Teenagers
Aren't Fridays Supposed To Be Good?
"You punched him?"
"Yes, Amaya," I said sternly, "I punched him right in his ugly face. So what?"
"Why the hell would you do that? I like him, Adira."
I groaned. "He's a bastard, that's why. you deserve better."
Shaking her head, she backed away. "You're the only bastard here."
I sighed, but let her walk away. We had our next class, 6th period, together anyway, so I just left our spot in the hall to go to Mr. Griffon's classroom. When I got there, she was talking to him. I sat in my seat anyway, waiting for her to sit next to me so that I could apologize. Maybe.
She didn't sit down next to me. Instead, she sat in the empty seat 2 rows behind me. I'll never understand why she did that
As it was Friday, the band played at a football game that night. Saxophones sat right behind the clarinets, which I was always happy for, because I got to talk to Carlos. Kyle and Amaya sat at the very far end of the saxophone row, as far as possible from us. Her legs over his, I couldn't remember what I saw in her. I was anxious for the 3rd quarter break, and while I waited, I fiddled with my clarinet when we were supposed to play.
In between tunes, I turned around to Carlos. "Do you smoke?"
"Every now and then. Rarely. Why?"
"Do you have any cigarettes on you right now?"
"Yeah. During the break?"
Of course," I laugh.
And we did smoke them, but not without noticing a little someone under the bleachers as well. Chain-smoking through 8 of his Marlboro's, I couldn't ignore her. Angry, I threw a rock in some random direction. Of course it just happened to go their direction. "Ow!"
"Who threw that?" Kyle was trying to act tough for her. I knew he was a good guy, but Amaya made me hate him. I wished Carlos would kick his sorry ass, but Carlos just laughed and shook his head at me, saying we needed to go back up to the bleachers.
Kyle and Amaya were walking towards us, though, hand in hand. What did I see in her? Suddenly, she whispered something in his ear.
"Hey, Adira. You're pretty skinny." Her lips whispered more to him. "And you always wear long sleeves. That's a weird combination, don't you think? Usually people with good figures want to show it off, but you hide it." He was only 10 feet away now. "I've heard some interesting things about you lately."
Where was Carlos? I was tempted to back away until i ran into him, but I stood my ground, staring right into the face of this guy that I used to enjoy being around. Amaya clung onto him like a little slut, telling things that only she knew. She knew what she was doing, but I wasn't going to give her the pride of defeat. I just stood there, staring at Kyle.
"Take off the long sleeves. Roll 'em up a little."
"Why are you always drunk Kyle?"
"Is that any of your damn business? Didn't think so." He quickly moved at me and rolled my sleeve up a little bit.
I smacked his hand away, turning around to see Carlos just standing there. I glared at him, incredulous. "You're just gonna watch?"
He seemed to snap out of his little reverie, and then he apologized while heading back up to the bleachers, away from Kyle and Amaya, who stayed under for the rest of the game. No one but us seemed to have noticed. He called my name as we walked away, but we didn't turn, and he didn't follow.
Carlos wrapped me in one of his comforting hugs and told me it would be alright. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I wanted to purge, but couldn't. I was hungry, yet full, yet so empty and so confused.
At least Carlos's arms felt comforting and familiar.
"Yes, Amaya," I said sternly, "I punched him right in his ugly face. So what?"
"Why the hell would you do that? I like him, Adira."
I groaned. "He's a bastard, that's why. you deserve better."
Shaking her head, she backed away. "You're the only bastard here."
I sighed, but let her walk away. We had our next class, 6th period, together anyway, so I just left our spot in the hall to go to Mr. Griffon's classroom. When I got there, she was talking to him. I sat in my seat anyway, waiting for her to sit next to me so that I could apologize. Maybe.
She didn't sit down next to me. Instead, she sat in the empty seat 2 rows behind me. I'll never understand why she did that
As it was Friday, the band played at a football game that night. Saxophones sat right behind the clarinets, which I was always happy for, because I got to talk to Carlos. Kyle and Amaya sat at the very far end of the saxophone row, as far as possible from us. Her legs over his, I couldn't remember what I saw in her. I was anxious for the 3rd quarter break, and while I waited, I fiddled with my clarinet when we were supposed to play.
In between tunes, I turned around to Carlos. "Do you smoke?"
"Every now and then. Rarely. Why?"
"Do you have any cigarettes on you right now?"
"Yeah. During the break?"
Of course," I laugh.
And we did smoke them, but not without noticing a little someone under the bleachers as well. Chain-smoking through 8 of his Marlboro's, I couldn't ignore her. Angry, I threw a rock in some random direction. Of course it just happened to go their direction. "Ow!"
"Who threw that?" Kyle was trying to act tough for her. I knew he was a good guy, but Amaya made me hate him. I wished Carlos would kick his sorry ass, but Carlos just laughed and shook his head at me, saying we needed to go back up to the bleachers.
Kyle and Amaya were walking towards us, though, hand in hand. What did I see in her? Suddenly, she whispered something in his ear.
"Hey, Adira. You're pretty skinny." Her lips whispered more to him. "And you always wear long sleeves. That's a weird combination, don't you think? Usually people with good figures want to show it off, but you hide it." He was only 10 feet away now. "I've heard some interesting things about you lately."
Where was Carlos? I was tempted to back away until i ran into him, but I stood my ground, staring right into the face of this guy that I used to enjoy being around. Amaya clung onto him like a little slut, telling things that only she knew. She knew what she was doing, but I wasn't going to give her the pride of defeat. I just stood there, staring at Kyle.
"Take off the long sleeves. Roll 'em up a little."
"Why are you always drunk Kyle?"
"Is that any of your damn business? Didn't think so." He quickly moved at me and rolled my sleeve up a little bit.
I smacked his hand away, turning around to see Carlos just standing there. I glared at him, incredulous. "You're just gonna watch?"
He seemed to snap out of his little reverie, and then he apologized while heading back up to the bleachers, away from Kyle and Amaya, who stayed under for the rest of the game. No one but us seemed to have noticed. He called my name as we walked away, but we didn't turn, and he didn't follow.
Carlos wrapped me in one of his comforting hugs and told me it would be alright. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I wanted to purge, but couldn't. I was hungry, yet full, yet so empty and so confused.
At least Carlos's arms felt comforting and familiar.