 |
| Photo Credit: Dark Before Dusk |
For the safety and anonymity of the characters involved, names and places
have been changed.
“Did you see that GIF I posted on your wall?” said Amy with the blue eyes. She was looking at me, but she was not talking to me.
“The one
with the snake wearing a pink top hat?” said Amy with the brown eyes. She was
sitting behind me. Amy with the blue eyes knew I knew she was staring at me,
but she did not care. The teacher had not arrived yet, and we were waiting for
class to start, so she could do and say whatever she wanted.
“No, Amy,
don’t be an idiot. You posted that
one.”
"No, I
didn’t! That was…” Brown-eyes Amy stopped breathing—this was her way of thinking—while
blue-eyes Amy tapped her phone. She turned the phone and pointed it so I could see. “Watch.”
A
middle-aged woman in the subway, not thin, not attractive, stood up, and a dab
of red stained her seat. She threw her hands up in the air and danced like Ellen
DeGeneres, then turned and twerked against the nearest passenger. In bold
letters, it said, “WHEN YOU THINK YOU PREGNANT BUT YOU DEFINITELY NOT.”
“At least
she got lucky,” spoke another girl leaning over us. Her name was Rachel.
Both Amys
and Rachel laughed at me. They laughed so loudly that the good-looking quiet
boy who dressed like a father and never argued about anything glanced in our
direction. You would think they were talking about “lucky” as in the woman
slept with someone. They were talking about a different kind of lucky.
Blue-eyes
Amy said with a grin, “Some people aren’t so lucky, and nine months later…well...unless,
they do something about that." She turned and spoke directly to me. "A slut should know.”
I was already standing from my
seat.
“Oh! The whore is mad…” Rachel said
under her breath. We were gathering a crowd of classmates. Even Travis, the boy
who preferred watching disturbing YouTube channels to human interaction stood nearby, showing a rare interest in the lives around
him. The quiet boy who dressed like my dad kept his nose down.
I snapped my right hand in front of
Rachel’s face. “Bitch!” I yelled as I reached and grabbed something with my
left hand.
I scanned the room and smiled. The
teacher was still not in the classroom yet. “Well, Amy,” I smirked. Both Amys
looked at me. “It’s funny, when you know someone’s secret. You can control that
person, can’t you? It’s like you have power over them.”
I was tall for a sixteen-year-old,
taller than all the Amys and Rachels, taller than most of the boys. I held my
long arm high and tapped on blue-eyes Amy’s phone and opened up her gallery of
photos. She squealed and tried to reach for it. First picture, a selfie on the
couch. Second picture, she was in the bathroom. People were crowding around
waiting for the next picture. I flipped through them, each one more
embarrassing than the last one. Amy squealing and jumping, never had the sense
to try and pants me or at least tickle. I was a very ticklish person, but Rachel
and the Amys were too focused on the most important object in life—the cell
phone.
Nervous the teacher would arrive, I
released the phone from my hand. Amy caught it before it hit the ground.
Everyone in the class “booed” as Amy scrambled to get away. The only person not
crowded next to me was the handsome boy who dressed like a dad. His head was
turned away from us. I think he was reading the homework assignment.
#
After class ended, I thought about the quiet, good-looking
boy. His name was Carl K. Most of the guys in my class called him Carly because
he spoke like a gentleman, and when a teenage boy speaks like a gentleman, it
means he’s a momma’s boy. According to the unspoken rules of Vista View High, a
momma’s boy was the equivalent of a girl, so they called him a girl’s name,
Carly. Also, he would never fight anyone. He was big, tall and muscles
stretched around his arms and legs. When you were a strong-looking boy, other
strong boys would find reasons to fight you, but he never lifted a hand to anyone,
not even when he was insulted or shoved.
He may be a
good-looking boy, but he was also a nice boy. Girls liked him at first until
they found out he was just a nice boy. According to the unspoken rules of Vista
View High, a nice person was not simply kind and friendly. A nice person was
also passive. Carl took a pass on all fights—whether they be fistfights or
intellectual arguments. The teachers would describe this as a strong character
trait, but as a proud advocate for justice myself, I saw this as a weakness.
Therefore, I usually avoided him. Most of the time I forgot he existed. Until
today.
“You judging
me?” I stood above Carl as he sat outside on the lawn and ate his lunch. Travis
from class was sitting within earshot, but not close enough to look like he was
friends with Carl. He had his nose in his phone, so I ignored the extra
presence.
“No, no I
wasn’t,” Carl said, avoiding eye-contact. I tried not to laugh at the
contradiction of a meek lion.
“Why aren’t
you a jock? You’re obviously strong. I saw you carrying like, fifteen textbooks
the other day.”
Travis
looked up from his phone and laughed. He was listening to our conversation, to
my annoyance.
Carl was
visibly uncomfortable, but he took time to answer. “The guys on the football
team are a little… different. I don’t usually hang out with those kinds of
people.”
I took
offense as my cousin was on the football team. “There are just a couple guys
who get a little raunchy. They’re just saying stupid stuff. It’s pretty much
harmless.”
“Harmless?”
Carl said with soft tones—not a defensive note to be found. He had a
wonderfully sleek jawline and dark, piercing eyes. Then, I remembered Amy
screaming for her phone. Who was I to say what was harmless and stupid and what
was not?
I turned red
and clenched my fists. “Amy asked for that. If you had seen…”
“I saw what
they did. I heard what they said.” Carl took another bite of his bologna
sandwich.
“That was
messed up,” Travis murmured, eyes still fixed on his phone.
Most people
my age would leave and accept defeat, but I was used to
defending myself. “Well, obviously you would have done nothing. I’ve never seen
you do anything. At least I stood up for myself.” I inhaled sharply and added,
“And you are judging me!”
Carl
shrugged. “Sounds to me like you are judging yourself.”
Travis held
up his phone and took a picture of me. Irritated, I grabbed the phone from him
and held it above my head. Now was the time for Carl to do something. I waited,
holding my arm back, ready to smash the phone against the concrete a few feet
away. Travis jumped to his feet, his face pale. “Don’t drop it. Don’t drop it!” The boy’s voice raised to a
scream that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I handed the phone back to
Travis who sauntered away, a dark shadow over his eyes.
“Do you want
to come over for dinner tonight?” Carl said. I tripped on a patch of grass,
speechless.
Comments
Post a Comment