What Really Counts :: essays research papers

most stories kick the bucket out slowly. Some start quickly. Some, unfortunately never start at all. It was the latter that was slowly becoming the bane or, as he saw it, the description -- of Morgan Dubois existence. Granted, his story was slow in forming not because of inadequacy of effort or desire on his own part, just fizzled clipping and time again due to an enormous lack of cooperation from the distant world. The outside world, of course, being girls. Standing a modest six feet, two inches in spinning top and tipping the scales at one hundred and eighty-five pounds, Morgan Debois wasnt that demanding of attention, and his chocolate-brown hair and hazel eyes maddeningly typical, in his eyes -- did nothing to mixture that, a impregnable deal to his chagrin. Though not unattractive, Morgan never fancied himself good-looking, and though he wasnt a heartthrob, girls never seemed to notice him, either. Unlike many other(a) teenage boys, though, he found little solace on the acrobatic fields or courts of the high school scene. He wasnt quick-witted in any real sense of the word, he conceit. Made and count on the basketball team but never started, and with a a few(prenominal) minor exceptions and headlines from a sectional championship relief pitching mathematical process his junior year, the same went for football and baseball. Even Morgan himself didnt take much from his athletic prowess, if one could call it that when youre a kid of above-average height in a school population numbering barely one hundred seventy if all the Jarrett kids were there, the running joke was you damn sure better play something, or youre a queer. You were weak. Though hed volitionally concede the fact that he was nondescript and perhaps all but invisible to the girls he fancied, Morgan Dubois was no queer. He wasnt weak. And though the thought never crossed his mind, for fear of the attention he sometimes so desperately craved, Morgan Dubois damn sure wouldnt t olerate you thinking he was. And that declaration, though unmade as of yet, is where Morgans story, and ours, truly begins.Ive got to ordinate you, I saw it coming.***Solly Jarrett, on the other hand, was. He was weak. And hed be the first one to admit it. The youngest by six transactions his twin sister Holly nearly edged him out for the honors of eight children, Solly was raised(a) in a household that had seen enough achievements, both scholastic and athletic, that he wasnt going to get much more than a good luck from Mom or Dad whenever he got dropped off at school or the baseball field.