It's Pronounced Mrotek, Baby

Yes, I thought. This was what I lived for. This high, where I felt like floating. This high, was all I needed.

I didn't use all of it, that would be stupid and reckless. I needed this for later, and even though Zach was sharing his house, he wouldn't share anything that I really needed.

I stuffed the bag into my pillowcase, hiding it. He wouldn't look there, would he, if he remembered the things he'd hidden?

I was up all night, listening to my iPod. Trying to drowned out the sounds from downstairs.

It was Monday.

I was still hyped up, my body floating on air.

School.

I found Andy standing by my locker. Well, he had my locker open. How did he do that?

"My locker! What did you do?" I demanded, blocking him from any exit.

"Nothing. Just opened it, looked in it, added to it. Oh, gotta go. The bell." He sung the last bit, skipping away as the bell rang overhead.

That boy..needs a doctor. I entered Math and started my work, finding it easy to concentrate, but hard to stay still. I finished my work quickly, something I don't usually do. I started thinking.

How did Andy get my locker open?

Well, our school was old, as were our lockers. Just hit them hard enough and they open.

Why was he at my locker?

No idea. Wait-could..no. No idea at all.

He was good-looking, in the obvious ways. Perfect smile, soft-looking curly hair, a face that wasn't hard to look at. His style was different, but he could pull it off. If anyone could where a tank top late at night in Wisconsin during the middle of October, Mr. Mrotek was that one.

So, why was he spending all this time around me? He had other friends. Friends who could pull off for whores. Pretty friends. Friends that weren't like me.

The ones that didn't get kicked out of their houses or get arrested or do crack.

The ones that were perfect, or put up a good enough show.

The day passed quickly, my mind wrapped around two things.

Andy and myself.

I went to my locker again, and found him there.

Shouldn't he have left by now?

"Hurry up Tatiiiiiii." His voice rose a few octaves.

"Coming." I slowed down, a smile spreading across my face.

I didn't see it coming, until it was right there. He was right there. I dropped my books, turning in the opposite direction. He caught me up, tossing me over his shoulders. He spun around a few times, ran down a hallway, back up that hallway, then towards my locker. He stopped, and I kicked more.

"I'm sorry, is there something wrong?" He asked, and I could tell he was grinning.

"Yes." I said, and kicked one more time, my foot colliding with his sack of joy. He dropped me, and I landed on my feet. He bent over, in pain.

"Sorry. I don't like getting picked up. It makes me feel shorter than I am." I dusted myself off, and picked up my dropped things.

I opened my locker, and saw a paper wedged between my American History book. I pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and looked at the drawing.

Pencil marks, scratching out the shape of a field, and wind currents. The moon, the darkness, the stars. The teenage girl's form pressed to the backdrop. His name signing the bottom of the page.

"Ah, thanks Mrotek. Its pretty." I folded the paper again, and put it in my back pocket. So I lied, the drawing was magnificent. A true work of art. A musician and an artist.

He grinned, his face pale. I didn't mean to kick him that hard. Finally, he straightened and offered me a ride to Zach's, since it was farther away than my house.

We started walking, and before we got inside the confinements of the car, I said
"Have I ever told you I think your sex on legs?"

He didn't answer. He didn't blink.

I laughed once, a soft chuckle, before sliding into the car.