The Undying Truth. C J Higginbotham

      Chapter 1

      “Levi, wake up!” my older sister, Cara, says, sitting on my bed.

      “I’m tired, Cara, just a couple of more minutes.”

      “You have been saying that for the last thirty minutes. Come on, we are going to be late for school. You still have to get dressed and put your contacts in,” she tells me, like it’s new information. We have been doing it our whole lives.

      “Okay, I am awake.” I sit up to see her in a T-shirt with our favorite band, and some skinny jeans on. Cara is slim with long brown hair and freckles spread across the top of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. To me, her freckles portray her innocence, and her smile always makes me feel like everything will be okay, which is nice because nothing has ever felt okay.

      I continue to sit there as she walks out of my room. She leaves me to think about my routine, which I dread doing. It’s like hiding myself from everyone every day. If I am always hiding, it makes me wonder if I even belong here. I know I am different, but why do I feel like I am living a lie?

      Yawning, I find a random shirt and regular blue jeans to throw on. I don’t really mind how I look for school. I have no one to impress. Ezra sees it differently, so he pesters me over it. I rush into the bathroom to put in my contacts. I never understood why we need them because all they do is change our eye color. Why should I have to hide the color of my eyes? My irises are blue, and the blue blends into my pupil. The further away from the pupil, the lighter the blue. Why should I have to hide something that makes me so unique?

      I am Leviticus Christopher Porter.

      Now my sister, Cara, has the same pattern in her eyes, but only a different color. Her eyes are green. I wonder if wearing the contacts bothers her as much as it does me. Then there is Ezra, the oldest; he has yellow eyes. Although he has the same unique eye pattern as we do, he is the complete opposite of Cara and me. He’s on the meaner side of the spectrum. The contacts that we must wear make the color of our iris one solid color, to look more like mom’s eyes.

      My dad wears the contacts too. His eyes are gray with the same eye pattern like the rest of us. Dad has a kind of warrior vibe that he gives off, solemn and wise with experience. His gruff yet well-kept beard and strong jawline display that very well. His body resembles a stone wall, and he is almost six feet tall. Although there are many differences we have from everyone else, the pattern of our eye color is the most noticeable thing that sets us apart from everyone else.

      I look in the mirror to see my rounded face looking back at me. My short brown hair is sticking up in the back, and I can take a good guess that this is something Ezra will target me about. I head downstairs to see my dad reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. This is his routine every morning. As I join them, Mom serves Dad his toast and coffee. Since I am running late, I’m the last one to join the table. She has already served Ezra and Cara, while my plate waits for me. My mom has brown hair and brown