Chris Reposy

"Hey, out of the way." Some big guys pushed past the smaller and quieter Chris. Seeing that he was still standing and holding all of his books, one of the guys returned to knock the books out of his hands and trip him. Chris lay in the mud, staring up at evening sky, and wished he'd accepted Sammy's offer of a ride home. Why do they bug me? Chris asked himself, although he already knew the answer. Psychology was a hobby of his and the reasons for bullying were many and easily found. I'm smaller than them. I'm smarter than them. I'm quiet. He sighed as he gathered his books, knowing well the number one reason. "I don't fight back…" He remembered many a pep talk given to him by his friends about just decking them once and they'd never bother him again. He knew it was probably true…but he couldn't possibly win a fight against them. The fact that Candy had been the first one to offer to deck them for him, was slightly embarrassing. He may be a quiet genius, but he still didn't want a girl fighting his fights. He phrased it slightly more gently than that when he'd tried to explain it to Candy, but she'd still ended up punching him in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise. There is a difference between sexism and masculinity, he'd commented. Candy had winked and replied, you mean there is a difference between sexism and stupidity. Everyone had laughed, and Chris had gotten knocked down after school again.

He finally decided to stand up and head for his house. He lived with his parents and a newt. He grinned. Chris always introduced his family that way, the newt being the only animal he'd ever been allowed to bring into the small apartment he called home. It's name was Fred and, surprisingly, it was going on 12 years…almost 10 years longer than your average newt life. Chris figured it was because Fred never did anything…only sat on his rock. He pushed open the door to the apartment building and stepped into the elevator…preparing himself for a long ride. At this time of night the lift would have to stop on every floor from here to thirteen. He lived in the same building as Candy, but she wouldn't be home yet…she had detention.

Chris sat down in the dining room, a big open room with an oak table in the middle of it and window's all along one side. It was easily his favourite room in the apartment, even though it wasn't his. His mother's china cabinet leaned against the one wall, filling the room with little rainbows from the mainly crystal collection if the sun hit it just right. Chris grinned. The sun hit it just right for about 15 minutes everyday at 5 o'clock. It was his rainbow room. He smiled as the first flashes of colour began to flare across the room. And it looks even better by candlelight… He watched the little rainbows for a second before grabbing his sketchbook and began drawing. The beauty of his rainbow room always inspired him.

"That's beautiful Chris." His mother turned on the dining room light as she entered it. The sun had gone down many hours ago, but Chris hadn't noticed. When he was drawing, nothing else mattered. "You might want to remember to turn on the light though, you'll lose your eyesight. Then what sort of artist would you be?"

Chris quickly snapped the art book shut. "I'm not an artist mom. I just sketch."

His mother sighed, knowing she would never get a good look at any of his pictures. Chris was an artist, but he was the only one who knew that, he never let anyone else see his art…not even his best friends. "Dinner will be ready in a bit. " She left for the kitchen.

"Okay." Chris stared out the big picture windows and the night sky for a few more moments before grabbing his book and heading to his room.

He knew his mother didn't understand his need to keep this art to himself. He knew she thought he was just too scared to share it with his friends. She didn't understand that the drawings were a part of him…as much as his arm was. They were his personal thoughts, feelings, emotions….he couldn't just share them with anybody…even if they were his best friends. He stared at his picture again, a rainbow hued dragon flying over the city buildings. He smirked. An unlikely event…but fun to sketch anyways. He flipped through the other pictures and a theme became rather obvious. Dragons, gryphons, faeries, unicorns, all sorts of mythical creatures, all in his city. He smiled as he tucked the art book under his mattress and back into it's hiding place. I can dream, can't I?

After many hours of trying to think of a costume, Chris found himself back where he always ended up searching for inspiration: His rainbow room. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of as he glanced an the crystal figurines, was his rainbow dragon. She isn't really rainbow. Chris decided, finally giving up on this costume thing. She's white opal and in the light her scales shine with all the colours of the rainbow. He continued daydreaming until his mother entered again, touching his shoulder to draw him back into reality.

"Chris?" She was worried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He muttered. "Just trying to think of a Halloween costume." He knew that he'd have to find someway to stop daydreaming all the time. It was truly a miracle that he got any work done what-so-ever.

"You're not going out trick-or-treating?" His mother never knew what to expect with her only son…only son she had now anyways.

"No. I want to go to a Halloween party…down at the river." Chris expected his mother's argument and had already planned for it.

"I don't want you going down there. It's dangerous."

"It's no more dangerous for me than school is. I'll be with the guys, " He smirked. "…and Candy. We'll all stick together mom. We'll be fine."

"I don't want you going down there. It's dangerous." His mother was not going to be moved on this one…or so she thought.

"Mom. I'm seventeen. I'm old enough to go to a party with my friends."

"Not at the river. A girl died there last year."

"Then everybody will be doubly careful this year." Chris hated begging. "Please mom?"

Finally the woman gave in, mainly because she knew his friends were going and she didn't want her already….different…son ostracized even from them. "Ask your father when he gets home."

Chris smiled, knowing how uncaring his father was towards anything at all. It was practically a yes. "Okay mom." She left and Chris returned to his daydreams. His father hadn't always been uncaring…but something had happened.

Ten years ago…

"Deven?" A seven year old Chris asked his older brother. "Can we go play in the park?"

Deven, a fifteen year-old role-model to his younger brother grinned. "Corse we can bro. You grab the football and I'll tell mom and dad."

Chris happily ran off to the closet and heard his father's voice talking to both Deven and him. "You boys be careful. The street's kind of busy right now."

"We will." Deven promised, putting his arm around his younger brother. "See ya Fred." He winked to his younger brother.

Chris smiled happily and tapped on the newt's tank as he passed. "Bye Fred. We'll be back later. Maybe I'll bring you some bugs!"

"Fred doesn't eat bugs." The all-knowing Deven corrected. "He eats little tiny fishies and stuff in the water."

"Oh." Chris said, taking his brother's word on it. To him, Deven knew everything.

Deven could take Chris down the elevator by himself and even out into the park. Chris sometimes wished he was the older brother, so he could show Deven everything, but he was always glad that of all the big brothers in the world, he'd gotten Deven.

"You go long, and I'll toss it to you, okay?" Deven held his younger sibling's hand as they crossed the busy street.

"Ok Deven." As soon as his feet touched the grass, the seven year-old was off like a flash. He stopped about forty feet away from his brother and turned to accept the pass. Deven knew how to throw a football just right, so it always landed practically in Chris' hands. The ball would hit one of his fingers and bounce off, forcing Chris to chase after it. That never discouraged him though, he knew he was getting better. He could almost throw the ball all the way past Chris. He picked the ball up and held it the way Deven had shown him. He took a few steps and threw a pass that any older brother could be proud of. Deven actually had to back up to catch it…right onto the road.

No one blamed the truck driver, there was no way he could have stopped in time. No one blamed his parents, they had let the children play in that park so many times before without so much as a scrapped knee. No one blamed anyone…aside from two people.

Chris, obviously, blamed himself and had many years of therapy to tell him otherwise. He couldn't have known that the ball would go that far. He was only seven. Deven should have been paying attention to what he was doing. Deven was older and responsible. He should have moved farther away from the road before beginning the game. These reasons all made sense when Chris sat with the psychiatrist. He understood how it wasn't his fault, wasn't anybody's fault. It was just an accident. He felt better, until he got home and saw his father, the second person who found someone to blame.

His father was supposed to love both his sons equally, to cherish his children. When Deven died, Mr. Reposy blamed Chris. No one ever thought of giving him counselling on 'how to not blame your other son'. He got all the 'dealing with loss' and 'moving on' lectures from the psychiatrist, but he still blamed Chris. It had almost destroyed his parents marriage, but they'd eventually worked it out.

His father still blamed him, but that was okay because Chris still blamed himself.

As he put the finishing touches on his costume, Chris couldn't help thinking how little his friend's knew about him. They didn't know about Deven or his art or his Rainbows. They didn't know any of the important things about him. Chris smiled and looked in the mirror. He saw Robin Hood smiling back at him. He opened his front door and left, tapping the glass of Fred's tank in good-bye, like he always did. He heard Sammy honking and pushed the elevator button a few more times, trying to speed it up. He heard the horn the whole way down, and couldn't help thinking. My friends don't know any of the important things about me, but they still love me. That's friendship.

Off to the party...

Background from
Pictures from Maranda's Dolls and The Woman Says.