Teal.
Avoidance.
I wish there was a protocol for this sort of thing.
I wish I could define 'this sort of thing'. Saying my best friend accidentally found out that I'm a mythological creature the morning after we'd done everything but slept together would be true, but it would also be a mouthful. I'm a man of few words. If I can even be considered a man anymore. I feel like I'm avoiding Willow even though I'm going out of my way to bump into her. I surprised her with a ride at her house, only to find out she'd already taken the bus; I took a backwards roundabout way to calc in a futile attempt to bump into her on her way to Honors English; I even braved the yearbook and newspaper offices in hopes of cornering her there during lunch, only to find that she'd disappeared seconds before I'd arrived.
I see her in the hallway now, ducking underneath the too tall jocks that make lewd remarks about her outfit. It would be acceptable on anyone else, but since she's unavailable they take any low blow they can get. “Nice tits,” One guy calls as she pushes past him. I don't know if I'm more afraid for her, or upset that she's swallowing her cutting retorts today. Either way, her her uncharacteristic and sudden hearing loss remind me just how shaken up she really is. Her hair – usually shiny and falling in waves is pulled up into a severe ponytail that hurts my head. She's traded in her makeup for an au natural look that makes her look fourteen. And her usually carefully selected outfit has been exchanged for sweatpants and a girls undershirt that she's trying to turn into a tank top. She still looks gorgeous, but she doesn't look like Willow{/i]. I call her name once, than twice just to make sure she heard me and she turns with wide startled eyes. For a second our eyes connect. I see more than I ever wanted to. Her gaze smolders, but she ducks and disappears quickly.
Stupid dragon I still have my last class with her. Her and Libby. Girlfriend of the week. Libby is across the hall, flirting with a pretty blond girl. The pretty blonde locks eyes with me and her name snaps into place. Eden McGreggor. Everyone who's ever spent ten minuets at Mountain High knows that her and Willow hate each other. Knowing that Libby is going out of her way to flirt with her, makes me sick. Her so-called girlfriend is acting so uncharacteristic that warning signs are flaring up like red SOS flares and she's leaning against a door frame flirting with someone else.
By the time I've made my way through the mass of teenagers avoiding their last classes, Willow is already gone, vanished. I resolve to talk to her before class begins, because the agony of sitting across the room from her for 45 minuets will be like a sucker punch to the gut. I don't even know what I'm going to say. My mind creates a thousand scenarios, opening lines, dirty looks. My face heats up from embarrassment, just at the prospect of having to confront Willow. In the months that we've been friends we've had a lot of discussions (read: arguments), but never over anything so serious. Something that could... could unravel our friendship. No matter what's happening, I know I have to keep Willow. By the time I reach the front door of the history classroom I've convinced myself into confronting her. I have to. I can't go home okay, leaving this such a fucking mess. There's only one problem with my plan.
Willow's not in History. No problem, I think, she's just in the bathroom. I rush in past the late bell and find a seat next to Libby, who's doing her best to pretend I'm not there. I study Libby while waiting for Willow to come back from the bathrooms. She's tall for a girl, but still shorter than me. Probably somewhere around six feet, but no higher. Her dark brown hair is cut short, and a LA hat sits lopsided over her short hair. She doesn't wear makeup, even though her face would benefit it. Instead she has piercings. A dyke, and snake bites mar her thin lips. Her eyebrow is pierced with a ring so big it looks like her eyebrow might start sagging soon. Her ears are pierced, but not in the cute girly way Willow's are. They're almost big enough to shove a soda can through. She doesn't even dress like a girl. With her too thin frame, and obvious lack of breasts its no wonder everyone confuses her for a boy. Not that she minds. Everyone calls her Bye, which is – in my humble opinion – the stupidest nickname she could have thought up. I don't even know what Willow sees in her.
The class is half over by the time I realize that Willow hasn't shown up. “Psst, Libby.”
Her shoulder twitches. No one calls her Libby, not even her teachers. “What.”
“Have you seen Wills?”
She turns, her eyes set in a glare before she even connects with me. Her mouth is this nasty snarl/smirk. “What's it to you?” She asks, but it comes out like Wahtsss eet to yuh? Trailer trash if anyone ever was. I don't even know how she ended up at this school, or how Willow puts up with her.
I want to give her the biting retort I know she's looking for, but I need to know where Wills is and the last thing I need to do is insult her 'girlfriend' while I'm on her shit list. “She was supposed to meet me after school, we have a photography assignment together.” The lie was easy, and Libby's brow furrowed. Maybe she was deep in thought. Maybe she just needed to take a shit. “Please,” I'm practically begging. “Its one of those grade-demanding assignments, you know.”
She shrugs. “I dunno. Prolly ditched, again.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit fuckity shit. Fuck it to hell. I have to catch her before she gets home, because she'll never let me see her once she's on the other side of a locked door. “Mr. Hughes?” I interrupt his rapport of shit we haven't cared about since second grade. He looks startled, but acknowledges me. “Can I get a bathroom pass?”
Libby looks up to glare, but I ignore her. “Is it dire, Mr. Sullivan?”
“Yes, sir.”
he shrugs, and points to the back door. I grab my backpack and run.
I can hear her before I see her. Shouting, and cursing, and screaming in a language I don't understand. I want to kick myself for taking Spanish instead of French, because any sort of knowledge of the latter might make eavesdropping on a furious Willow a little bit more understandable. She switches back to English easy enough, still furious with whomever is on the phone. “I don't understand why you always have to blow shit like this out of proportion, Lib! I was sick all weekend, could you not tell?” She paused to catch her breath, and I peeked out behind an old oak to watch her. Her hair was loose now, and a big jacket was covering everything her flimsy tank top had left bare. “He's my friend! I'm not you. I don't sleep with anyone who shows an interest.” I can hear it on the tip of her tongue. I can already taste the sweet sweet nectar of another breakup. “I will not,” she shouts.
“Will...”
She drops the phone. She's still furious. “What?” she demands. I don't have any reply. “How long have you been standing there, you asshole?”
“Uh,”
“Why can't you take a hint?”
We're so deep into the woods that her voice vibrates and falls back to us. It echos three times, each just a bit more faint than the last. “I need to talk to you.”
“About how you're bat shit insane, right? I'm not in the mood.”
“I'm not insane, Wills. You know that. You saw that.”
She crosses her arms across her chest. “I didn't see anything.”
“Than why are you avoiding me?”
She shrugs, “You scare me.”
“I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry I fucked up, and I'm sorry that I scared you. I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you, no matter what. I Promise.”
“You think you're a dragon!”
“I don't think, Will. I know I am. You know I am. You saw it. You saw me!” My voice is louder than hers. Screaming makes my entire chest vibrate. Before I understand it, fear courses through me. Fear and pure unadulterated anger. The feeling of transforming is like a really good stretch after a nap. I let my wing fan out around me and plant my feet hard into the wet ground. Willow seems so small now, but her terror only upsets me more. “I'm not insane. You're not insane. You're looking at me right now and I'm not a human. I'm a big ugly dragon.”
She glares. “You're such an asshole.”
I wish I could define 'this sort of thing'. Saying my best friend accidentally found out that I'm a mythological creature the morning after we'd done everything but slept together would be true, but it would also be a mouthful. I'm a man of few words. If I can even be considered a man anymore. I feel like I'm avoiding Willow even though I'm going out of my way to bump into her. I surprised her with a ride at her house, only to find out she'd already taken the bus; I took a backwards roundabout way to calc in a futile attempt to bump into her on her way to Honors English; I even braved the yearbook and newspaper offices in hopes of cornering her there during lunch, only to find that she'd disappeared seconds before I'd arrived.
I see her in the hallway now, ducking underneath the too tall jocks that make lewd remarks about her outfit. It would be acceptable on anyone else, but since she's unavailable they take any low blow they can get. “Nice tits,” One guy calls as she pushes past him. I don't know if I'm more afraid for her, or upset that she's swallowing her cutting retorts today. Either way, her her uncharacteristic and sudden hearing loss remind me just how shaken up she really is. Her hair – usually shiny and falling in waves is pulled up into a severe ponytail that hurts my head. She's traded in her makeup for an au natural look that makes her look fourteen. And her usually carefully selected outfit has been exchanged for sweatpants and a girls undershirt that she's trying to turn into a tank top. She still looks gorgeous, but she doesn't look like Willow{/i]. I call her name once, than twice just to make sure she heard me and she turns with wide startled eyes. For a second our eyes connect. I see more than I ever wanted to. Her gaze smolders, but she ducks and disappears quickly.
Stupid dragon I still have my last class with her. Her and Libby. Girlfriend of the week. Libby is across the hall, flirting with a pretty blond girl. The pretty blonde locks eyes with me and her name snaps into place. Eden McGreggor. Everyone who's ever spent ten minuets at Mountain High knows that her and Willow hate each other. Knowing that Libby is going out of her way to flirt with her, makes me sick. Her so-called girlfriend is acting so uncharacteristic that warning signs are flaring up like red SOS flares and she's leaning against a door frame flirting with someone else.
By the time I've made my way through the mass of teenagers avoiding their last classes, Willow is already gone, vanished. I resolve to talk to her before class begins, because the agony of sitting across the room from her for 45 minuets will be like a sucker punch to the gut. I don't even know what I'm going to say. My mind creates a thousand scenarios, opening lines, dirty looks. My face heats up from embarrassment, just at the prospect of having to confront Willow. In the months that we've been friends we've had a lot of discussions (read: arguments), but never over anything so serious. Something that could... could unravel our friendship. No matter what's happening, I know I have to keep Willow. By the time I reach the front door of the history classroom I've convinced myself into confronting her. I have to. I can't go home okay, leaving this such a fucking mess. There's only one problem with my plan.
Willow's not in History. No problem, I think, she's just in the bathroom. I rush in past the late bell and find a seat next to Libby, who's doing her best to pretend I'm not there. I study Libby while waiting for Willow to come back from the bathrooms. She's tall for a girl, but still shorter than me. Probably somewhere around six feet, but no higher. Her dark brown hair is cut short, and a LA hat sits lopsided over her short hair. She doesn't wear makeup, even though her face would benefit it. Instead she has piercings. A dyke, and snake bites mar her thin lips. Her eyebrow is pierced with a ring so big it looks like her eyebrow might start sagging soon. Her ears are pierced, but not in the cute girly way Willow's are. They're almost big enough to shove a soda can through. She doesn't even dress like a girl. With her too thin frame, and obvious lack of breasts its no wonder everyone confuses her for a boy. Not that she minds. Everyone calls her Bye, which is – in my humble opinion – the stupidest nickname she could have thought up. I don't even know what Willow sees in her.
The class is half over by the time I realize that Willow hasn't shown up. “Psst, Libby.”
Her shoulder twitches. No one calls her Libby, not even her teachers. “What.”
“Have you seen Wills?”
She turns, her eyes set in a glare before she even connects with me. Her mouth is this nasty snarl/smirk. “What's it to you?” She asks, but it comes out like Wahtsss eet to yuh? Trailer trash if anyone ever was. I don't even know how she ended up at this school, or how Willow puts up with her.
I want to give her the biting retort I know she's looking for, but I need to know where Wills is and the last thing I need to do is insult her 'girlfriend' while I'm on her shit list. “She was supposed to meet me after school, we have a photography assignment together.” The lie was easy, and Libby's brow furrowed. Maybe she was deep in thought. Maybe she just needed to take a shit. “Please,” I'm practically begging. “Its one of those grade-demanding assignments, you know.”
She shrugs. “I dunno. Prolly ditched, again.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit fuckity shit. Fuck it to hell. I have to catch her before she gets home, because she'll never let me see her once she's on the other side of a locked door. “Mr. Hughes?” I interrupt his rapport of shit we haven't cared about since second grade. He looks startled, but acknowledges me. “Can I get a bathroom pass?”
Libby looks up to glare, but I ignore her. “Is it dire, Mr. Sullivan?”
“Yes, sir.”
he shrugs, and points to the back door. I grab my backpack and run.
I can hear her before I see her. Shouting, and cursing, and screaming in a language I don't understand. I want to kick myself for taking Spanish instead of French, because any sort of knowledge of the latter might make eavesdropping on a furious Willow a little bit more understandable. She switches back to English easy enough, still furious with whomever is on the phone. “I don't understand why you always have to blow shit like this out of proportion, Lib! I was sick all weekend, could you not tell?” She paused to catch her breath, and I peeked out behind an old oak to watch her. Her hair was loose now, and a big jacket was covering everything her flimsy tank top had left bare. “He's my friend! I'm not you. I don't sleep with anyone who shows an interest.” I can hear it on the tip of her tongue. I can already taste the sweet sweet nectar of another breakup. “I will not,” she shouts.
“Will...”
She drops the phone. She's still furious. “What?” she demands. I don't have any reply. “How long have you been standing there, you asshole?”
“Uh,”
“Why can't you take a hint?”
We're so deep into the woods that her voice vibrates and falls back to us. It echos three times, each just a bit more faint than the last. “I need to talk to you.”
“About how you're bat shit insane, right? I'm not in the mood.”
“I'm not insane, Wills. You know that. You saw that.”
She crosses her arms across her chest. “I didn't see anything.”
“Than why are you avoiding me?”
She shrugs, “You scare me.”
“I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry I fucked up, and I'm sorry that I scared you. I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you, no matter what. I Promise.”
“You think you're a dragon!”
“I don't think, Will. I know I am. You know I am. You saw it. You saw me!” My voice is louder than hers. Screaming makes my entire chest vibrate. Before I understand it, fear courses through me. Fear and pure unadulterated anger. The feeling of transforming is like a really good stretch after a nap. I let my wing fan out around me and plant my feet hard into the wet ground. Willow seems so small now, but her terror only upsets me more. “I'm not insane. You're not insane. You're looking at me right now and I'm not a human. I'm a big ugly dragon.”
She glares. “You're such an asshole.”