Pelting rain fell in the tumultuous downpour. “Damn rain,” Darion muttered, wiping the raindrops off his pizza delivery uniform. This was not an ideal night for the job that awaited. Frustrated, he kicked an abandoned frisbee out of his way in the puddle-ridden restaurant parking lot.
Tonight, would be the defining moment of his high school career! Tonight, he got the call to deliver pizza to Stephanie O’Donnell’s house. The most beautiful, captivating, dream-like, popular girl in school. He had to take this chance, and the damn rain was ruining everything!
An hour earlier, Tony, the manager of The Moz, an up and coming pizza restaurant in Gresham, OR, instructed Darion to start his shift with a delivery. A late night of video games had left Darion fading fast. This is going to be a long night, he thought, as a huge yawn escaped his lips. Embarrassed, he grabbed the delivery slip out of Tony’s large, sweaty hand and crumpled it into his fist as he walked into the restroom to rearrange his hat and uniform. Looking in the cracked mirror, he tucked in his oversized shirt. The dark and dingy restroom made it difficult to make out his features but what did it matter? He never saw anyone while on shift.
Then he remembered his first duty of the night. Delivery. He smoothed open the slip in his hand and gasped. As the paper fell to the floor, Darion frantically wetted his dark curls, splashing water on his face. His average appearance stared back at him. The boys at school were big. Active. Coordinated. Athletic. Darion, on the other hand, was tall and gangly, with tanned skin. He liked to spend his days rock climbing, horseback riding, and hiking. He had strong, lean limbs from years of adventuring the Oregon forests, amplified by his baggy pizza uniform. He had lost his other shirt, leaving him no other option but to borrow Tony’s extra-large one. His green eyes were his only remarkable feature, at least in his mind. Shaking his head at his image, he took a deep breath.
What the hell. I’m going for it.
Darion had never met Stephanie—officially, that is. The girl of his dreams, yes, but as his friends put it, he didn’t have the guts. He had tried though. Once, he admonished to himself. Last year in a Sophomore P.E. class, he’d almost had his chance. They had been playing dodgeball when she’d tripped on her shoelace. Just a few feet from her, he could make out every feature on her beautiful face. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rosy pink lips, and one adorable freckle just below her right eye. Her tight fitted tank top allowed her admirers a clear image of her perfect breasts, and small waist. Her tanned, long legs visible beneath her immodest neon gym shorts. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion and the embarrassment of falling in front of her classmates. Darion had dreamed of her in a similar position many nights, though to find her hurt tamed his lust. He was there, extending a hopeful yet trepid hand, as their eyes met. And that’s when everything went black. Joey Durange had just become Darion’s greatest enemy.
“Darion. You’re out, man,” Joey laughed, after throwing a dodgeball directly at Darion’s face, knocking him out momentarily and breaking his nose.
Bastard.
Unbeknownst to him, Joey had helped Stephanie up and they sauntered off laughing about the geeky pizza boy who got in the way of the ball, while the school nurse was called in to escort Darion out. That had been a low point. His nose was now slightly crooked, thanks to that jerk.
With the rush of memories, Darion propelled himself into action. He had to erase the memories of failure.
Yes, that day sucked, but tonight… tonight is going to be a good night. Tonight is “the” night, where everything changes for this pizza delivery boy.
Darion ran out of the bathroom, yelling. “Tony, Tony, where is the O’Donnell’s order? Come on! What are you guys doin’ back here?” He glared accusingly at the other two kitchen staff as he slammed his fists on the counter. Joel and Andrew were fun and jovial, but at this moment, they were achingly slow.
“Hurry up you guys! I have to get this order out!”
The two men stared open-mouthed at the kid. This was the guy who never talked to anyone at work, always keeping a low profile.
“Sorry, man, we’re workin’ on it,” Andrew muttered as he shook his head at Joel, wiping his greasy hands down the front of his apron. A few moments passed by as they pulled the pizza from the oven and packed it in a travel bag ready for delivery.
“Here ya go, kid,” Joel called from the kitchen. Darion sprang out of the booth he had seated himself at and tore the travel bag out of the fat, sloth-like man’s hands.
“Thanks a lot,” he said, with more than a hint of sarcasm, and ran out to face the night.
***
“2457, 2458, 2459… Come on, where is 2460?” Worried he was on the wrong street, he finally saw it. 2460 Fir Dr. He had found Stephanie’s house.
He pulled into the driveway and saw “O’Donnell” inscribed on the mailbox. Darion gawked at the large, well-lit house surrounded by a white picket fence. It was much nicer than his home he realized, though he expected nothing less from his crush.
All right, this is it, he thought, gingerly lifting the steaming pizza bag off his passenger seat. You can do this. Just be cool.
He opened his truck door and slid out. He marched himself to the white door and knocked. Three times. No answer. He paused, deciding to try the doorbell. Still no answer. The combination of bone-chilling drizzle and lusty teenage anticipation made him impatient. Hurry up, he thought, growing cold and aggravated from the unrelenting rain.
Tony was strict on certain things, like attire and presentation. Imagining Tony’s commanding voice: If it is not the dead of winter, I do not want you covering up that uniform. I promise you will not die from a little rain. Though he wished now, that he would have broken the rules just this once and worn his black rain jacket.
Knocking again, three more times… No answer. “Where is she?” he said aloud, his temper rising. Rain dripped off his hat. He knew he must look a wreck. His hair clung to his neck as rain trickled down the back of his shirt. This was a bad idea. Tony should’ve delivered it himself.
“Damnit.” This can’t be happening. He saw a large portrait window a few feet away. Stepping off the porch, he walked toward the window. This ended up being the worst thing he could have done because just at the instant he moved off the porch, he stepped on a pile of mud. Losing his footing, he skidded on the slimy material and wet grass, heaving the pizza box as he fell backwards. The front door swung open in that instant, and to Darion’s horror, Joey Durange and Stephanie O’Donnell walked out to greet him. Joey roared with laughter at the sight of Darion, as Stephanie jumped off her porch to offer her hand. However, as she was inches away from his hand she stopped.
“Ewww, what’s that smell?” the girl cried. “It smells like sewer!” She drew back and quickly returned to the safety of fresh air and Joey’s large arms on the porch. Darion scrambled up, grabbing the pizza box. The two teens looked down on him with such disdain that he panicked. His mind went blank. He chucked the pizza onto the second stair of the porch and fled. He heard Stephanie screaming, “We don’t want this nasty pizza now!” Jumping into the driver seat of his white ’98 Dodge truck he sped out of the drive swerving, narrowly avoiding the O’Donnell’s mailbox.
He had stepped on dog shit, fell, and fled the delivery scene like a total loser. That didn’t happen. But judging by the smell of the truck cab, it totally had.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Darion yelled as he banged his fists against his steering wheel. Only a few blocks from 2460, the tears overtook him.
By the time he got back to The Moz, the O’Donnells had already called in to report the incident. Darion caught the sympathetic look his boss gave him. “Take the rest of the night off, kid. It is not that busy anyways, and you know just as well as I do that Andrew and Joel are useless. Maybe I will make them run a delivery for a change,” he said, as he winked at the dejected teenager, slapping him on the back.
“Thanks, Tony. I think I could use it,” he said, sniffling as he walked over to hang up his hat. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, but he was appreciative of his long-time friend and boss.
***
Tony, well-aware of Darion’s longtime infatuation with the girl, knew he didn’t capture her heart this evening. His heart ached as he watched the downtrodden boy’s expression. He felt genuine, filial affection for the dear boy. Darion was an orphan, or so the story went. He had been adopted by the Smiths, an older couple who could not have children naturally. According to them, they had fallen in love with him the moment they saw him, though none knew exactly where they had found him. They had raised him since infancy and adopted him, making him fortunate. Many children are forced to bounce between foster families, and Tony was glad that Darion had not shared their fate.
Though his origins were still unknown, like all things do, the years passed by and the mysterious child’s abandonment became a thing of the past. The only thing that still raised uncertainty was the inexplicable, foreign marking on the ring finger of Darion’s right hand.
As a child, it appeared as nothing more than a birthmark, but as each year passed, the markings and dots became more definite. More legible. A phrase or symbol perhaps. It was the butt of jokes at school, causing Darion to find a large, black band that he wore at all times. His adoptive parents seemed unashamed of his birthmark. If anything, they didn’t understand why he felt the need to hide it. They were a bit country, living on the outskirts of town, but they cared deeply for the boy, and that was all that mattered. Tony had known them for years and would vouch for them any day. They provided well for the boy, and Tony offered him a job as soon as he got his driver’s license. He was well looked after, yet some injuries are unavoidable, such as tonight’s events.
“High school’s a bitch… do not let it get ya down.” Tony waved comfortingly at the boy as he walked out the front door. “Trust me, things will work out, Darion.”
“Thanks, Tony. Have a good night,” Darion said, subdued. His bright green eyes were a bit dimmer than usual, bloodshot and glassy. He shrugged out of the door with an audible exhale.
***
Darion couldn’t sleep. He kept picturing Joey’s round, pimpled face laughing and pointing at him. He envisioned Stephanie reeling back in horror from his tainted self, covered in dog excrement. He stared at the ceiling for a time, trying to take comfort in his scenic, nature posters which plastered every square inch of his room.
That’s it. Darion got up and walked across his tiny attic bedroom to his desk. He took out his notepad and pencils, flicking on his lamp. He spent a lot of nights awake. He had never been a sound sleeper. He cleared his mind through drawing. He had never shown any of his sketches to anyone. They were his and his alone. He was not sure what they meant but he knew they were not typical teenage drawings. They usually had strange markings, similar to the “birthmark” on his hand. He never willed these images; it was just what his hands and head seemed to conjure up, subconsciously. Strange creatures. Horses with horns, burly men with horse bodies, large bird like beasts, and other dark, mythical things. He didn’t know why but his sketches were soothing. It was as if they were a part of him. As he filled in some shading on one of the beast’s hooves, he began to think of his upbringing. Setting his pencil down, Darion slid off his black ring.
Dark lettering and symbols covered much of his first knuckle on his ring finger. What does it mean? There had to be a reason for it, but everyone seemed to think it was just an odd mix up in pigment. A birthmark. How could anyone look at this and think it’s normal? Something didn’t add up. More than anything he wished he knew his birth parents. Why did they desert me?
Like a scrap of refuse or garbage, he was left with nothing but his diaper, blanket, and strange birthmark. Maybe they took one look at me and knew they could never love me? On occasion, these bleak thoughts overtook his mind, but they were fleeting. Somehow, Darion knew that wasn’t the case. If they hadn’t wanted him, why would they have gone to the trouble to see him safely left on the Smiths’ doorstep, as they told it. Maybe his birth parents were trying to protect him. Something must have happened forcing them to abandon him, and that is the one thing that kept the boy going. That, and the dream that he would one day get to be with Stephanie O’Donnell, which clearly would not come to pass after tonight’s unfortunate occurrence. The image of her loose top revealing the pink lace of her bra, holding within it, her tantalizing breasts, as she had almost knelt to help him caused his pants to tighten. Feeling more frustrated than ever, he snapped his pencil in two, wishing for a different outlet for his emotions.
Sighing, he gave up drawing and climbed back into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before Monday’s arrival.