Joy Through Diversity by Agent Midnight
Standard disclaimers apply
Duo POV
My name is, and always has been Duo L. Maxwell. Born in raised in
the outskirts of a small town in America, my family doesn't have much.
I'm fifteen, as of right now, and will be sixteen in about four months
and twenty-two days. Not that anyone's counting. My house isn't something
you would go around bragging about, definitely. It's not big, fancy,
and it doesn't have much value to it, but it has been my home since
the day I was brought into the world, and it'll be my home until I
can find a better place for myself.
My father, or Mr. Maxwell to you, is 100% American, like my mother,
so they produced an 100% American boy... me. Anyway, my dad has never
really had a good break in his life. He's worked at many jobs, has
managed to keep his family alive and reasonably healthy, has put food
on our table every damn night of our lives even if it is just Mac-and-Cheese,
and managed to keep his relationship bright and strong with my mother.
Through all the hardships of their life together, all they can do
is try their best to shrug it off and comfort each other until the
really bad times fade into a dull nothing.
Sometimes I find my mother crying in her bedroom when she doesn't
think anyone is home. She cries for me because she feels like she
can't give me everything a growing teenager needs to have. What she
doesn't realize is that her and my dad have given me love and friendship
all my life and I wouldn't dare exchange that for a big house or expensive
electronics. Sure, we have our problems like every other family, but
we can never stay mad at each other for very long. With my grandparents
on both sides gone and the rest of the relatives not wanting anything
to do with the lower-class Maxwells, we're all that's left of our
family. Us and our dog make up the Maxwell ties and the Davis ties,
Davis being my mom.
My mom and dad both have to work to send me through school, and even
now, I go to a rather sketchy High School where it seems like any
moment I might get shot or stabbed. It doesn't bother me, though,
because my best friend isn't as fortunate as some of my other friends
and he actually requested that his parents send him to the school
I'm at so we can keep each other company. He lives next door to me,
but I'll get back to him.
I don't have many friends right now, but the ones I do have mean
the world to me. We're all so very different that it's so strange
we like each other as much as we do now. We all don't live in the
same area, so it was by some odd grace of god that we accidentally
met each other. It was all through simple things, too. Whether it
was from crashing into each other at the supermarket, or crashing
into each other while rollerblading, or crashing into each other while
turning corners, we just all managed to meet up through a series of
accidents and connections. Then, we got to know each other and slowly
became friends.
After we had been friends, we all learned the truth behind all of
our pasts and presents. Where we all lived, what we all did, which
schools we go to. Interests and the likes. The dirty secrets were
eventually revealed out in the open, but no matter how many bad traits
we all have, together we have this strong bind of friendship that
probably won't ever be broken.
I don't know if I could live without them all in my life.
Trowa Barton is a teenage jokebox, going to the nicest private school
in the area. That instantly sets him apart from myself, because I
have to suffer through the torturous wonder of public High School
with nothing but my best friend to keep me sane and in one piece.
Whenever we gather for our let's-do-our-separate-homework-from-separate-schools-together
meetings, he's always done in a flash while the rest of us are dawdling
around, myself specifically trying to work through Algebra. Never
was my top subject. Eventually, the boy comes over and helps me with
my homework, and I swear to god he will one day be a teacher from
the way he helps me out. He'd make one damn fine teacher, too. Algebra
crap never really made much sense to me until Trowa took the time
to patiently explain it to me, even going so far as to admit he hadn't
liked going through Algebra, either.
His parents had been divorced for about three years when his father
got in a terrible car accident while trying to drive to his new home
while intoxicated. The impact didn't kill him, but he did pass on
the ambulance ride to the hospital; if they were five minutes closer
to the emergency room, he may have had a chance, but they weren't.
And that's the way life goes, so says Trowa.
Mrs. Barton had been mortified, and had basically locked herself
up in the house for about a month and a half before Trowa had to force
her to go outside and get to the doctor for a check up. His half-sister
Cathy had cried, but not very long since Mr. Barton had just been
her step-father, and not her actual father. Cathy's father had ditched
her and her mother about seventeen years ago, when Cathy had just
been born. A couple of years later, Mrs. Barton had sought comfort
in Mr. Barton and they spawned Trowa.
Calm, quiet, hilarious Trowa.
Somewhere through his years of shyness, he opened up to his friends
and we got to see what a really fun guy he actually is, but as soon
as we encounter a stranger, he's quiet with his shoulders slumped,
walking behind us until the crowd of people leaves us alone again.
If not facing strangers, he's bouncing around and joining me as we
sing oldies-but-goodies at the top of our lungs. If I had met him
as a child, and he didn't already hold the title of best friend to
Wufei, then I think there would have been a very good chance that
we would have hit it off and become instant best friends. But, the
best friend titles are already taken for both of us, and we're not
at the top of the other's list.
Trowa's the most ambitious of our group, actually putting voice to
the dreams he has for himself. Granted, and sad to say, they are a
lot better than mine. He wants to be a doctor and help all the sick
people, maybe even find a cure for something and become famous; I
want to get out of the dump that is my home and move my family to
someplace nice. I've never been able to think about what I want when
all my hopes and dreams are in the same shape as my dumpy house.
Trowa Barton wants to be something, and he's going to be something,
dammit. Whether it's a doctor or a gas station clerk, he's going to
be the best at whatever he does in the future, and he knows this.
It's his dream; he has to know it. He wants to go to college and get
married, maybe have a kid once everything is perfect for him. He's
going to make his dreams a reality, no matter how the obstacles ahead
may try and stop him.
He's motivation for the rest of us to try and be something, too.
Chang Wufei lives exactly three houses down and across the street
from Trowa, making those two the border-line middle-classies of our
small group. His house is decently sized, and he's got excellent stuff
in that place. You could fit both mine and Heero's houses somewhere
in the structure of that boy's home, and have room to spare to build
a damn indoor swimming pool. Now, I don't know if this means his house
is extremely large for his location, or if Heero and I really both
live in houses the size of trailers, but I would kill my grandmother--if
I still had one, of course--to live in that place with my family,
if only for a few hours to call it our own.
Wu's dad is an ex-Marine who is the funniest bastard I would have
ever imagined meeting. He's a sarcastic, witty, all-around male and
he truly enjoys his son's friends when they come over to visit. My
parents don't even like to hear me ramble on as much as Mr. Chang
does; he lets me go off on theories and beliefs, and then follows
mine with his own. That man is such a great guy to argue with, too.
What I don't get, though, is that he absolutely adores chess, and
yet my dog could whoop his ass up and down their even sidewalks at
it.
Mrs. Chang-- the most polite, sophisticated woman you will ever lay
your eyes on. She's beautiful, kind, feminine, and stunning, but she
knows how to kick her shoes off and drink beer with the rest of them.
I remember one day I rode my bike over there to give Wu his Biology
book back, and she was sprawled out on the couch with a Bud Lite as
she watched ice hockey on ESPN. Whenever one of the players on the
team she was rooting for got hurt, the beer would slam on the coffee
table and she would curse softly to herself until the player got up.
If a player on the opposing team got injured, however, she would leap
to her feet and she'd be storming around the house, barefoot, yelling
with glee.
Wufei's spunky girlfriend, Meilan, lives at the Chang house. It happened
one day when Meilan ran away from home after her father had come home
drunk and started to take it out on the women of the family. Meilan's
mother told her to run to safety and call the police before her father
did something too drastic. And the first place she could think of
that was remotely safe, where she wouldn't dare worry about being
in danger, was at Wufei's.
They had taken her in with open arms, and somewhere along the lines,
she had started staying there, her fear at returning home so strong,
Mrs. Chang had a long talk with her mother and they settled things
out. Meilan was welcome at the Chang's until her father either got
help, or left the house. They wouldn't send the poor girl back to
a house of abuse, and Meilan's mother was completely for it.
It's a good thing they allowed her to stay there, anyway, because
Wu's and Meilan's relationship had been in a very fragile stage for
quite some time. Ever since Meilan's been there, though, that loose
string has been pulled so tight, I think one day they may want to
marry each other. When they're old enough, and ready for the future,
those two may very well show how much they love each other through
vows.
They're perfect for each other, but of course we all tease Wu for
being so lovey-dovey with the girl.
Quatre Raberba Winner is the uppie of the group. While Wu and Tro
live in middle-class suburbia and Heero and I live in lower-class
parktown, Quat is a definite upper-class citizen, if only for the
sheer amount of money his family has in their pale palms. His dining
room can fit my whole neighborhood in it with plenty of room to spare.
He's got everything one could ever dream of owning; the boy's fifteen
like the rest of us, and already has three cars with his name on their
titles. I don't even think he's gone out and gotten his permit, yet,
which means those cars aren't going to be much use to him if he can't
drive until his later years.
His father is in charge of a multi-billion coorperation, a real handsome
businessman who knows exactly what he wants, when he wants it, and
how he's going to get it. I can say one thing, though, if he ever
ran for president of the U.S. of A., I'd vote for him in a flash,
and then go back in disguise and try to vote for him again. Mr. Winner
knows how to get on everyone's good side, and if need arises, people's
bad side. I've never seen him do anything remotely selfish when it
comes to business; he always lets all his workers have a say in what
may be good for the company. If one of his employees has a grand idea,
he'll use it and give all the credit to that worker, no matter what
their rank; they can be the janitor and have a good idea, and suddenly
they lose their janitorial status and move up to join the ranks of
the millionaires. Anything but greedy, my friends, anything but greedy.
Que's mom is a traditional housewife if I ever did see one. She's
tall and blonde, a trait that is well-suited in the Winner family
genes, but highly intelligent. In my opinion, she's a freakin' genius
when it comes to educational stuff. I think Quatre said she had been
a Chemist for about twelve long years of her life before she started
popping children out like a Pez dispenser. Still healthy as a button,
though, through the birthing of seven siblings and the blonde wonder
himself. Quatre is the third oldest in the family, having an older
brother and an older sister at the age of seventeen and nineteen.
Below his age rank, is a fourteen year old, a twelve year old, two
nine year olds, and an adorable four year old.
Cute as puppies, the Winner family.
My friend is the mastermind rebel, though. He's as polite as a politician
when he's around his family and his family's friends, but when he's
alone with the five of us, he's one of the nastiest people you will
ever meet. He's very fond of rude riddles, and knows every single
one of the dead baby jokes, even having made up a couple himself.
The boy smokes about a pack a day, laughing at us and saying that
his lungs could be better even though he is so young, but he's addicted.
He always leaves his house wearing nice khakis and button-up shirts,
but then he meets up with us and ducks around a car, changing into
the spare clothing he had in his always-present backpack. Then, out
emerges this black-clad hoodie with a cigarette hanging along the
shell of his ear, one perched in his lips, smoke billowing up towards
the sky. Torn jeans that show just slight glimpses of his legs as
he moves with long strides to keep up with us. Even though he is the
shortest, sometimes we have to jog to catch up with him.
His girlfriend is two years older than him; a real gem. She's a blonde
bombshell who lives down the street from him in another huge-ass mansion
where she used to stay with her recently-divorced parents. Her father
took the house while her mother left, and she chose to stay with her
dad because of the housing issue and the fact that she couldn't leave
Quatre behind. They don't say much, but we all know those two aren't
virgins anymore. They radiate light whenever they're together, and
Que always seems to be watching her ass sway, never letting her walk
behind him.
Oh, if only his parents could see him with us.
Moving along to my best friend.
Heero "Skylar" Yuy is my next door neighbor, and I've known
the bastard since we were both wee babes at the age of five. They
moved in four weeks after our old neighbors moved out to bigger and
better things, and we hit it off instantly. Well, okay, that's not
true. Our personalities didn't blend together quickly to where we
both liked each other, but their was a swing set close to where we
lived that no kid really ever used except for myself, and we both
liked to swing. We would race each other to the swingset, our intent
was violence if we didn't get their first, but we always ended up
pushing the winner. The secret behind those small acts of kindness
was to see if the other would fall off and break something so the
loser could have the swing all to themselves as the winner cried in
pain.
Morbid little things, weren't we?
Eventually, that swing jealously turned into friendship, and we shared.
Heero's house is a skimpy little thing like mine, with two bedrooms
the size of closets, about four closets the size of a door, one small
bathroom, a kitchen only one person can move around in, and a sitting
room that has a 19-inch television being one of the few expensive
things belonging to the Yuy's. For his fourteenth birthday, Heero
got a black laptop that he has never once bashed because of its semi-slow
connection speed. His father had worked hard to get him that, and
Heero cherished it for that fact alone. Of all the other things they
could have used, his dad wanted him to have something that he really
wanted and may someday really need.
Mr. Yuy tries his damndest to make the best of the low-class situation,
taking all his money and saving it, promising his son and wife that
one day, they'll get to have a house closer to Heero's friends. One
day, his father promised, we will be a happy middle-class family,
where we won't have to worry about losing the little things we do
have now. One day, we won't have to work so hard for food and electricity.
One day, we'll get to live life.
Mrs. Yuy is a doll of a woman with the most infectious laugh I've
ever heard from anyone. She a gorgeous brunette from the likes of
Japan, having moved to America after she had met the All-American
Mr. Yuy and fell in love with his rowdy antics and roughened demeanor.
When they met by accident along the streets of Tokyo, him on vacation,
her going to her small job, she knew she could leave behind her old
life in an instant to be with her love. She's the kind who knows everything
to say to make people cheer up and join her in her never-changing
good mood. With dreams of having a daughter, she had nicknamed Heero
"Skylar", because that's the name she would have wanted
for her daughter if she had been given one. Instead, she had been
given Heero, and lost her only chance for a little girl to put bows
and ribbons in her hair. Lost her only chance to go dress shopping
for her daughter's prom. Lost her only chance for the one thing she
wanted most.
Of course, she loves Heero greatly, and she has offered the guys
and I reasonable fuel to keep calling him a woman, but sometimes he
tells me he wish he had made his mother happy. Sometimes he's so upset
with himself that all he can do is pray he had never been born and
his mother had had a daughter, instead.
When they fight on those rare occasions, he brings that up and his
mother cries, screaming at him that she loves him and would never
wish such a thing. Their screams would filter through my open bedroom
window as I would wait for Heero to join me at his own. Our rooms
are across from each other, so we can talk most nights.
His mother is perfectly capable of having more children, and so is
his dad, but they just don't want another kid. Mr. Yuy's morals are
too strong, and he constantly feels that it would be wrong to bring
another child into that broken down house with barely enough room
to hold the three of them. His mother wouldn't want to wish that upon
anyone else, either.
One day, I was going out to check the mail and Mrs. Yuy was sitting
on their porch, rocking in a porchswing and tearing small pieces off
one of the dandelions that adorn the front yards. She had called me
over and had me sit with her, offering me half of the orange that
was going unnoticed, which I declined.
You boys are going to get out of here, she promised. You'll have
great lives...
I can still feel her tears against my shoulder as she pulled me into
her comforting embrace and held me, her soft sobs wracking her small
body with gentle trembles.
If anything else, I'll make sure of it... she whispered. I'll get
you both out of here.
And I cried with her until Heero and Mr. Yuy got back from the long
walk to the store, the grocery bags in their arms dropping to the
grass as they ran foward to check and see if anyone was hurt.
The Yuy and Maxwell family suffered through the shock of a lifetime
when Heero announced just this year that we were dating, but never
once have they turned away from me or Heero. The shock settled off
about two months after we had announced it, and then everything was
back to normal; Mrs. Yuy continued giving me these small grins whenever
she would catch us kissing, which mortified us both, but she made
it even worse with her commentary.
Love birds, love birds, you must eat something... unless, of course...
That woman knows exactly how to make me blush.
Our friends were shocked at first, too, Wufei continually stating
that he thought I was the master of female-ism, his words... not mine.
Heero had the decency to tell him that that was still true, but that
I had also gotten a degree in the functional parts of the male anatomy.
Quatre and his girlfriend had laughed at that, Trowa had simply rolled
his eyes, and Wufei had walked off down the street before anyone could
tell him to stop.
Congrats, you both. Never thought I'd see this day... Quatre's always
a sweetie with words. Not... But I don't want to see you two tonguing
anymore than I want to see Mei and her bitch do it, so please don't.
After that calm statement, Quatre had slapped Heero's ass and snaked
his arm out to pinch one of my nipples.
Rich-boys Gone Wild-- coming to a video store near you. Rated R for
sexuality and bad jokes.
Everything fell back into place like it had always been between us.
There was no tension and they didn't find it uncomfortable to be around
us, so life was back to normal without Heero and I losing our great
friends.
I guess that's what being a friend is, right? Accepting everything
of them, no matter how shocking.
Our lives may be completely different, but we're all one in the same.
There's no dancing around the fact that you can have friends in high
or low places. It doesn't matter what anyone says, because in some
way, we all love each other. Some more than others, wink wink.
I wouldn't trade them for all the money in the world, you know?
It's hard to find to great friends, and much harder to find great
friends from diverse environments. If I had to choose over living
in a place like Que's and having to give up my friends, or living
in my current house and keeping all these great people in my life,
I would stay where I am because I'm at a point in my life where I'm
happy and content with the way things are going.
Do I want bigger and better things to happen? Of course.
But not if my friends won't remain my friends. I'd rather go nowhere
and love this small group forever if that's what it takes.
I've found love, and strong friendship... I won't hesitate to admit
that in my life, at this time, I'm genuinely happy.
*******
The End
*******
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