My Blue Eyes

My Blue Eyes

By

Maxim Daniels

Copyright 2015 by Author

All Rights Reserved

Book Cover by

Alora Kate Design & Dollar Photo Club

This book is dedicated to my mother and father. Although fictional, without their love and support, none of the inspiration for this story would be possible.

Thanks Mom & Dad!

Preface
     Her name was Mary Wizcowski.  I had known her since the eighth grade when we were both in Ms. Luego's science class.  That was the hardest class I have ever had in my life.  Tell me, what eighth grade boy wants to learn about neutrons and protons and exons or whatever “ons” there were?  Puberty was well upon me, and the only thing besides baseball and music that occupied my time were girls.  I had no time for science.
     Mary was not one of those girls who occupied my thoughts.  She wore thick pink framed glasses that only highlighted her nappy thick curly hair.  Her clothes were always three sizes too big and looked as though they were straight from the Salvation Army.  She had a pale complexion that made you wonder if her skin ever tasted the fresh kiss of the summer sun.  Even on the hottest days, Mary wore jeans that were tight rolled resting on top of her dirty LA Gears.  Mary was weird, very weird.  Not the goofy kind of weird that makes everyone laugh, but the kind of weird that made you think one day you would come into class and see her hanging from the ceiling.  She never smiled, never made eye contact and when Ms. Luego would call on her, she would put her head down and remain silent.  She reminded me of a box turtle.  Whenever you would try to make any kind of contact with her, she would quickly retreat back into her shell only to reappear when the coast was clear.
     I, on the other hand, was one of a kind.  I was a star baseball player and aspiring musician with a couple of buddies from the baseball team.  I could have had any girl I wanted, but there was just one problem.  While girls occupied most of my thoughts, they still scared me to death.  I had never kissed a girl, let alone touch one.  I was all talk.  Man, did I ever talk a big game.  According the stories I had told my friends, I had three girlfriends who all lived in Florida, and I made out with every one of them.  Truth be told, I had never been to Florida.
     I came from a working class family, and my father was employed at the only factory our small river town in Illinois had.  He made a good living and easily provided for our family.  I had five brothers and one sister, so my mom was forced to stay home with us.  I felt sorry for her most of the time.  I knew she expected more out of her life, but she got pregnant right out of high school, and she and my dad married a short time later.  I was the youngest of my parent's kids, so I was technically her baby.  My siblings teased me about this all the time, but it had its benefits.  I got away with so much crap, you could fill a twenty-by-twenty storage shed with it.  My older brothers hated me for it.

     I was also a mistake.  My dad apparently had a vasectomy after my sister was born, and ten years later, one of his swimmers wiggled through and got her egg.  My dad always joked he had Olympic Swimmers in him, and I would be the most successful of his kids for that reason.  It was not until later on did I realize what he actually meant about the Olympic Swimmers.  My original thought was I was destined to be a swimmer.  I was such an idiot.  My brothers, on the other hand, always joked around saying I was a retard because mom had me when she was in her forties.  I had no idea what this meant at the time either.
     Another benefit of being the baby, was I was the only one still living at home.  Sure, my sister and brothers would briefly move back in for a little while.  They would save up enough money living at home until they could move out again, and then three or four months later, they would move back in.  This happened all the time, and I always wondered why my parents never said no.  My mom would always say to me, "You know Darrel, you never stop raising your kids."  Eventually, they all married and were raising kids of their own.  By the time I reached high school, I was the only one at home.  But I'm still talking about the eighth grade, so let me get back to Mary.
     I had the unfortunate prize of always being paired with Mary when we had to do a science project in class.  Ms. Luego had assigned seats, and since my last name was Watson, we were always seated next to each other.  It pissed me off because she never added anything to the project.  I would always end up doing it myself, and she would sit quietly writing in her notebook.  I guess this was her journal or something like that, but it wasn't fair.  The joke was on her though.  Since I sucked at science and barely passed, Mary would always just barely pass too.  I wondered if she could even talk.  Every time I asked her a question, I would get a shoulder shrug.  I even complained to Ms. Luego once after class.  She basically told me to just deal with it.  
     During the middle of our eighth grade year, we had another project to do together.  Once again, Mary didn't participate, and I was left with all the work.  I would show her this time though.  I didn't do a damn thing with this project, and the day it was due, I couldn't wait to come into class and tell Ms. Luego we decided not to do it.  Maybe this time I would get a reaction from Mary.  Much to my surprise, when I arrived for class, there was no Mary.  I was so excited to shove this in her face, but the joke was on me.  So yes, I failed another freaking project.  Ms. Luego said Mary had moved from the area and would likely not be joining us the rest of the school year.  No one really cared, I guessed.  I was actually quite disappointed. 
Chapter 1

     It was August 22, 1992, and I was getting ready for my senior year in high school.  I just finished having one hell of an epic summer and was all fired up for the first day of school!  I had finally engaged the human female species and was no longer green, if you know what I mean.  The summer baseball season was over, and I was riding an all-time high after receiving full ride scholarships from the University of Alabama, Mississippi State, Florida State and the University of Texas.  I didn't know which one I would choose, but I could do no wrong in which ever one I picked.  
     I was a single man with a plan, and her name was Lisa Yates.  I had been chasing Lisa all summer long and had come up flat on several occasions.  She was absolutely, without a doubt, the hottest girl my school had to offer.  She stood at a very slender five-foot seven with long blonde hair and skin so perfectly tanned, you would think God made her just to tease teenage boys.  She had the best ass I've ever seen, and a nice perky C cup to go with it.  I did my damnedest to land her that summer, but failed time after time.  Lisa always pretended I didn't exist, no matter how obvious my advancements were.  We were both single, so there was no reason we shouldn't have been together.  I had a plan though.  
     Every senior class is responsible for a senior project, and you are paired with one person for a specific class.  For example, it could be your history class, math class, science class or any class of that nature.  You just didn't know what class it would be announced in.  It could be announced at the start of my history class I had first hour or P.E., which I had fourth hour.  Ten people could be chosen out of a class of thirty, you just didn't know.  Every teacher used assigned seats and most of them did it by alphabetical order of your last name.  This was usually the formula they used to pick the pairings, but how they did it with so many students in so many different classes remains a mystery.  They were very methodical in how they did it, and you were expected to take it serious.  So serious, that if you didn't pass the project, you did not graduate.  It was quite the big deal at our school.  My friends and I always joked about the principal being some kind of mad scientist, and we were his science experiment. This is where my plan would hopefully take effect.
     I knew Lisa and I were going to share seventh hour science class due to one of my obvious advancements towards her over the summer.  Hopefully, neither of us would be chosen by seventh hour, and then we would be paired due to us sitting next to each other in our assigned seats.  With my last name being Watson and hers Yates, there was a good chance we would be at the same table.  I expected Lisa and I would get very close because the project generally lasted all year, and one can only hold off my sweet charm for so long.  Or so I thought.
     First hour History came and went without my name being called.  One bullet dodged.  Second hour Health came and still no mention of my name.  Two bullets dodged.  Third hour English, fourth hour P.E., fifth hour math, and I still was not paired.  There was one more bullet in the chamber before the gun would be empty and my destiny with Lisa would get started.
     Before sixth hour accounting, my best friend Matt came up to me and told me he asked Lisa after their fifth hour class if she had been paired, and she said no.  Matt was awesome.  He's been my best friend since Kindergarten, and we've been playing side by side on the baseball field since then as well.  I was a shortstop, and he was a second baseman. It was obvious we were the best double play combination to ever exist.  The Wizard and Tommy Herr did not have anything on us.  We were faster than a fat kid eating at a buffet table! 
     One more class to go.  Mr. O'Dell was my accounting teacher, and he decided to wait until the end of the class to announce the pairings.  He was such an ass.  Ninety-nine percent of the teachers would announce it at the beginning of class, and then excuse those chosen to go out in the hall or Library to discuss what their project was going to be.  Not Mr. O'Dell.  Did I mention he was an ass? Five minutes before class was over, he read the names of those being paired.  It's like he knew I was waiting for seventh hour, because when he read the final name, he extended the first few syllables, "D-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-en".  I did it! I dodged the last bullet in the gun, and as long as Lisa did too, we were destined to be paired.
     Matt came up to me again after sixth hour and said Lisa was still not paired.  Matt was a lucky son of a bitch.  It seemed like he had every single class with Lisa.  Did I mention Lisa was hott!  Yes, she was that hot, she deserved two t's.  
     It was time, and I was finally going to get my chance to woo Lisa all year long working on this project.  In my mind, I already had the perfect project for us to do.  It would require us to spend countless hours off in a secluded romantic location I had found a few years ago.
     This spot was outstanding.  Only a few of my closest friends had the opportunity to witness this location.  Any time I took them, I made them wear a blind fold while riding in the car to the location.  This location was the very place I became a man.  I loved this place, and hopefully Lisa would come to love it too.
     My spot was a creek bed that was just off the bottom of an S-shaped curve, and it was fantastic!  The place was hidden by a large canopy of Red Oak, and the only inhabitants you would find were a squirrel and a few curious deer.  Getting here was not for the faint of heart, and only a skilled outdoors man, like myself, could navigate their way through the thick brush. 

     A long time ago, the Indians from the Illiniwek tribe supposedly named the creek The Colapi Creek.  Apparently, this means friends.  Later on in life, I looked up the word and it was actually a Lakota word for friends, so it was obvious it was just given a Native American name to pacify somebody.
     This was my place though.  Many times I came here to just lie on the creek bed and take in the hot summer sun or the crisp air of an October fall.  It was beautiful, or it used to be beautiful.  Earlier in the summer of my senior year, a hog farm was erected about a mile upstream, and I knew they were polluting the creek.  I wanted to notify the authorities, but knew I wouldn't have any proof, and my secret place not known to any man would be discovered.  
     This is what I had planned to do my senior project on, how the pig farm was polluting the water and ruining the wildlife in the area, and Lisa was going to be a part of it.  That was until I walked into seventh hour Science class.  There, sitting at the two person table with my name placard on it, was the girl I hadn't seen since the eighth grade, Mary Wizcowski.
Chapter 2

     In case anyone is keeping track, Wizcowski comes before Yates.  I took the empty seat next to Mary, even though I desired to be sitting in the seat taken by Zach Young.  Oh how I wished I was Zach.  That lucky ass had the fortunate luck of having a last name alphabetically close to Lisa.  Why couldn't my mom have married a Young?  Damn you Mom.
     As I pulled out my seat and plopped my sorry butt down, I said with a sigh, "Hi Mary."
     She quickly glanced at me before retreating back into her turtle shell.  

     Did she honestly think I wouldn't remember who she was?  There were only a few minor changes to Mary's appearance that were noticeable.  She still wore the same big ass glasses, but this time they were black instead of pink.  Her hair still had the dark, thick and nappy appearance, but only this time it wasn't curly.  The bangs were still there, except now they literally covered both her eyes like an Old English Sheepdog.  Her shirt was still three sizes too big and my only thought was it must have been her nightgown, and she was too lazy to get dressed in the morning.  Mary also traded in her dirty LA Gears for a scuffed up pair of Mary Janes.  To answer your question, yes, I paid too much attention to what Mary was wearing.
     I quietly asked Mary if she had been paired up yet, and she shook her head no.  I could have sworn it was snowing in August as the flakes slowly fell to the table.  The one thing she had going for her was that she didn't stink.  She kind of smelled good.  I could be wrong, but I think it was Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth perfume.  I thought that had gone out of style in the 80's, but man I always loved that smell.
     My Science teacher was Mrs. Bradley, and I loved her dearly.  She was the wife of our high school baseball coach and she attended every game, whether it was home or away.  Maybe I could find a way out of being paired with Mary since I was the coach's prized player. 
     Mrs. Bradley made the announcement of the pairings at the beginning of class and was giving us the remainder of the hour to talk with our partner in the library so we could pick a topic.  I swear, I could hear Zach chuckling as Mrs. Bradley read the names, "Darrel Watson and Mary Wizcowski."  I looked back at him, and he had the cheesiest shit ass grin on his face when she said Lisa and his name together.  At that moment, I think I hated Zach with every being of my body.
     Mary and I exited the classroom and walked distantly away from each other as we made our way to the Library.  While on my death row march, I debated whether or not I wanted to do the same topic as I had wanted to do with Lisa.  It had its benefits to keeping it at my spot.  No one would see us together, and I wouldn't risk getting teased about Mary and me being a couple.  Maybe Mary had an idea, which caused me to laugh out loud.
     When we arrived at the library, we took a seat far away from everyone else that was paired together.  
     I asked Mary, "So, is there any topic you want to cover?"  
     Mary conveniently shook her head no.
     I then proceeded to ask, "Are there any topics that interest you?"  
     This time she just shrugged her shoulders.
     "What do you like Mary?"  I asked.  
     Her reply was to scrunch her nose and shake her head while shrugging her shoulders.
     At this point, I figured I would just sit there and wait for her to strike up a conversation about our topic.  Ten minutes passed, nothing.  Twenty minutes, nothing.  Time was getting short and we needed to have a topic picked out.  I could feel my blood beginning to boil.  It was kind of like when you're making Mac N Cheese and you sit there waiting for the water to boil so you can dump the dry noodles in.  You start to see a bubble, you almost think it's time, and you are standing there with the box over the water. Still, the bubbles come up sporadically.  You want to drop the noodles in, but you know if you do it before the water is just right, your Mac N Cheese will come out too soggy.  The bubbles then retreat and you're left waiting again until more appear.
     "For the love of God Mary, you have got to talk to me," I said louder than expected.  
     I swore the whole library turned and looked at us and I got a very long "Shhhhh" from Ms. Opel the librarian.  
     "Seriously Mary, we have got to pick a topic and you need to provide some input," I stated with much frustration. "Look, I have this spot on Colapi Creek that I love, and I think it's intentionally being polluted by a hog farm.  I would like to be able to prove this is happening and show the drastic loss of vegetation and animal life in and outside of the water."
     
Did those words actually just come out of my mouth
?  
Wow
, I thought. 
 I sound a lot smarter than my 2.20 GPA
.
     Mary must have thought I sounded smart as she perked up a bit and nodded her head yes in agreement.  I asked Mary if she would please give me a verbal answer so I knew she was definitely on board.  Then I recalled that I have never heard Mary say one word when we were in eighth grade together.  I wondered if she could even talk.  Maybe she was missing a part of her tongue, or maybe she had such a bad speech impediment she was afraid to talk.  Now I started feeling awful for trying to force this girl to talk and perhaps she was too ashamed.  I could only imagine what it would be like to be terrified to talk for the fear of sounding stupid or not being able to get the right words out.  
     Then she spoke in a soft soothing tone, "Yes, that sounds like a wonderful topic for our senior project."  
     I must have looked like a deer in headlights because Mary followed up with a more forcibly but yet sarcastic reply, "Is there a problem?"
     "I'm sorry Mary, I've never heard you speak before," I said with shock.
     We filled out our topic paper and turned it in to Mrs. Bradley as the final bell of the day rang.  Mrs. Bradley glanced at the topic and gave me an approving nod of the head.  I smiled and was heading out the door when I heard Mrs. Bradley call my name.
     "Darrel," she said.
     "Yes Mrs. Bradley," I replied.
     "I know you wanted to be paired with Lisa," Mrs. Bradley stated before I cut her off.
     "No I didn't.  Why would you say that?"
     "Darrel, coach tells me everything, and all summer long you would talk to your teammates about wanting to be paired with Lisa so you would have all school year to woo her.  Come on Darrel!  You’re a good kid and coach loves you like his own son.  He talks about how patient you are with your teammates, even though they are nowhere close to being at the same level you are.  I want you to show that same patience with Mary that you do with your teammates. I know it's going to be frustrating working with Mary, but just be patient and give her a chance.  Remember, you don't always know what someone has been through or the obstacles and challenges they've faced.  Promise me you will be kind, Darrel, and know that a cocoon someone's been living in might just turn out to be a beautiful butterfly."
     "I promise Mrs. Bradley," I replied hesitantly and walked out the door. I wondered why she was getting so deep with me.
Chapter 3