What Was Left At Camp

Chapter 9. Who is William Mencini?

I couldn't breathe. I was literally gasping for air with my hands held tightly to the sides of the small desk I sat in front of. I was fighting to maintain consciousness as I began to see spots and my chest tightened. In vain, I tried to compose myself as I attempted to take in more of Williams' features.

His hair was the same raven black but styled differently - a low buzzed fade on the side with long neatly messy locks on the top that hung to one side of his forehead. As he walked it would fall over his left eye that he would so casually brush aside. His face had matured as I thought it would have leaving behind chiseled defined features. When he smiled with his perfectly straight bleach white teeth, which he was currently doing, two deep dimples made an appearance, adding to his charm. He resembles exactly what I pictured Billy would look like at this age.

The only differences were his height as he was now the same height as me if not taller. He was also just as muscular as I was and I would bet millions that behind the clothes he wore, he was shredded. There's a difference between being muscular and being muscular and ripped. Most athletes have muscles but if you wanted definition, you couldn't rely on just playing sports. You'd have to eat right and workout, outside of your athletic training. Like I did!

His style of dress also differed dramatically from Billy. Billy was casual and since we spent our summer in camp, outside of our uniforms, we wore basketball shorts and plain t-shirts. This William character looked like he stepped out of an Armani catalog. He was wearing black fitted slacks, a fitted light grey button down shirt left untucked and a pair of white sperry boat shoes.

"Ah, William, yes?" Our teacher Mr. Jones greeted William. "I was just mentioning to the class that we were expecting a new student. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?"

Still smiling, William confidently stood in front of the classroom. "Hey guys" he paused "and girls" he gave a wink (gag). "My name is William... William Mencini. I just transferred here from a boarding school in the city." As he spoke his eyes traveled around the classroom. The moment his eyes met mine, I was done.

While he continued speaking I had officially lost my breath and was noticeably gasping for air. FINALLY someone noticed.

Drowning out Williams' voice, my best friend Mike, who sat to my left, began to ask me if I was ok.

"Christian, Bro? What's wrong? '' Mike's voice was low as he leaned close to me from his seat.

Mike, Michael Graham, to be exact. We have been friends since elementary school but it wasn't until the end of middle school when we became close. Mike was your typical Jock type - good looking and muscular. He was Seventeen, five foot eleven, had short brown hair and hazel eyes with a tan complexion. He was mixed raced, his father caucasian and his mother black. And don't for one second refer to his mother as African American, she'll give you a stern lecture on why she's just an American and it's a racist assumption that her ancestors are of African descent. I loved his Mom. She was a force to be reckoned with.

Mike can often be absent minded and a bit self absorbed but he's also one of the kindest people I have ever met. He has a heart of gold and when I came out in eighth grade, his response was "and sometimes I like to sit down when I pee. Like me any less for it?" and we went on as normal. Only growing closer.

"Mr. Price?" I could hear our Homeroom teacher call to me.

"I-is he ok?" I think that was William. At least my breathing and heart did.

"What the hell is wrong, Mike?" Another voice from the front of the classroom. I knew that voice. It was my other best friend, Maria Ford.

"Christian?!" Mike was no longer speaking low and called out to me after witnessing the gravity between my face and my desk giving way. My last memory of Homeroom that morning was of Williams eyes on mine carrying a look of horror.