Red StClaire

[saffron]

My name is Red StClaire.
I've always been the bad kid. I guess it was my destiny or some shit. I was born in California. My mom, well, my mom is my hero. It sounds kinda stupid, I know. A guy looking up to his mom as much as I do, but seriously by mom is one tough bitch. Life has handed her nothing but shit, and she's just overcome it with the best attitude in the world. Sure, sometimes I'd come home from school and she'd be on the floor, curled in to a little ball, sobbing her eyes out, and for a second, just a second I'd see her as this vulnerable person. Thing is, the moment she realized I was there she'd be up on her feet, wiping away her tears, she'd just deal with it.
My real dad left before I was even born. I've never met the guy. I have this feeling my mom isn't even certain who he is, but I don't give a fuck if I'm honest. I'm not trying to say I've done just fine without a dad, 'cause I haven't. I really haven't. I could have done with a real masculine figure when I was growing up, yeah, my mom was awesome, but she never disciplined me in any way. I had a lot of 'uncles' and they all turned out to be complete jerks. Well, except one ...
Troy came to live with us when I was eleven. I remember how much I looked up to him, he was so cool. The guy wore Hawaiian shirts, ripped jeans, flip-flops and sunglasses, all year round. I wanted to be just like Troy. I wanted to surf and play guitar, I even wanted to work at a gas station, because Troy did. We played happy families for four whole years before shit started to get real.
-
I came home one night, I can't remember where I'd been, out surfing or skating or something. My mom was stood in the kitchen, with her back to the door, and she was doing the dishes. Which is weird, 'cause we used to eat off these paper plates, so I think she must have been washing like ... a clean plate, I don't know. When she turns round she's got this big black eye, like a really bad one. I just see red, I drop my shit on the floor and storm out. My mom is running after me, like, begging me not to do anything, but I'm not listening, I bat her away. I find Troy in the living room, just lazing on the couch, same thing he'd been doing every night for the past God knows how long.
'You pathetic fucking bastard', I growl at him and my hands are already balled in to fists.
'Hey, kid, Red, buddy', he's stood up know, trying to act like 'Mr Nice-Guy', the 'cool dad', it's all an act. It's all been a fucking act.
That's when I hit him, and it's pathetic. I actually break one of my fingers just from hitting his jaw at an odd angle. In recoil in pain, there's tears in my eyes. I just stare at this guy, the guy that hit my mom, this guy I trusted. I wanted to be him. I'm just clinging on to my smashed up hand, sobbing like a complete idiot. Troy doesn't even hold back. The guy doesn't even think, 'Oh hey, fair enough I punched this kids mom', doesn't even think, 'Well he is only fourteen'. Oh no, he just goes for it.
-
I ended up in Hospital, for five weeks. I got beat up so hard that my ribs broke, and one of the broken ribs punctured my lung. We moved away not long after that. My mom did nothing but apologize, but I don't even blame her. Who am I to blame her for just seeking company? Maybe her choice wasn't perfect, but, you know, for awhile there I thought we were finally a family. I believed in Troy too.
Since we moved to New York we've had no trouble. No more 'uncles'. My mom has a steady job as a tattoo artist, which is awesome, because she's been in to drawing since I can remember. Thing is, we don't have much money. At the moment we're living off my moms wage, which is basically nothing, 'cause she's kind of just an apprentice. I get fired from every job I get 'cause of my 'anger issues'. We're really just scraping on by.
My main goal in life is simple. I wanna get rich, any way possible. I wanna make my mom proud, I want her to never need anything again.

Full Name:
Red StClaire. Yes, Red. There is no way on earth you can shorten it, and if you can think of any good nicknames to go with that, be my guest.

Age:
Seventeen.

Gender:
Male.

Grade:
Junior.

Appearance:
Red isn't the tallest guy in the school, but luckily he isn't the shortest either, he stands at 5"8 when he isn't slouching. When he's slouched he can easily pass for being 5"5, and this is one of the reasons he gets picked last in gym for basketball. Red isn't skinny, but he isn't fat either, he sort of borders on the line of being skinny, but he's constantly changing weight. It's like his metabolism can't decided what it's doing. The doctors put it down to stress.
Red's hair is a dirty blonde colour and is naturally quite curly, but when it's long it tends to be just mildly wavy. Red's eyes are a dark blue, he's quite heavy lidded, and has an almost constant 'sleepy' look about him. The only time you'll see him with his eyes wide open is when he'd angry or really surprised. Red has a really grate smile, his teeth are pure white and are super straight thanks to braces. When he smiles he gets dimples in his cheeks, which no man, woman, animal or plant can resist. Unfortunately he doesn't smile as much as people would like.
Red's fashion sense is really out of touch, since he'd lived in California all his life he was used to wearing shorts, no shirt and converse. Now he lives in New York he dresses a lot like Kurt Cobain used to. Cardigans ripped jeans, baggy t-shirts. Grunge as fuck.

Personality:
Angsty. Angry, Irritable
Sarcastic, Witty, Dry
Somethings

Other:
- Red smokes pot and cigarettes, as does his mom, they get high together, his mom is rad.
- Has been employed at every fast food establishment you can think of (probably)