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Get Me Back on Skates
2. Why bother?
“I’m sorry! I didn mean to do zat! I don know what I was tinking!” I desprately tried to wipe the coffee off his shirt, and, as I did, I felt his abs underneath. Back in Russia, I used to play hockey, and so did my old boyfriend, Alexei. Alexei constantly took his shirt off, and you could tell he was an athlete.
Well, so was this guy.
“Uh, something wrong?” He looked at me curiously. That’s when I realized that my hand was still on his stomach. I quickly pulled away and blushed. He chuckled lightly.
“Don’t worry about it. We’re only human.”
I zipped open my backpack, took out my wallet, and gave him forty dollars. He looked at me like I just murdered someone. It was quite funny, honestly, but I was dead serious.
“What? Take ze money. For shirt. C’mon! Is not that hard! Just grab ze money!” I shoved the paper at him.
He laughed again and pushed it back at me.
“No way! It’s just a shirt. It’s not like I’m gonna die or anything!” After a moment, he cleared his throat as an awkward silence filled the air. Then I heard running footsteps sloshing through the mud. A group of about seven boys ran up to us.
“Romeo, Romeo! Where for art thou Romeo!” They teased.
One heavy boy shouted to me.
“Hey Anya! Did anyone ever tell you that we don’t wear coffee?”
I know it doesn’t seem like much of an insult, but I already had such low self-esteem that anything anybody said could hurt me. I felt the tears streak down my face, but I hoped no one would notice because of the rain. Boy, was I wrong.
“Awww. Poor baby! Anya, should we call Mama?” They all acted like crying children as they took turns squeezing me until I could barely breathe.
“DON TOUCH MEH!” I yelled. They mocked my accent through high pitched, phony voices. One with blonde curly hair wrapped one arm around my shoulder, and the other around my waist. As I was blinded by tears, I felt the blonde guy's hand move lower and lower.
I pushed away from the boy and ran back towards my apartment. Surprisingly, the streets weren’t as crowded as I thought they would be. I felt a strong hand try to pull me back, but I dropped my backpack and ran even faster away from the taunting and the teasing.
I didn’t bother taking the elevator. It was so slow, and anybody could just walk in and see me crying. I rushed up the stairs, falling repeatedly, until I got to the eighth floor. My backpack had my apartment key, and Em was at the gym until eleven, so I was screwed. I had nowhere to go, so I might as well just lay there in the hall, sobbing.
But I wasn’t alone.
Well, so was this guy.
“Uh, something wrong?” He looked at me curiously. That’s when I realized that my hand was still on his stomach. I quickly pulled away and blushed. He chuckled lightly.
“Don’t worry about it. We’re only human.”
I zipped open my backpack, took out my wallet, and gave him forty dollars. He looked at me like I just murdered someone. It was quite funny, honestly, but I was dead serious.
“What? Take ze money. For shirt. C’mon! Is not that hard! Just grab ze money!” I shoved the paper at him.
He laughed again and pushed it back at me.
“No way! It’s just a shirt. It’s not like I’m gonna die or anything!” After a moment, he cleared his throat as an awkward silence filled the air. Then I heard running footsteps sloshing through the mud. A group of about seven boys ran up to us.
“Romeo, Romeo! Where for art thou Romeo!” They teased.
One heavy boy shouted to me.
“Hey Anya! Did anyone ever tell you that we don’t wear coffee?”
I know it doesn’t seem like much of an insult, but I already had such low self-esteem that anything anybody said could hurt me. I felt the tears streak down my face, but I hoped no one would notice because of the rain. Boy, was I wrong.
“Awww. Poor baby! Anya, should we call Mama?” They all acted like crying children as they took turns squeezing me until I could barely breathe.
“DON TOUCH MEH!” I yelled. They mocked my accent through high pitched, phony voices. One with blonde curly hair wrapped one arm around my shoulder, and the other around my waist. As I was blinded by tears, I felt the blonde guy's hand move lower and lower.
I pushed away from the boy and ran back towards my apartment. Surprisingly, the streets weren’t as crowded as I thought they would be. I felt a strong hand try to pull me back, but I dropped my backpack and ran even faster away from the taunting and the teasing.
I didn’t bother taking the elevator. It was so slow, and anybody could just walk in and see me crying. I rushed up the stairs, falling repeatedly, until I got to the eighth floor. My backpack had my apartment key, and Em was at the gym until eleven, so I was screwed. I had nowhere to go, so I might as well just lay there in the hall, sobbing.
But I wasn’t alone.