beckett quincy kingsley | seventeen | surf instructor | kleptomaniac 

+ a ring

the eight year old shifts in his itchy dress pants and feels the black tie around his throat practically suffocate him. everyone's hugging him; people he doesn't even know and they're clutching tissues soaked with tears mixed with snot. everyone talks about how happy she was and how she was always smiling. they talk about the moments they shared with her. it made him want to scream, the fact that everyone seemed to ignore the biggest fact staring them all straight in the face; that's she dead, gone. no one dares to say cancer as if it were a swear word, like it would bite them. they act like they didn't have months to prepare for this, like they didn't see it coming. 

his father stands in the back shaking everyone's hands telling them "she's in a happier place," but he doesn't know his dad could possibly know that. when the people dressed in black stop coming over to him and telling him that his mother loved him, like he somehow forgot between the time she was alive and now, he walks over the big wooden box. half of the lid is open and he sees his mother lying in there, pale with makeup on her face and he isn't sure why. he didn't know her like this, with red lipstick and mascara. he knew her with her hair disheveled, flour on her face and laughing. after making sure no one was looking, he reached in and grabbed the wedding ring off of her hand- he wanted something to keep from her, something physical to remember her by- not a bunch of other people's memories about her.

+the adventures of huckleberry finn

even at ten years old reading books was not his favorite pastime, much preferring the outdoors. he was a wild child, full of energy and couldn't be contained. his parents often set him loose in the backyard to release all of that raw energy. but one day his father sends him off to the library- he has errands to run and that he should 'read a book for once that isn't assigned for school.' 

he feels the soft paper cover in his sweaty hands. it's worn and he likes the feel of the pages flipping through his hands. the list of people before him who have borrowed the book goes back to forever ago, before he was born. that's when he notices her name. catherine kingsley before he knows it, the book is in his backpack and he's walking out the door while the librarian is helping someone sign up for a library card. he has one, but he doesn't want to temporarily own the book, he wants to keep it. whenever someone asks him what his favorite book is, he replies with huck finn. he hates reading, but he loves reading the stolen book. he loves trying to pick out what passages his mother liked the best and what parts made her cry. it's the closest he's felt to her since she died.

+candy bars and bubble gum

the newly thirteen year old boy is dragged along with his father to go grocery shopping. 'you want to eat this food? then you can come shopping for it.' the line is moving excruciatingly slow, a lady just happens to be using eleven different coupons and his dad is distracted by the new sports illustrated. a glance at the candy shelf and his hands starts twitching. he's not sure what's going on or why he suddenly feels the urge to take something that doesn't belong to him. his hands reach over to grab a snickers bar and it easily slides into his jeans pocket without anyone catching him. and with every shopping trip, he takes something- even the gross almond joys he hates. the theft he used to rationalize as taking what belonged to him- pieces of his mother, was no longer morally sound. sometimes he took things because he wanted them and other times he grabbed things even though he hated them. and even from time to time he'll walk out of a place with something in his pocket or hand that he couldn't even remember grabbing.

+red guitar pick

he originally walked into the music store with the intention of buying the newest jack johnson cd when his fingers find the small plastic object. it's a funny shape and it intrigues him. the logo is gold and he likes the noise of tapping his finger nail against it. it reminds him of a better time, in the early years. she used to play the guitar, humming along to the random chords her fingers played. there was no particular melody or song in her head, it was just whatever she was feeling. his father would sit in their rocking chair and study her playing by the window with the summer sun streaming in. whenever he walked in on his parents sitting just like that, on opposite sides of the living room he'd go back to wherever he'd come from, leaving them be. and when she was sick she had him put on old records, because she appreciated old fashioned things like that. he wished they had played the beach boys at her funeral, he knew she would have wanted it.
 
he still pays for the cd, but the pick finds its way into his back pocket. a few months later he finally puts the object to use and learns how to play the guitar. the first song he learns is 'stoked'

+surf wax

like most other teenagers in california, he grows up loving the ocean and could surf as long as he can remember. his mother and father used to take him out with them, early in the morning when it was dark the air was still cold even in the middle of july. they would surf until the sun rose, casting an orange glow on the waves they rode. almost every summer he can remember, is spent at the beach or at the skatepark. with taco trucks and milkshakes. the summer after she died, his father suggested going somewhere, anywhere but here, just to get away from her. every wave, every sunset, every thunderstorm, reminded him of her. but the young boy refused; this was their home and they couldn't run away from it. 

the local surf shop, the one all the real local surfers go to, is covered with posters in the window and the sign is so tiny it's practically nonexistent. but he's been frequenting the shop since he was a grom and all the cashiers know him. he jokes with the owner, who asks him when he's ever going to surf anything but the local break. he shrugs and says 'eventually' but he has no plans of leaving. as soon as he mentions that he just turned sixteen he walks out with a new job, as a cashier, and a bar of surf wax (the strawberry scent, that his mom used) in his pocket.
 
for his seventeenth birthday he gets a growth spurt and a brand new 6' short board. after the summer season, he gets a promotion to surf instructor. maybe because he's buffed up and improved his form, maybe because girls love his classic california look. maybe both.

//
he's a really interesting character that i created for a different site, but i really love him and maybe i'll bring him to polyvore. if anyone would like to rp with him or add him to a group or something, comment or pm me!
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