Read Online Unknown by Christopher Smith - Free Book Online Page A

it.  
    I went to my computer and brought up the website for Abercrombie & Fitch.   There, I knew I’d find somebody I’d like to resemble.   I clicked through the links and found a guy who was tall like me, had the same angular face as me, but who was built a hell of a lot better than me.   He probably lived his life at the gym, working out for hours each day to get a build I’d never be able to achieve without a little help.
    I looked at him and wondered if he was Jennifer’s type.   Looking at the guy, I had to face it—he was pretty flawless.   Strong chest, toned arms, an eight-pack.   I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t be her type.   He was paid to be perfect.   And guess what?   He had achieved something close to it.
    I stood in front of the mirror and thought hard of what I wanted.   When I could picture it in my head and in my heart, I went to work.
     
     
    *    *    *
     
     
    Next morning, I did something I’d never done.   I pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.   No hoodie.   No clothes that would conceal my body.
    Now, there was no need to.
    I showered and looked at my face in the bathroom mirror.   It still was something of a shock.   I had no acne and no scars—they were gone.  
    I ran the palm of my hand over my face and was surprised by how sharp my jaw line was in the absence of the boulders that once consumed my skin.   And my complexion was different—my face didn’t look raw.   It was no longer red but instead reminded me of my father’s olive complexion.  
    When I shaved, I did something different and left a line of stubble from my lower lip to my chin.   I stared at it for a moment and decided to make it a bit fuller, like one of the guys did on the Abercrombie site I saw.   It worked.   It gave me an edge.
    I shook my wet hair and watched it fall naturally into place.   I dried it with a towel and ran my fingers through it.
    When I was finished, I dressed and stood in front of the mirror again.   I looked the same but not the same, if that makes sense.   The change was just enough.   I filled out my clothes but not ridiculously so.   I hadn’t gone too far.   People would notice and they might mention it, but I had a plan for that, and over the next several weeks the changes would continue to be subtle.
    I left my bedroom and was met by my father in the kitchen.   He was brewing a cup of coffee.   His lower back was pressed against the countertop and his eyes were bloodshot.   One look at me and they widened.   “What the hell happened to you?”
    I wasn’t staying long.   I grabbed my backpack and swung it over my shoulder.   “What do you mean?”
    “You working out or something?”
    “Trying to.”
    “Huh.”
    No criticism?   No caustic judgment?   That was new.   I wonder if he knew it was my eighteenth birthday today.   I doubted it.   “See you tonight,” I said.
    “I’ll probably be out.”
    Of course, you’ll be out.   You’ll be at Judy’s drinking it up with creepy Jim.
    “Time to find work.”
    And that stopped me.
    “What kind of work?”
    “Doesn’t matter.   Just time to find work.”
    “That’s great, Dad.”
    “Nobody’s going to want a washed-up drunk, kid.   Don’t fool yourself.   But I’ll give it a shot.   I have to.   They’re cutting off our disability.”
    “I can get a job.”
    “You might have to.”
    “I can flip burgers or something.”
    “What you need to do is do better in school so you won’t have to when you’re my age.”
    I walked outside, surprised by what had just taken place and glad that it was another sunny day.   I started walking up the incline that led to the street, where a group of other students were waiting for the bus to arrive.   I hoped he could find a job.   I hoped they could turn their lives around.   I felt that if they could get back into their routine, the drinking would stop and it would be better at home.
    As usual, I hung back from the other