So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act III, Scene V
June 7, 2002
I kept glancing at the clock, waiting for it to hit 2:52 and ring loudly, signaling the end of my Junior year. Mike was doing the same, though he was also tapping his pencil on the side of his desk, which was rather annoying. We had both finished our US History finals forty minutes ago, and had been silently communicating through exasperated facial expressions since then.
I started putting my things away when there were two minutes left.
I was practically standing at the one minute mark. Mr. Pollard gave me a stern look and I sat back down. Mike sniggered and I shot him a (mock) dirty look.
At thirty seconds, I was on my feet and approximately ten feet from the door.
At the bell, I threw open the door and slung my backpack over my shoulder, hitting Mike in the process. “Jesus, what the fuck do you have in that thing?” he said, pushing me forward so I wasn’t blocking the doorway.
“The contents of my locker,” I answered. “What else?”
“When’d you find time to clean out your locker?”
I shrugged. “During the break between fifth and sixth.”
We turned right at the mouth of the hallway, making our way through the hoard of teenagers toward Mike’s locker. “I should have done that. I still have to empty mine.”
“I’ll help you,” I shrugged again. “It’ll get us out of here faster.”
Mike opened his locker, and to my surprise, it was very untidy. He was a generally neat guy; his room is always clean when I come over – and I don’t mean shove-everything-under-the-bed clean. His locker however…how he managed to find anything in there was beyond me.
Although we had turned in our textbooks the day before, Mike’s locker was still full to the brim with a variety of things including old homework and tests, various sheets of music, a Barrington High banner, two thrift store tee shirts, a beat up pair of Converse, about twenty pens, and a select few photographs – one of which pictured us as freshmen at our first football game.
We both reached for it, our fingertips brushing momentarily. He peeled it from the door and looked at it briefly before handing it to me.
As I looked at it, I remembered everything from that night. The cold October air, the sweat, the hot dogs; everything. I wore braids under a beanie; Mike wore his hair spiked in the fashion every other boy wore. Neither of us had braces, but we flashed our perfectly straight teeth, proud that we went through the torture before high school had started. Everyone around us was enjoying the competition, but you could only see their legs.
It was surprising to see that picture taped to the inside of his locker. Truthfully, I never really forgot about that evening, seeing as I had so much fun, but I had assumed Mike had long forgotten. I smiled and handed the picture back to him. He put it in his backpack, avoiding my gaze.
Using one of the tee shirts he found, Mike wiped down the inside of his locker, littering the hallway with debris. He stuffed the shirt back into his backpack and closed his locker.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I commented. The hallway was deserted by now, the last sounds of slamming lockers echoing from far away. “Now we can get the fuck out of here. Do you want-”
Mike’s lips caught mine mid-question and silenced me for the better. I closed my surprised but nonetheless elated eyes and let my mouth respond to his.
After a few moments (or it could have been a few years – time seemed to go all wonky once we started kissing), we broke apart. I stared at him and he stared back, both of us utterly speechless. I think my mouth must have been open because I found I had to close it before speaking again.
“Mike, what the fuck was that?” I asked, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“I’ve been waiting three years to do that,” he said, breathlessly. He let go of my arms which I guess he had grabbed as we kissed and bent down, grabbing his backpack and quickly slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
I watched as he ran flat-footed down the hallway, and I had to stifle back a laugh. I touched my lips where he had put his and smiled.
After all this time, that’s all I had truly wanted.
I kept glancing at the clock, waiting for it to hit 2:52 and ring loudly, signaling the end of my Junior year. Mike was doing the same, though he was also tapping his pencil on the side of his desk, which was rather annoying. We had both finished our US History finals forty minutes ago, and had been silently communicating through exasperated facial expressions since then.
I started putting my things away when there were two minutes left.
I was practically standing at the one minute mark. Mr. Pollard gave me a stern look and I sat back down. Mike sniggered and I shot him a (mock) dirty look.
At thirty seconds, I was on my feet and approximately ten feet from the door.
At the bell, I threw open the door and slung my backpack over my shoulder, hitting Mike in the process. “Jesus, what the fuck do you have in that thing?” he said, pushing me forward so I wasn’t blocking the doorway.
“The contents of my locker,” I answered. “What else?”
“When’d you find time to clean out your locker?”
I shrugged. “During the break between fifth and sixth.”
We turned right at the mouth of the hallway, making our way through the hoard of teenagers toward Mike’s locker. “I should have done that. I still have to empty mine.”
“I’ll help you,” I shrugged again. “It’ll get us out of here faster.”
Mike opened his locker, and to my surprise, it was very untidy. He was a generally neat guy; his room is always clean when I come over – and I don’t mean shove-everything-under-the-bed clean. His locker however…how he managed to find anything in there was beyond me.
Although we had turned in our textbooks the day before, Mike’s locker was still full to the brim with a variety of things including old homework and tests, various sheets of music, a Barrington High banner, two thrift store tee shirts, a beat up pair of Converse, about twenty pens, and a select few photographs – one of which pictured us as freshmen at our first football game.
We both reached for it, our fingertips brushing momentarily. He peeled it from the door and looked at it briefly before handing it to me.
As I looked at it, I remembered everything from that night. The cold October air, the sweat, the hot dogs; everything. I wore braids under a beanie; Mike wore his hair spiked in the fashion every other boy wore. Neither of us had braces, but we flashed our perfectly straight teeth, proud that we went through the torture before high school had started. Everyone around us was enjoying the competition, but you could only see their legs.
It was surprising to see that picture taped to the inside of his locker. Truthfully, I never really forgot about that evening, seeing as I had so much fun, but I had assumed Mike had long forgotten. I smiled and handed the picture back to him. He put it in his backpack, avoiding my gaze.
Using one of the tee shirts he found, Mike wiped down the inside of his locker, littering the hallway with debris. He stuffed the shirt back into his backpack and closed his locker.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I commented. The hallway was deserted by now, the last sounds of slamming lockers echoing from far away. “Now we can get the fuck out of here. Do you want-”
Mike’s lips caught mine mid-question and silenced me for the better. I closed my surprised but nonetheless elated eyes and let my mouth respond to his.
After a few moments (or it could have been a few years – time seemed to go all wonky once we started kissing), we broke apart. I stared at him and he stared back, both of us utterly speechless. I think my mouth must have been open because I found I had to close it before speaking again.
“Mike, what the fuck was that?” I asked, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“I’ve been waiting three years to do that,” he said, breathlessly. He let go of my arms which I guess he had grabbed as we kissed and bent down, grabbing his backpack and quickly slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
I watched as he ran flat-footed down the hallway, and I had to stifle back a laugh. I touched my lips where he had put his and smiled.
After all this time, that’s all I had truly wanted.