BALCOMBE, neil

[neil balcombe]

neil simeon balcombe

name: katja
age: nearly nineteen
gender: female
writing experience: writing: fourteen years, roleplaying: about nine years
how’d you find us?: fate
a favorite book: The Tenth Circle by Jodi Picoult


name: Neil Simeon Balcombe
age: nineteen
upper or lower schooling?: upper
previous residence: Cheney, WA, USA; Paris, France
eye color: green
hair color: light brown
height: 6’2
distinguishing features: a birthmark just behind his left earlobe, a small, raised scar on his left knee, and a burn mark about one inch long on the outside of his right forearm

four good personality traits

four bad personality traits

three quirks

important people

history

”My first memory is when I was four years old. I was at the park with my parents, and my mother was sitting under a tree, watching as my father and I kicked a soccer ball back and forth. Well, to be honest, I’d kick the ball in the wrong direction and it would go about two feet then roll to a stop, and he’d have to chase after it. We had fun, though. It’s the only time I remember my parents smiling at each other. Actually, to be honest, it’s the only time I remember them together at all before he turned his back and walked away from us.

Growing up, I asked him every time I saw him—which wasn’t very often—when he was coming home. Now that I think of it, he never actually gave me an answer. Instead, he’d just skirt around the issue by suggesting we go to a baseball game or taking me to get ice cream. That’s just how Lance was, though. He avoided the things he didn’t want to deal with until one day he didn’t bother to say or do anything, just walked away. Meanwhile, I spent my years wondering why he didn’t come around more, thinking that perhaps I’d done something wrong. I never could fully understand it, especially after he started a new life, with a new wife and kids.

Other than Lance’s departure and unremitting distance, my childhood was pretty unremarkable up until the year I turned nine. I had friends who I rode bikes and played G.I. Joe with just like any other, normal kid. I played little league baseball, soccer, and basketball, pulled girls’ ponytails, and begged my mom almost constantly for a dog even though she’s allergic. When I was nine, though, things changed pretty dramatically. That’s when my mother’s job offered her a promotion that required her—well, both of us—to move to Paris.

My mother has always been a very headstrong and determined woman. Especially after Lance left us, she threw herself headlong into her work. She was there for me, of course, but she worked from the time I got on the bus in the morning to the time she picked me up from after-school practice. Most nights she’d be doing paperwork and making phone calls while I did my homework. It’s no surprise she got the promotion, and even less of one that she took it. But, at nine, all I could think was that I was going to have to leave my friends, my school, my sports teams… Needless to say, I wasn’t particularly thrilled.

I hated Paris at first. Looking back, it was probably more of an attitude thing than the fact that there was anything wrong with the city itself. It certainly didn’t help that my mom met Carlton, my stepdad, not long after we moved and they quickly went from “just friends” to being in a serious relationship. Not even six months passed before they were happily married. I remember being so angry, both with Lance for leaving and with my mom for abandoning me for my stepdad. That’s how I saw it, anyway. I spent the next few months on this full-on rebellious streak. I did everything I could to make him leave, from putting dog crap in his shoes to mixing his shampoo with blue hair dye. Nothing worked. I know now that he stuck around because of how much he loved my mom, but at the time it was just infuriating.

The day things started to change, Lance was supposed to fly in from the States to spend the weekend with me. We had it all planned out; we were going to go to the Eiffel Tower, the Place de la Concorde, and this little café my mom and I had discovered near our house before she met my stepdad. I spent the whole day waiting in the driveway for him to show. I was sure that he was just late, that he’d call if he couldn’t make it. But he didn’t. When my stepdad walked in on me crying my eyes out that night and asked me if I was alright, I literally attacked him. He just let me punch him until I ended up sobbing into his shirt for the next half hour. I guess… that was the first step to him truly becoming my father.

I met Lily when I was fourteen. Her father was a diplomat and her family ended up moving in just down the street from me. At first, she couldn’t stand me, though I can’t blame her after the awful first impression I gave. I won’t go into the details, but let me just say that helping your friends graffiti the wall of a diplomat’s house is not a great way to impress the ladies. Especially not this particular lady, whose father caught us and made us spend the next week scrubbing every bit of paint off that wall. Needless to say, Lily thought I was a moron.

I saw her here and there over the next couple years, but she usually would just ignore me and walk away. A couple times, she gave me a serious tongue lashing, but that definitely wasn’t the norm. It wasn’t until I saw her at a party nearly two years later that anything changed. She looked so different that night, I hardly even knew it was her. Lily was a beautiful girl, but that night she looked amazing. She was wearing tight blue jeans with black heels and a black halter top. I saw her on the back porch, sipping a beer, and had to pick my jaw up off the ground before I could muster up the courage to say hello. Of course, it didn’t help that she practically hated me, but… you know.

I remember that moment like it was yesterday. The way she turned to look at me with her red-rimmed eyes and asked, much more softly than I’d expected, what I wanted. Her hair was hanging down in her face and I remember wanting so badly to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She looked so small and vulnerable, it was hard to believe that she was the same cocky, stubborn girl I’d known. I still don’t know why she told me about her parents deciding to separate, or why she let me hold her while she cried. Maybe she just really needed a friend and I happened to be the only person there. Whatever the reason, it changed everything for us.

We stayed that way for a while, carefully treading the water of our newfound friendship. About five months passed before I finally asked her to be my girlfriend. She said yes, naturally. I mean, who can resist this, honestly? We did a bunch of crazy stuff back then. I was kind of a rebel without a cause and she… well, she wanted to be. Neither of us were sure of anything back then except that we wanted to be together forever. But I guess… I mean… nothing lasts forever, right?

I was seventeen when she got pregnant. She wanted to have an abortion, thought it would be better for both of us. We were too young to have a kid, she said. And she was right, but I just couldn’t let her do it. I knew I’d never be able to live with myself if I gave up my own child. I didn’t want her to have an abortion and I didn’t even want to put the kid up for adoption. We talked about it—or, I guess I talked about it—but I wanted to keep her. So I did. But Lily was never the same after the decision was made. She hated me for ruining her life, or so she said. She said I didn’t have to live with the shame of it, the way people stared at her like she was a horrible person for being pregnant at her age. As soon as Peyton was born, she shoved her at me and told me to take my daughter and get out of her life. So I did, though not a day goes by that I don’t miss her or wonder about her. She moved not long after Peyton’s birth and I have no idea where she is anymore. I can’t help thinking how nice it would be if she came back. How Peyton needs her mother. But it won’t happen. I know Lily... I did, anyway.

Anyway, it was hell at first, trying to balance school, work, a baby, and a broken heart. I never would have survived without my parents. And, even though Peyton’s birth was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, it was the hardest too. That was when I finally understood that actions have consequences. And, you know, you just have to learn to deal with them. So I am. I want to give my daughter a good life. I’ll do anything I can to make sure she has everything she ever needs, especially what I have in my mom and stepdad. Really, I just want her to be safe and happy. That’s the most important thing in the world to me.”

if you could be anywhere, where would you be? Location isn’t really a big deal to me. I guess it was when I was younger, but now I realise that it’s who you’re with that’s important, not where you are. I know, that sounds like a line from a lame chick flick. But it’s true.

character’s play-by: Clark Mallon

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[headmaster.]

allemagne