Live For Music

“All seniors report to the aud at this moment.” The principal instructs over the loud speaker across the school.

We’re supposed to go to the auditorium for some lecture about when we graduate and the choices we should make. My stomach flips just thinking about it; graduation. I don’t want it to happen but it’s going to. The students involved in music classes already picked out the songs that are going to be played at the graduation ceremony. My mother tells me I should be involved in something so it looks good on a college resume. But what college is gonna look at my resume and say they like the activities I participated in when my career might be something totally different?

But I have absolutely no idea what I want to be in life. My mother wants me to be a chef and my dad wants me to follow his footsteps and be a mechanic. No thank you; I’d rather be a male stripper than a grease monkey. Anything but that. There’s just so much to choose from and I don’t know what I’m good at and I’m afraid if I finally make up my mind, it might be too late. Then I’ll be stuck at home with my parents, flipping burgers at Burger King, and living off Ramen and Playboy since I’ll never be able to get a girl living with my parents. Life pretty much sucks right now.

I stand up and walk out the classroom with five other seniors. We walk down the hallway with seniors walking from everywhere. Classrooms, stair cases, lunch room, gymnasium, library; the amount of kids trying to file down the hallway reminds me of bottle-neckers in Los Angeles. I heard that’s a great city to go to when you’re looking for a job. Maybe after I graduate I can move there and find out what I want to be in life. My stomach does another flip and I grip the closest thing to me so I don’t fall over.

I rest all my weight on my hands on the water fountain. I lean down and take a drink. Maybe I can swallow down the fear and tension but it’s still there. Maybe I can cut the lecture and walk out of school. I don’t think any hall monitors would notice from all the seniors in the way. But when I get close enough to the closest exit, I see it’s guarded by the school officer. He’s a dick. Why don’t they let kids skip out on things that don’t interest them? It’s insane. No wonder so many kids stop going to school or drop out. It’s like a penitentiary and everyone’s on watch.

I finally get up to the double doors to the aud and walk inside. I look for an open seat or any of my friends. I see my group and they’ve saved me a seat. The nervous feeling starts to die down now that I can probably talk to them the whole time and not listen to the lecture about graduation. But with my luck, there’s a teacher guiding students into the row of seats and my seat is taken my some brunette chick. The panic starts to rise again. How am I gonna be able to remain calm if I have nothing to distract me? Can I go to the nurse? Maybe I’ll be able to skip out of this by doing that. I walk over to the teacher and ask him if I can go to the nurse and I feel ill. He told me the lecture won’t be long and that I should find an empty seat and sit down. Hopefully it’ll be short like he said.

An hour later, I’m dozing off in my seat, not listening to the counselor’s voice go on and on about college and careers. It’s so boring and I don’t think half the seniors are paying attention. I lean my head back and close my eyes, hoping this will be done soon, very soon. I jump out of my skin when I feel a hand slap onto my shoulder.

“Try to stay awake, kid. This is important.” The teacher says and the sick feeling comes back.

“Mr. Mourn, I think I’m going to throw up.” I reply quickly and wrap my arms across my stomach.

“Alright, fine. You can go to the nurse but I didn’t send you. You’re supposed to be in here but if you’re going to blow chunks, then leave.”

“Thank you so much, sir.” I thank and get out of my seat.

I crawl through the tight space between the knees of students and the backs of the seats until I make my way into the aisle and walk briskly toward the exit of the aud. I continue my brisk walk to the nurse’s office and make my way into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and run over to the toilet. The heaves start as I hover over the toilet and I feel my lunch come up and watch it spill into the bowl. It continues two other times until my panic dies down.

I flush the toilet and walk over to the sink. I see my reflection in the mirror. My skin is pale, making my eyes the color of the ocean. My black hair is in my face so I flip it to the side where it should be so I look sane. But the look of fear and anxiety is still in my eyes. I turn on the sink and cup my hands to fill water and bend over to sip some in my mouth and spit it out. I still have the taste of lunch and stomach acid in my mouth so I sip some more water and rinse my mouth out. Then I fill more water in my hands and wipe it across my forehead and down my cheeks. I shut off the water and reach for some paper towels and dry my hands and face off. After throwing out my garbage I walk out the door and walk to the nurse.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” She says when she looks up at me.

“I just blew chunks.” I said. “I’m not feeling so well.”

“Do you want to call home?” She asks.

“Sure.” I reply and I give her my number so she can call dial my mom and hands the phone to me. It rings three times until my mother answers.

“Hello?” She sings in her lovely happy voice. I can hear the vacuum cleaner running in the background.

“Hey mom, it’s me.” I say sounding weak so she’ll pity me and take me home.

“Hey, honey, what’s wrong?” She asks.

“I’m in the nurse’s office. I just blew chunks in the bathroom. Can I go home?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Kay, thanks.”

“Love you, sweetie.” She says.

“I know, mom.” If anyone heard me say ‘I love you’ to my mom, I’d get my ass kicked by the jocks here at school. It’s bad enough I have black flippy hair and wear comfortably tight jeans and slip on shoes. I’m lucky I haven’t had my ass kicked yet.