A Lens That's Black and White - 1. Chapter 1 - Eli

Chapter 1 – Eli

“Elijah, would you please stop ogling yourself in the mirror? You're gonna be late which will make me late,” my annoying older sister, Tabby, called. I watched my reflection scowl. I hated when she called me by my full name, not that I really hated my name that much. I think it was just the way that she said it, like a mother reprimanding a child, and the fact that she refused to call me Eli, the name that I went by.

“I'm coming, would you stop yelling?” I called back. I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, looking over my wardrobe for the hundredth time that morning. I was wearing a green and gray striped American Eagle shirt and medium wash jeans, slightly hanging down on my hips. I was hoping it was a good enough look to start off my junior year. Casual, but stylish. I hoped. I feathered through my shaggy dirty blonde hair one last time and then finally headed downstairs with my backpack in hand.

“God, finally you're ready,” Tabby exclaimed, rolling her eyes at me. “Try not to grow up and be like him, Josh,” she said to our little brother. Today was going to be Josh's first day in high school and the first day of my junior year. Tabby, who's real name was Tabatha, was a freshman in college but was living at home and commuting to college everyday. I wish she'd chosen to live on campus. Then again, I'd probably end up stuck riding the bus with my little brother.

We all got into Tabby's roomy Range Rover that she'd gotten for her 17^th birthday. Funny how she'd gotten an expensive truck, and I'd be stuck with a hand-me-down old pickup when I turned seventeen. But then again, it'd be my Dad's old truck and I didn't mind having something of his.

I was sitting in the back seat, next to Josh and I noticed that he was shaking his leg at lightning speed, a nervous habit of his, and fidgeting around. “Nervous?” I whispered.

Josh stopped his leg shaking and said, “Yeah, how'd you guess?” He laughed a little shakily.

“Listen, man don't be nervous, it's not that bad. Just try not to be such a dork,” I joked, nudging him with my elbow. “But, really, people liked you in middle school, they'll probably still like you now. Just relax, these next years go by fast.”

“Nice speech. I bet that really helped,” Tabby said sarcastically, and then added, “Anyway, would you just make sure he finds his classes okay? And he doesn't get into trouble?”

I rolled my eyes. “When I was a freshman you helped me find the school building and said 'good luck'.”

“I want at least one brother to come out okay, and since that's obviously not you...” Tabby joked. She laughed her evil older sister laugh, the type that crinkled the corner of eyes and the bridge of her button nose.

“Go ahead, find entertainment at my expense. I see why Mom named you Tabatha, it's a name that a witch would have...or just a bitch,” I mumbled the last part under my breath, and Josh laughed, seeming to have lost some of his nervousness. “You're just lucky you didn't have to go to school with her for two years, little bro.”

We pulled up in front of the high school and Josh exhaled slowly. He spiked his already spiked hair, peaking in the rear view mirror to make sure it was perfect. He looked slightly like he belonged on the Jersey Shore with that hair but I didn't tell him. His style was his style. “Okay, you're hair looks amazing now, now get out before I'm late to my first class,” Tabby told Josh.

We both climbed out and walked across the school's lawn and through the glass doors leading into the school. “So, uh, everyday we have fifteen minutes before class actually starts, if we leave at the right time. I guess I'll help you find all your classes. There may be schedule changes so we all go to homeroom before first period and get new schedules. Only use the new one, the old one might not be right. The halls are numbered, so it's like 100 hall, 200 hall, 300 hall, and so on. The halls have big signs with their numbers so you should find them okay,” I said, in a rush. “After I show you around, I probably won't see you for the rest of the day so you're on your own, kiddo.”

I walked around with Josh for ten minutes, leaving myself five minutes to get to class, and showed him where his homeroom was, and the shortcuts and ways to maneuver the halls. “I have to go to class now, but, uh, good luck, kiddo. Don't get beat up,” I joked.

“Thanks, Eli,” Josh genuinely thanked me.

“No prob,” I smiled.

I made my way to homeroom, which went by quickly, and looked over my schedule. I had AP Geometry, AP English III, Honors U.S History, Advanced Chemistry, and a bunch of electives I'd picked. One was Creative Writing, a class I'd been wanting to take and finally got a chance to take. My English teachers had always taken a special liking to me and said I was a really good writer. I did love writing so, what the heck, why not take the class.

My first few classes went by quickly, being mostly intros to what we were going to be doing for the rest of the year. Nothing remotely interesting happened until Creative Writing class. A woman who looked about thirty, maybe thirty-one, walked in and introduced herself as Ms. Hartley. I recognized her name from the school newspaper and remembered that she ran the paper. She started talking about what the class would be about and what she expected from us and some other stuff but I wasn't really listening.

I was distracted by a feeling that I couldn't quite place. I scratched the back of my neck but the feeling continued. It felt like I was being watched. I glanced around as casually as I could and found myself making eye contact with someone I'd never seen before. He was a scrawny guy with dark brown hair that was died red at the tips and moss green eyes. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with a band name on it, dark jeans that were too big for him, and a black fingerless glove on his right hand. He held a pencil in that hand but it was just hovering over a blank sheet of notebook paper. And he was staring at me very intensely.

I was the first to look away, as I felt overwhelmed by something I couldn't identify but I definitely felt creeped out. I glanced back again and he was looking down intently at his paper and scrawling words down. With the way he'd gone back to what he was doing so quickly, I wondered if that whole thing had really just happened.

Next thing I knew it was lunch time and I walked to the cafeteria, after stopping at my locker and shoving my stuff in there. I got on the lunch line, grabbed some type of chicken meal and scanned the cafeteria for a face a knew. I scanned the room quickly, before I spotted a table overflowing with my hockey teammates, some football players, and an assortment of hot girls. “Hey, wassup?” I greeted them, and sat my tray down where there was an empty seat.

“Hey, Eli, how's it goin'?” One of my close friends, Mike, said.

My best friend friend, Jake Blanchard, seemed to come out of nowhere, sitting down next to me in a huff. “Hey, Jake. Haven't seen you all day. How're classes so far?” I asked him.

I had a lot of friends and buddies and close friends but Jake was my best friend, that was just the way it had worked out. He didn't play hockey or anything, he played lacrosse but we'd met back in fifth grade, back before popularity and peer pressure. He was the one person I could tell anything and the one person who understood.

I mean we were both popular now but we weren't like everyone else so we just kind of stuck together. We still hung in the popular crowd but sometimes we hung back, especially when it came to partying. Don't get me wrong, I went to parties once in a while and had fun, of course, but I wasn't into the party scene like most people were. I think it was mostly because of the wild parties where everyone's drinking, puking, having sex, and getting high. I didn't drink, smoke, or get high on anything. Sex, well, that's another story.

Some people thought I was a prude for not going to parties like that but I had my reasons, they just didn't know them. My dad died when I was nine, of liver failure. He'd been an alcoholic but he was just starting to get better when his liver shut down. I didn't want to end up like my dad, so I didn't drink. Alcoholism could be hereditary and I wasn't testing the theory. Every time I'd consider getting drunk, or even just drinking, I thought of my future kids. I'd never want to put them through the stress of having an alcoholic parent. Not to mention my wife, and myself. Don't get me wrong, my dad was a great father, when he could be. When he was sober, he was the best. When he was drunk, he wasn't really around. But I saw what alcohol could do to people after years of on and off excess drinking. And my dad's sister, my aunt, was a junkie, probably living in some crack or prostitution house in Manhattan. Drugs and alcohol had never really been an option for me.

I was snapped back to reality when Jake said, “Here, man,” And handed me his schedule. I took mine out and compared them and saw that we had two classes together, plus lunch. I groaned when I realized one was Foods, a.k.a Home Ec.

“Yeah they put us in Home Ec, there weren't many other classes to choose from anyway. Hopefully this'll be an easy A,” Jake said.

“Yeah I hope so,” I agreed. When lunch was over we all emptied our trays and went our separate ways.

My next two classes after lunch went by fast and as I was walking out of the Chemistry lab, I had a sudden feeling that someone was watching me and had the urge to itch the back of my head, where they're eyes were burning holes.

I turned around and across the hall and down some, stood the guy who'd been staring at me in Creative Writing class. His eyebrows were drawn together like I was a puzzle that he was trying to slowly figure out. When he saw that I saw him, he quickly looked away, and started taking books out of his locker and then rushed away, presumably to class.

Okay, that was extremely weird.

“What are you blushing about?” I heard a voice ask. I looked up from my locker to see Jake leaning against the locker next to mine and grinning.

“I'm not blushing,” I said but I knew my blush just got even more fierce. “What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to get to class?”

“We've got Foods next so I came to make sure you got to class on time. I have a feeling I'm gonna need you to get a decent grade in there,” He replied. I laughed, gathered up my things, and walked to class with Jake.

The teacher did in fact ask us to pick partners that we would be working with for at least the next two weeks so Jake and I picked each other and the rest of class was spent listening to the teacher tell us what this class was about, how it was going to work, and how we would have to learn the basics before getting to cook bigger and better meals and treats.

“This class sounds kinda fun, minus the basics,” Jake said as we exited the classroom. “Later, Eli.”

There was only one more period left in the day and I quickly rushed to class. There were two rows of tables that sat two people each, similar to the ones in science and cooking classrooms. I sat down at a table in the middle of the room, on the left side by the window. The teacher introduced himself as Mr. Graenley. “Welcome to Film Studies,” He sang out. I looked him over and decided I liked him. He was dressed casually but professionally in a white button down shirt with a silver vest over it and a black tie and he had on slacks. He wore hipster glasses that were more about fashion than being able to see and he had a modern day hair cut.

Mr. Graenley continued to explain that the class would be about studying styles of film, the process of film-making, film history, and basically all things film. “Now, to get into the gist of things, we'll start off with a small but fun project involving partners,” He announced. That got a few cheers until he said, “I will be choosing your partners. But, don't worry it'll still be fun. You're going to be making a five minute film that'll help us to get to know your partner a little better. This is sort of an ice-breaker. Each partner will make a film of the other partner, a kind of “A-Day-In-The-Life-Of...” film. Or you can set it up like a kind of interview that let's us find out things about this person. Don't forget to try and be creative and do your best. You'll have three and a half weeks to get these films done. One, regular video camera will be handed out for each group. You break it, you buy it.”

The project sounded interesting and fun but I was slightly scared of who my partner might be and if I could even pull off making a good project. Mr. Graenley started calling out pairs of names and my heart sped up a little when he called out my name. “Elijah Cole, you will be working with Jonah McCoy,” He told me, and I followed his hand as he pointed out my new partner. There he was again, the boy with the bloodred-dipped, brown-black hair and slight build.

I watched as he stood up, slowly, grabbing his things with slightly shaking hands and sat down next to me at our table, plopping down into the chair that was there. I looked over at him, feeling nervous for some reason. And I'd have to get to know this guy? Great. But it was for school and I'd have to talk to him, so might as well start now, right?

“Hey,” I said casually. He looked up, surprise showing on his face that I'd talked to him.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice kind of deep but soft at the same time. “I'm Viz.” He extended his hand for me to shake. I must've gotten a confused look on my face because he quickly added, “I was born Jonah, but, uh, I go by Viz.”

I accepted that and shook his hand, saying, “I'm Eli.” His hand lingered on mine for a few heartbeats longer than necessary and he realized that and pulled his hand back quickly, shoving in into the pocket of his hoodie. “So, um, sounds like a cool project, huh? Beats essays and paper mache,” I continued, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah,” he responded quietly. His foot started tapping and he shook his hair out of his face in that skater-boy/emo-boy way. I looked straight ahead, listening to what the teacher was saying, or pretending to listen, anyway. I kept seeing him glance over at me out of the corner of my eye and I started to squirm under his gaze.

I didn't know if I should look at him just so he'd look away or pretend that I didn't notice, so I just kinda sat there, watching him fidget out of the corner of my eye. I looked at his hands, which were laced together and placed delicately on the table that we shared. He had long, skinny fingers that I imagine could be graceful but all of his movements were slightly awkward, his limbs, well they...flitted around, swift and feather light. I wondered if I was the only person who noticed things like that.

Soon the last bell of the day was ringing and I stood up and grabbed my things to leave and headed for my locker. I thought maybe I should ask Viz about starting the project but I really didn't want to for some reason. I decided I'd ignore the stomach-dropping nervousness and go find him so I could get it over with.

I saw him walking a little bit ahead of my in the crowded hallway and called out, “Hey, Viz, wait up, man.” He jumped a little when I touched his shoulder and I quickly pulled my hand away and shoved it in my jeans pocket. “Um, when do you wanna, uh, start that project? We should probably brainstorm and stuff and then film and leave time for editing,” I spoke, my words coming out more nervous sounding than I wanted.

“Y-Yeah, my dad is having friends over my house today though, so we probably can't go there. Maybe, if you don't mind, we could go to your house and, uh, plan out what we're gonna do. B-but I ride the bus, so...” he stammered and I briefly wondered why he was so nervous. He flipped his hair again, revealing his moss green eyes but then the hair just fell back down and covered them again.

“Well, my sister's picking me and my little brother up, she could give you a ride to my house and I'll ask her if she could drive you home later,” I told him, cautiously. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, we still had plenty of time to start the project but it was too late now.

“Um, yeah, okay,” he agreed.

“I'll just go get some stuff out of my locker,” I said. “Meet me out front in like five minutes.” I quickly grabbed everything I'd need for the day, which wasn't much since it was the first day and I only had a small Geometry assignment for homework. When I walked out the front entrance of the school, I saw Viz leaning against the building, with a black backpack thrown over one shoulder.

“Come on, doofus!” I heard Tabby yell and I realized that she was sitting in her Range Rover in front of the school and Josh was in the passenger seat.

I opened the back door and climbed in and Viz got in after me. “This my Film Studies partner, Viz. He's coming over so we can work on a project,” I told Tabby and Josh. Then, to Viz, I said, “That's my sister, Tabby and my little brother, Josh.”

“Hey,” Viz greeted them, weakly. Josh turned around and gave him a slight head nod and giving him what he thought was a covert once-over. Viz saw this and turned to stare out the window.

We all sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence for about seven minutes before Tabby said, “So how was your first day, Josh?”

“It was pretty good. Some kids said I should tryout for football this year, and I think I will,” Josh answered. It was his first day of high school and I hadn't even asked how it went. I suddenly felt bad for not being a caring older brother like I should.

“Football?” Tabby questioned skeptically.

“Yeah, football. What am I too scrawny for football? I'm gonna balk up, I'm not that small,” He defended.

“No, you're not that small,” Tabby agreed, “It's just I can't imagine you playing football.” She laughed a little and poked him in the side with her free hand.

“Shut up,” He joked, and stuck his tongue out at her.

“Be prepared to play for a whopping ten people. Everyone comes to our hockey games, the football team sucks,” I bragged, only half joking.

“They may come, but not to see you,” Josh teased. I knew I wasn't the best player on the hockey team but I was one of the top five. I loved the ice and the feeling of kicking the other team's ass. I'd played hockey since eighth grade and I still loved it to this day.

I noticed that Viz was just sitting there, watching our interactions with eyes that sparkled with interest. We weren't really an interesting bunch and I eyed him quizzically. What could he find so fascinating? He felt my eyes on him and met my gaze but I quickly looked away, watching trees and houses and cars as they passed by. We slowed and Tabby pulled into the driveway of our semi-small house. It was a homey, all-American house with dark green shutters and egg-shell white paint. It was old but kempt. And it was all we could afford since my father had died.

Viz stayed quiet as we trudged up the driveway and into the house. He quietly and politely removed his shoes and placed them on the wood floor in the foyer. I started up the stairs with my shoes still on—even though my mother wouldn't have approved—and Viz followed closely behind, quiet as a mouse.

“This is my room,” I announced as I opened the door and let him look around while I plopped down on my bed. I felt stupid saying it, because obviously this was my room. I watched Viz spin in a slow circle, looking at each wall, checking out my movie posters of my favorite movies and prints of some of my favorite poems. Then he pulled out my desk chair and sat down, looking over at me with the same unusual expression, like he couldn't quite figure me out but was trying to. I cleared my throat and his gaze softened, the intensity of it turned down a couple of notches. “So, um, do you know what exactly we need in each film?” I asked.

He pulled out a piece of paper in place of an answer and handed it to me. It was a project rubric, stating what we needed in it and how many points in was worth. I remembered that he'd given everyone a sheet during the time that I was pretending to pay attention in class and felt like an idiot for asking Viz. I handed the paper back to him silently and watched as he put it away then slouched in my desk chair, his loose jeans hanging low on his hips and revealing his boxers clinging to his bony hip bone under his t-shirt.

My mind started cranking out thoughts against my will like what it would be like to hold those bony hips of his and how soft his skin looked. I blushed and looked down. I didn't want to think things like that. It was stupid, I wasn't gay, I definitely wasn't gay. I wasn't a fag. I'd had plenty of girlfriends and I'd lost my virginity to my girlfriend sophomore year. I loved girls. I couldn't even be bi, I was just straight. I'm straight, I told myself, over and over.

“Do you wanna grab a snack before we start? I'm hungry,” I said suddenly, needing to distract myself from the thoughts bubbling up in my mind.

“Yeah, okay,” He agreed and stood up. He followed me downstairs, through the hallway that was adjacent to the living room and into the kitchen. He sat down at the dining room table which was next to the kitchen. The two rooms were divided by the stretch of wood flooring that was our hallway. I fixed us both a turkey sandwich and handed him one.

“I-I'm a vegetarian,” He stated quietly.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I should've asked first,” I quickly apologized. I put the plate with his sandwich in the fridge, deciding I'd eat it later. “What do you want to eat? We've got a bunch of chips and some other stuff. You're free to whatever you want.”

“I'll just have some chips,” he replied. I sat a bag of Lays potato chips and cool ranch Doritos in the middle of the dining room table and sat down across from him. He took a dainty bite out of a potato chip and then asked me, as if he wasn't sure how I would react to him starting a conversation, “So, you liked the Dark Knight?”

“Yeah, man, that's one of my all-time favorite movies,” I answered, smiling.

“Mine too,” he said, which surprised me. He usually didn't say something unless it was a question or in reply to a question. “So, you're into writing, too, huh?”

“Yeah, it's kind of like a hidden talent,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich. He looked up at me through his eyelashes, his eyes bashful, and shook his hair out of his face. I noticed that he had flecks of brown extending from his pupils, penetrating the forest green color of his irises. He really had beautiful eyes.

“Your eyes are so blue,” he whispered, and then seemed to realize that he'd said it out loud and blushed deep red, looking down and shoving chips into his mouth. I felt my cheeks get hot and knew I was blushing too. It wasn't like he'd said anything weird like he liked my eyes, he'd just stated a fact, that my eyes were really blue. So why was I freaking out inside?

“Hey, are you guys done with the Doritos?” Josh said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing next to the dining room table and looking around, probably trying to figure out why Viz and I were both just sitting there, looking anywhere but at each other.

I shoved the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and said, “Yeah, you can have 'em,” around a mouthful of food.

“Dude, you could've said that before shoving that sandwich in your mouth. But thanks for showing me your chewed up food,” Josh joked, grabbing the bag of Doritos off the table and going up to his room. I felt my face flush again as Viz looked up at me and smiled.

“So, um, how do you think you wanna have my film set up?” I asked Viz.

“I was thinking of doing an interview of sorts. And then maybe have some cuts of you going about your daily life inserted between the interview questions. And we could put up captions so the audience knows the questions that are asked, instead of hearing me ask them. Or it could just be clips of you doing things that you usually do. You know, the “A Day In The Life Of..” thing Mr. Graenley talked about,” he replied and I was surprised because it sounded like he had really thought through what he wanted to do with it.

“That sounds good. We should probably start right when he gives us the camcorders so we don't wait until the last minute,” I said.

“We could use my camera, instead. It's probably better than the one that they'll give us. Maybe I could come over tomorrow and we could start filming some stuff,” he suggested and I nodded. “Well, I should probably call my mom to come pick me up now,” he continued.

“Tabby could drive you home, I'm sure she's not busy—” I started.

“No, no, it's fine,” he quickly assured me, flipping his hair out of his face and averting his gaze. He stood up and walked into the living room to call his mom. Ten minutes later, a car honked its horn and he said, “That's my mom. See you tomorrow, Eli.”

As he walked down the hall and out the front door, I wondered if he didn't want to be a burden or if he was purposely avoiding any of us seeing his house.