BRENDAN
I was pissed no doubt about it.
"I still don't know why I have to waste a perfectly good Friday night helping at a soup kitchen" I bragged.
"You know I hate it as much as you do." ensured my dad.
I sighed annoyingly at my dad, of course he would say that, mom has him by the gonads.
I began to feel self-conscious right when my dad drove his new Mustang to the Henry Davis Community Center parking lot. Gulp!
Maybe it wasn't good idea for me to wear my new Adidas and expensive yellow Hollister shirt to this place. In definition, most of the people going to soup kitchen were poor.
My dad was right though, the soup kitchen was a great pla place for the suckers at Brown or Princeton to see that I help out the less fortunate.
Still, I felt so out of place going here. Also, I would be caught dead if my elite group of friends found out I was here. NO! It will certainly be a cold day in hell if they did.
I guess I should introduce myself; my name is Brendan, Brendan Houghton. I guess if you want to become a movie director like me, you do have to go to a prestigious place like Brown. Plus, I think my resume that includes captain of the rugby and lacrosse team would be good too. Oh, don't forget class president.
I was what you can call the golden boy in the small town of Weston just north of Grand Rapids. You had to be somebody just to hang out with me, no fucking doubt. I guess this place wouldn't be too happy if they found out that I was stinking rich as well. I was loved by my wealth, academic achievements, and of course striking good looks.
My dad is the owner of two prestigious hotels in Grand Rapids and my mother is the number one child psychologist in the city as well.
I could've been out having a swell time with my buddies at one of our notorious parties. But no, I am stuck at some gritty shit.
I got out of the car and looked at my dad who was disgusted at the gritty looking place, don't worry dad, you're not the only one. "Call me twenty minutes in advance so I can come and pick you up."
"Sure, bye." I said while gritting my teeth. With that, my father quickly drove out of the community center in the Grand Rapids parking lot to his big palace of a mansion in Weston.
I sighed deeply and looked at the small place; the place could use a god paint job that's for sure.
LOGAN
I never like coming to the soup kitchens. Coming to soup kitchens are always a burden to me because then it pressures me work more to help out my mother.
This was the fifth time this year we go to a soup kitchen ever since my mom lost her job when the company she worked moved to India last year.
My mom applied for Food Stamps, but only gets about five hundred a month for me and my little brother. During those food stamps, we were fortunate to even have our gas on during the winters, granted that meant losing the electricity for about two weeks.
I always tell my mom to let me drop out of school so I can work full time at the Chinese restaurant I work at.
She says no son of her will drop out or they'll be sleeping in the streets. She says her sacrificing will not go to vain.
Plus, she always adds. I entering Weston High in top honors in my classes can ensure me I get scholarships and grants.
"We are here," she said in her tired voice. I sigh deeply and wake up my thirteen year old brother in the back seat. The good thing is that no one from my school can see me here. It's not that I am ashamed or anything, I just can't risk people giving me a pity well.
I'm not much of a talker at school and tend to keep to myself. Most of the people there are stinking rich, so I would feel like a fish out of water... or money for lack of better term.
I didn't want to eat at first, but my stomach and headache started to get on my last nerves so eating here was the only option.
I grabbed a tray from the start of the line and waited for the line to start moving. The smell of factory made lasagna waived around the large center.
Great lasagna! I thought to myself sarcastically.
Just when my stomach couldn't drop anymore, it hit the floor. I saw none other than Brendan Houghton giving out the refreshments to the people in trays. I wasn't hungry anymore.
Instead of hunger in my stomach, butterflies filled up my belly. It always seemed to fill me up whenever I saw the man of my dreams.
Even with a red leather apron and a plastic bag in his hair along with an impatient face he's still the most beautiful person I've ever seen.
I couldn't stop staring at him, even when my face turned red when he locked eyes with me.
BRENDAN
This dude from class kept on looking at me.
What the hell is his problem?!?
Still, I couldn't believe someone from my class come to this shithole. I mean, couldn't he get I dunno get food stamps or something like that.
The food here looked distasteful, food I wouldn't even give my Golden Retriever. My disapproving face started to fall to pity. He was probably looking at me because he thought I would rat him out.
He looks like the kids my friend Steven and the gang would prank on and stuff in school. My friends always had an elitist type of mindset. I admit that I have that mindset when I am with them as well. I am different when I am in school and after school. Right now, I was feeling a little self-conscious and kinda sorry.
A mature, tired with golden blonde hair just like him who I assumed was his mother asked for a Faygo Lime soda. A little boy who looked to be about eleven or twelve in my opinion was next and he asked for a Coke.
Last but not least...
"Um...c..can I have a lemon-lime soda," he asked a little timid and nervous. His golden green eyes were trying to look away from me while his milky pale skin had a tinge of blush and sweat rolling from his forehead.
His clothing was kind of deplorable, his arm length blue shirt was moth eaten and needed a good wash. He was tall though, about 6 feet but very skinny. His green eyes looked tired and his eyelids were baggy. His lips were pink though looked dry and chapped. I gave him his drink.
"Here you go...um...," great! I felt like a total dick, I didn't even know the guy's name.
"Logan, Logan Hoekstra," he gave me a handshake. He was so cordial and such a gentleman. Something I'm not used to seeing with my friends. "Thanks Brendan," he said with a mellow and warm voice, he knew my name...of course he knew me name I thought immensely.
I saw him walk back to the table his mother and brother. Logan. Somehow, I didn't know why but I wanted to know more about Logan. I didn't even notice my hand was in midair until an irate elder man asked for some pop.
I wasn't paying attention to the customers; all I kept on looking was at Logan.
LOGAN