Tomato

August 17, 2008 at 9:30 pm (Digital, Painting, Visual Art) (, , )

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Sonnet 25 – Perfect Date

July 31, 2008 at 2:30 am (Poetry, Sonnet, Sonnet Cycle, Writing) (, , , )

With prepaid card (a graduation gift)
in hand, I catch the swinging door for you.
We sit together at our booth for two,
and compromise between our tastes and thrift.
I’m never wealthy; you don’t seem to mind.
We tell the waitress that we’d like to share,
and as we wait, we hope no one will stare
at us, the happy pair at table nine.
You hold my hand beneath the table while
we split our little steak in equal parts.
You end up eating mine, but it’s okay;
I ate your potatoes. I see you smile,
and suddenly I can’t control my heart;
I’m smiling, too… It’s such a perfect date!

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Caramel

June 29, 2008 at 1:19 am (Abstract, Photography, Visual Art) (, , , , )

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Salt and Pepper

April 26, 2008 at 12:44 pm (Objects, Photography, Visual Art) ()

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Go Green

March 28, 2008 at 5:10 pm (Collage, Visual Art) (, , , )

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Taco Night

November 7, 2007 at 10:23 pm (Misc. Fixed, Poetry, Reflections: Magic of Love, Writing) (, , )

Seven o’clock
is coming around;
meanwhile, my stomach
continues to growl.
It needs some food,
and needs it fast!
Or else I simply
may not last!
So trudge upstairs
toward the smell
of a freshly cooked
taco shell.

It’s taco night.

My sis comes in
with stomp and scowl,
and thus, we have
tomatoes now.
She picks them fresh
from our back yard,
a job she’d rather
disregard,
but still she’s forced
to pick those things.
I’m glad for the
reward it brings.

It’s taco night.

We all sit down
when things are chopped.
Before we eat,
we all must stop
and bow our heads
and thank the Lord
for all the blessings,
room and board.
And even though
the smell is strong,
my stomach aches,
the wait is long…

It’s taco night.

Amen.

Yum.

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Dear Diary – Chapter 5

August 5, 2007 at 4:45 pm (Novel, Prose, Writing) (, , , , )

There was a knock at Jace Valentine’s bedroom door. “Come in,” Jace called from his cross-legged position on the floor in front of the Xbox. The door slipped open and Ashley Simmons took a step inside. Jace paused the game. “Ashley! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were doing,” she said honestly, “but it looks like you’re just fine.” She eyed his arm, still in the cast but obviously healed and moving with ease.

He looked at it too, and struggled for words. Uniformed football stars stared down at him from the walls. “Uh… yeah, the doctors said I healed really fast. It wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone thought it was.”

“So you can come back to school?”

He hesitated. “Well, it’s still not strong enough for football.”

She made a face. “So football is the only reason for you to go to school?”

He didn’t see the issue. “Yeah…”

She sighed and flopped down on the bed. Jace sat beside her. An image of a car exploding was frozen on the television screen. “Jace, what do you plan on doing after we graduate?”

“Well,” he began, “I was planning on getting a football scholarship somewhere, before that piece of junk Ender ruined the season for me.”

“And now?”

“I’m hoping I can do well enough next year that they’ll overlook this season.”

“What if they don’t? What if you can’t get a sports scholarship? Then what?”

He scoffed. “Hey, don’t worry about that. Why are you asking about it anyway?” He stretched his arm around her shoulders. His fingers curled around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She twisted away, arms folded across her chest. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Jace asked, looking offended.

“Jace, what are we doing?” Despite Jace’s lack of sense, her tone got the message across. His face drooped as she continued. “All you care about is football.”

“That’s not true,” he defended. “I care about you, baby…”

“Then why don’t you come to school?!” The words burst from her mouth a little more forcefully than she intended. “I never see you anymore. Have you just been sitting here playing video games since the accident?”

“No, I’ve been… resting, too…” he muttered.

“You couldn’t even let me know you were better?”

“Well…”

“You might have been hurt but it only takes one hand to talk on the phone or knock on my door.”

“Ashley…” He stood up, obviously exasperated. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I’m just trying to take it easy and get better so I can go back and save the team from taking last place. If you didn’t come over here to be my girlfriend, then don’t be here.”

Ashley gasped. She stood to glare into his eyes, although she was a good six inches shorter than him. “You can’t be serious! ‘To be your girlfriend’? What am I, your property or something?”

Jace forced a laugh. “Of course not! Stop being ridiculous, Ashley.”

Me stop being ridiculous?” she flared. “Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth? What is your problem?”

I don’t have a problem!” Jace retorted. “It’s you who always makes a big deal out of everything! Why’s everything always have to be so important?!”

Ashley took a long breath and sat down on the bed. It squeaked beneath her. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you must.”

Her eyes, wide and brown and glittering with emotion, met his, still hard and defensive. “Why are we together?”

Jace took a long time to reply. His expression didn’t change much, but his voice was softer when he finally spoke, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

She looked into her lap and exhaled slowly. When she looked back up, she had determination set in her eyebrows and jaw. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Jace. There’s no reason for any of it. It’s pointless. We’re over. Okay?”

For what seemed like minutes, Jace stood, a vacant expression on his flat face. Ashley wondered if he’d heard her in the first place, or perhaps if he had suddenly lost his ability to comprehend the English language. She figured it would happen one day. But then he hissed, “No.”

“Excuse me?” She stood.

He looked at her now, fire in his eyes. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

The absurdity of the situation brought a chuckle to her lips. “How exactly does that work? I can leave you anytime I want to. And I just did.”

With one sweeping forward motion, Jace tore off his sling, grabbed her wrists, lifted them above her head, and pressed her back against the wall, hard. A picture frame fell from its place and cracked on the floor. Ashley yelped. She wanted someone downstairs to hear her, but she knew Jace’s mom, the only one home, was hard-of-hearing and watching television in the front room with the volume at nearly maximum. She tried to squirm away, but he had a strong grip. His face was only inches from hers.

“Jace!” she screamed. “Let me go! Right now!”

He leaned in. She felt his thick, dry lips on hers. Once she had loved his kiss, but now, it repulsed her, and she tightened up, squeezed herself against the wall as hard as she could to get away from him. Her mouth was shut tightly, and although he tried to open it, she refused. After a moment, he leaned back and fumed.

Ashley glared into his eyes, jumping from one to the other. “It’s over, Jace.”

Enraged, he threw her to the side. She hit the floor, knocking her head against the frame of his bed. She saw stars, and felt a sharp pain in her left arm. As she waited for her vision to clear, Jace picked her up again with ease and threw her onto the bed. “It’s not over until I say it is!” he roared. “You will be my girlfriend for as long as I want you to, understand?!”

She could again see his veins bursting and his red face, and she looked at her arm. Blood was oozing from a deep cut. A steak knife, tipped in crimson, previously on the floor and resting on a forgotten plate, now lay on the bed next to her. Looking at it made the agonizing sensation ripple through her arm and chest and head, almost made her lose sight again. She stifled a scream.

The anger had left Jace. Now he stood, like a werewolf that had changed back just a moment too late. He saw what he’d done. “Baby…” he cooed. “Ashley… Oh my… No… Ashley, I… Not again…” He came forward, sat on the bed gently, and tried to get close to her. Ashley scrambled to back away into the corner, eyes open wide and face pale. “I didn’t… mean to… It won’t happen any more, I…”

“That’s right. This is the last time.” Pressing hard on her wound to stop the blood, Ashley crawled away from him, always with her eyes glued to him and ready to jump at any movement. She stood from the bed, backed toward the door, opened it, and backed out of the room, and out of Jace Valentine’s life forever.

Jace returned to his Xbox.

Ashley wore long sleeves for the rest of the month.

My phone rang. It startled me – I was trying to concentrate on my algebra homework, which I didn’t get in the least. I had even turned off my music to think, which was why the shrill ring tone was so loud and unexpected. After taking a deep breath and calming myself down, I carefully stepped over piles to get to the phone, and I picked it up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Alex?”

It was Ashley again. I froze. I thought of Ender, wondered if he was somehow watching me, or listening in on the phone. I almost just hung up right then. But I could tell something was wrong with her. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

She didn’t say anything. The line was completely quiet.

“Ashley. Are you there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

More silence. I waited for a reply. I wondered if I should say more, but worried that at the same time I opened my mouth, she would start to talk, so I was patient. I kept my eyes on the clock. I watched the seconds pass by. All the while, she said nothing. My ear started to hurt, so I quickly switched, eager not to miss a word. For ten more seconds, nothing happened.

She made a noise, the beginning of a word, but she stopped. Then I heard a click.

“So.” Chloe and I were at the usual table, eating the usual (or unusual, in her case) food. “Got any more mysterious threats from that homicidal freak?”

I shook my head and munched a fry. “Nope.”

“Think we should tell anyone about it?” Today’s special was fish chunks and baked beans, in the same container. She scooped it up and downed it like it was breakfast cereal.

“He’s supposed to be in jail,” I said, more to myself than Chloe. “How the heck did he get that message into my locker?”

“Maybe he got one of his buddies to do it for him?”

What buddies?”

“Good point.”

“He must have thought those flowers were from me, just like Ashley did,” I theorized. “But how did he even know about those in the first place? It’s not like he was around.”

She shrugged and tipped her bowl to drink the last of her meal.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.”

When the bowl and her mouth were empty, she said, “She got another bouquet.”

“Really? Probably from the same guy, right?”

“Definitely,” she nodded. “This time, there was a note.”

“What did it say?”

“There was one less flower than last time, apparently.” She looked up, trying to remember. “The note went something like, ‘When a single bloom remains, there also will your true love be.’”

“Wow. That’s pretty cheesy,” I chuckled. “How many flowers were there this time?”

“Six. If you ask me, it sounds like she’s getting asked to the Winter Ball.”

I hadn’t thought of that. And the fact that these flowers could mean nothing more calmed me down. Ashley was quite popular, after all. What guy didn’t want to ask her to the Winter Ball? And despite her recent state (which seemed to be increasingly negative), I still heard boys whisper about her in class and after school, and even out shopping and at restaurants. But even so, if Ender was still under the impression that I was the one delivering them… he wouldn’t be happy about it, and, according to his note, I’d be the next one with a bullet in my arm. For a moment I pondered the possibility that I actually was the one delivering the flowers, but my memory was somehow incomplete. But that was sci-fi stuff. It didn’t happen in real life. Did it?

“Is it possible that I really am the one delivering the flowers, and I don’t know it?” I asked Chloe.

She gave me a serious look. “Crap. You weren’t supposed to find out.”

“…What?”

She sighed and gravely put down her carbonated pickle juice. “I’ve been secretly controlling your brain for the past two weeks. I hoped you wouldn’t figure it out.”

Then she smiled, and we both laughed.

Yeah. Stupid idea.

That was when she casually mentioned: “Did you know that Ashley broke up with Jace?”

I nearly spit my milk across the table. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Yup. Three days ago. She went over to his house and dumped him.”

I was amazed. “How is it that you know these things, Chloe?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” she confessed, taking another swig of pickle juice. “People tell me things, I overhear things… and it helps to have the entirety of the girls’ bathroom stalls memorized so whenever a new sketch shows up, I know about it.” I couldn’t tell whether or not she was joking.

But it was great news. And not just for me. I looked over at her spot in the cafeteria. Again, there she sat, this time sleeping, head in arms, an entire tray of uneaten food pushed aside. She was slowly falling apart. And now that Jace was out of the picture… maybe there’d be room for me. And I knew exactly what I’d do; I’d show her how she deserved to be treated.

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Dear Diary – Chapter 4

July 24, 2007 at 4:43 pm (Novel, Prose, Writing) (, , , )

“So, I noticed Ashley’s been avoiding you.”

That was Chloe Tyler. She was taller than I was, and almost as skinny. Her hair was this long, straight sheet that always seemed to catch the light just the right way to make it sparkle a brilliant amber color. She was on the girls’ basketball team, but you wouldn’t know it just by looking at her. When she wasn’t on the court, she wore nothing remotely athletic, and was never seen around the other basketball girls the way the others stuck together. And she always had this spacey look in her eyes, like she was always imagining herself somewhere else. She was beautiful, to boot. She had a few classes with me, and I remembered thinking of her as very attractive, even though I was preoccupied with Ashley. I suppose that’s what made it not-so-strange when, as I was eating lunch inside alone (it was another stormy day), she set her tray down at the seat across from me and said, “Ashley looks pretty down, huh?” one day soon after the shooting. It was almost like I expected her to do something out of the ordinary like that.

“Yeah,” I’d told her honestly, as we both looked over at the spot where she sat. She was alone too. Usually she had a small gaggle of friends around her, but not after the shooting. She was picking at her peas absent-mindedly. “I can’t blame her.”

“No kidding,” Chloe had said. “Your boyfriend getting shot is kind of traumatic.” Then she added, “Just think, if you’d tackled Ender a second earlier, it wouldn’t have happened.”

I felt a pang of guilt. “I know. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“But the thing is, it did happen.” I wondered where she was going with this. “And if it hadn’t, Ashley wouldn’t be sitting there by herself. Jace would be there with her.”

I gave her a puzzled look. “So…”

She grinned. I was dazzled by her perfect smile. “Just let me say, sometimes, things aren’t always what they seem.”

I had no idea what she meant by that, but I accepted it all the same.

“For instance,” she continued. “You don’t seem to like Ashley, but I know you do.”

I nearly choked on my French fry. How did she know? I hadn’t told anyone, and I’d been careful to avoid being obvious about it.

She laughed at me. Again, her smile was incredible. “It’s actually not that hard to see. You can try to hide it all you want, but the more you try, the more awkward it seems to everyone else. Once you get feelings for somebody, it’s nearly impossible to hide.”

So the word was out that I had a crush on Jace Valentine’s girlfriend. Great. Just what I needed. But Chloe didn’t make that big of a deal about it. And I figured she was probably one of the only ones who knew. She did seem to have extraordinary perception. And besides, who paid attention to the workings of Alex Winters’ love life? No one even knew my name at that school. Not yet, anyway.

The thing she’d said about things not being what they seem stayed with me ever since that first strange meeting. Afterwards, we formally introduced ourselves and had a chatted casually until the bell rang. It turned out, she didn’t really have any close friends either. Everyone was chased away by what she called her “eccentricities.” I took it to mean that spacey look in her eyes and the way she always seemed to be able to read my mind. That and the fact that she replaced the jelly in her PB&J sandwich with hot sauce. But I didn’t mind. In fact, it was strangely endearing. She seemed to have no walls whatsoever around anything in her life. She was completely open with me and talked to me like we’d been best friends since middle school. It wasn’t as disturbing as you might have thought.

It wasn’t long until we really were best friends, albeit of an unusual sort. We didn’t see each other much outside of school, but during school, we spent a lot of time together. We had more classes together than I’d thought, and in classes with more lenient teachers, we’d changed seats to be by each other. It made the days much easier to get through.

Now we were sitting at lunch once again, me with my usual French fries and her with an avocado- and orange-topped piece of chocolate cake (she called it “chocolate fruitcake”), and she pointed out, “So, I noticed Ashley’s been avoiding you.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Usually she waves back when I wave in the halls, but not since what happened after the choir concert.”

When I’d told her about what had happened the very next day, she said she already knew. I was surprised when she admitted that Tommy Watts, the frightfully scrawny boy from health class with the gauged ears, had seen us from inside. That wouldn’t have mattered if Alicia Talantar, self-proclaimed Gossip Queen, hadn’t overheard him mentioning it in passing to his buddies. Unfortunately, Alicia hadn’t heard all the details, so now the word on the street was that we’d full-on made out. In some versions, we’d gone home together. It wasn’t looking good. I hated high school.

“Well, from a girl’s point of view,” Chloe said, gulping down a piece of her horrid concoction, “I’d say that she’s trying to live it down. I mean, you’ve heard what everyone’s been saying, right?”

I nodded. Of course I had.

“She was caught ‘making out’ with you, when she’s already got Jace. I’m sure he’s upset enough as it is, and now you two are the talk of the town. She’s gotta keep clear of you until this thing dies down so people don’t get any more ideas.”

I looked back at Ashley again. For a second, I thought she glanced up at me, but before I could tell whether it had really happened or not, she was back to poking her peas. I cursed myself for what I’d done. If I hadn’t gone after her after the concert, she wouldn’t be looking so down. And, I remembered once more with chagrin, if I’d tackled Ender a second earlier, she’d still be happy, surrounded by friends. I only wanted to make her happy, and I only made it all worse. I was a curse.

*

Mr. Salazar had gone home for an emergency, and there was no time to find a substitute, so his algebra class was to be combined with Mrs. Brown’s advanced class. As Chloe and I crowded into the back of the classroom, I noticed a small bouquet of white flowers sitting on one of the desks. I was curious, but as the room filled up with kids, no one sat there. The kids on either side of the desk looked for a card, but there was none. The tardy bell rang, and still, no one sat in that chair. Mrs. Brown stood to begin her lecture. Then the door squeaked open, and a sullen-faced Ashley shuffled in. I remembered the first day in biology where I first saw her, and how much she’d changed. Instead of looking tan and healthy, she looked pale and sickly. She no longer smiled at everyone with confidence, but kept staring at the floor, hunched over, almost dragging her bag behind her. She hurried across the room to avoid the stares. A few kids whispered and giggled, and I knew she heard what they were saying. I felt so bad for her. And again I was reminded it was all my fault.

The flowers were on her desk. When she saw them lying there, she hesitated to even approach them. When she sat down, she just looked at them, surprised and confused. There were more whispers. Finally, she grabbed the bouquet by the stems, the stiff plastic wrapping crunching loudly, smelled them once, and set them beneath her chair.

I thought they must be from Jace. Maybe he was apologizing for being a jerk, like she’d told me about. I wondered why he didn’t leave a card, though. I saw someone look back at me suspiciously. They thought I must have done it. Chloe actually leaned over and asked me if those flowers were from me.

I shook my head. “No. I have no idea who they’re from.”

“Bet you it’s Willy,” she joked. Willy was the super-nerd a few math classes up who recently had taken a shine – more of an obsession – to Ashley. He was convinced that the stars told him they were a perfect match. No matter how many times Ashley tiredly explained that she already had a boyfriend, he kept trying to ask her out.

I laughed. It was likely. Still, even if they were from Willy, they would have had some kind of card with them. Mrs. Brown began her lesson, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was still watching Ashley, head on her arms, blocking out the light and sound around her, and thinking about the mysterious flowers.

*

That night, I sat down with my guitar to think. I’d let my calluses weaken over the past few months because of various factors that kept me from my guitar, so now my fingertips hurt a bit when I pressed down on the strings. It was satisfying to feel the familiar curves of the instrument under my arms, though. It felt like hugging an old friend after being away for a long time, or slipping into a favorite jacket after dying to wear it all summer long.

As I strummed out the opening riffs to a milder version of “Don’t Wait” by Dashboard Confessional, my mind wandered back over everything that had happened over the past week and a half since Ender shot Jace. Ashley’s life had gone from good to bad that quickly, and it hadn’t taken long for it to show. I wondered what Ashley meant when she’d talked about Jace being a jerk. Was he hurting her? I hoped not. I didn’t imagine a cripple would really be able to hurt her too badly. But then again, he still had his left arm. Actually, he should have been back in school by that time, but I’d heard that his parents were keeping him home until he fully recovered. They were with him on the whole football obsession, apparently – if their son couldn’t play football, then what was the point of sending him to school? I wished my parents were that cool. It didn’t seem fair that Jace had not only the girl, but the cool parents as well. Maybe he deserved to be shot. Karma, and all that.

The sky glows

I see it shining when my eyes close

I hear your warnings but we both know

I’m gonna look at it again.

That got me thinking about Ender, and what must have been going through his mind right before he pulled the gun. A lot of anger, obviously. But anger, they say, is a secondary emotion, a reaction caused my some other emotional stimulus. He was jealous. He was probably scared. He was lonely. Even the kids who’d known Kadmus didn’t know much about him, other than he liked to draw. It seemed like that was all he ever did. His life was in that sketchbook. I knew what that felt like, to put your life into something. It was a lot easier to do than actually living. After I lost contact with Becky… I’d put my life into my guitar. Ender and I really weren’t so different.

Don’t wait, don’t wait

The road is now a sudden sea

And suddenly, it’s deep enough

To let your armor down

To let your armor down

To let your armor down.

As if on cue, the phone rang, loud and shrill. I stopped playing and just stared at it for a moment, suddenly scared of who might be on the other end. It rang again. I carefully set down my guitar and walked over to it. I didn’t have caller ID in my room, but decided to answer anyway. It could have been Chloe calling to ask a question about homework, or Jessica calling from college to catch up with Mom.

“Hello, is this Alex? Winters?”

The last voice I expected to hear on the other end was Ashley’s.

My heart sped up, like it always did. I worried that she could hear it over the phone. It sounded very quiet over at her house, or wherever she was. She was barely more than whispering. Immediately I thought something must have been very wrong. “Yeah,” I say, as casually as possible, Chloe’s voice in the back of my head, repeating, “the more you try to hide it, the more awkward it seems to everyone else…” “What’s going on?”

“Um… This is Ashley,” she began. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For… Monday night,” she admitted. The next part came in a rush. “I mean, what happened after the concert, how I… kissed you. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened, you know…”

I had to strain to understand everything she said. Her voice didn’t sound so good, like she’d been yelling a lot. Or, maybe it was like Ender’s voice – it was getting hoarse from disuse. That thought frightened me. “Yeah…” was all I could think of to say.

“I was just having a really bad day, and you were there, and I just… lost it, I guess. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for leading you on, because…” she paused. I braced myself. “I… don’t even know you, you know? I barely learned your name…”

I nodded. When I realized she couldn’t see me, I repeated, “Yeah,” quietly into the phone.

“So… that’s all I wanted to say,” she confessed with finality. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I wanted to know how she’d been and how Jace was doing (even though I wasn’t happy about the idea of him being her boyfriend instead of me, I knew she still cared about him and I wondered how she felt about the whole thing). I wanted to apologize for the things that people had been saying about the two of us. To be honest, I wanted to ask her if she’d like to go grab some dinner and a movie with me on Saturday night, but I didn’t say any of this to her. Instead, I just listened to be buzz of static quiet from her end of the phone.

“But thank you for the flowers.”

“I didn’t… do those.”

She paused. “It wasn’t you?”

“No,” I told her honestly. I left out the part where I wished it was.

She didn’t say anything after that, except that she had to go, and I heard the connection end. That was it; it was over. Like the kiss, I’d always wanted her to call me, but it didn’t feel as good as I’d thought it would. Instead of me giving my number to her, she’d probably found it in the student directory. And she didn’t call to try to convince me to ask her out, she’d called to apologize for the other thing I’d always wished she’d do, and to thank me for the first gift I hadn’t actually given her.

So far, a lot of firsts were being ruined by my stupid mistakes.

I picked my guitar back up and kept playing.

Well, you get one look

I’ll show you something that the knife took

A bit too early for my own good

Now let’s not speak of it again.

*

Chloe and I approached my locker, both in fantastic moods, considering everything that had been going on, following our regular morning routine before first period. We were talking about the movie she’d just gone to see the night before. It was an intense thriller, and I’d been wanting to see it, but she kept spoiling bits of the plot for me. I hummed defiantly as she tried to tell me who died next and I worked with the combination lock.

When I opened it, we both stopped.

On a thick sheet of white art paper that looked like it was torn from a spiral binding, a message was scrawled in red ink.

Stay away from her, or I’ll have to shoot you too.

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Dear Diary – Chapter 2

July 18, 2007 at 4:39 pm (Novel, Prose, Writing) (, , , )

The next big event happened a few months later, on a Wednesday in November. Nothing out of the ordinary that day. I was working my black jeans, I had on my favorite blue striped shirt, my scarf was wrapped around my neck, and I was dodging the usual glances as I made my way from the cafeteria to the wide double doors at the end of the hallway so I could eat my lunch and study outside, where it was quiet and relatively peaceful. Lonely, sure, but I didn’t mind so much. The couple of weeks before that day had been kind of hard on me – the first quarter of school was already wrapping up, and with it came the usual tests, and thus, the usual studying – not one of my favorite activities, but necessary nonetheless. That is, if I wanted to scrape into college someday.

But when I got to the doors, my plans changed. Outside, it was pitch black and raining cats and dogs. I never thought that was a very accurate expression, and it was rather gruesome at that, but that didn’t change the fact that the rain was coming down at a thirty degree angle with the ground, and I thought I saw some hail mixed in. A lightning bolt illuminated the sky and I saw one of the school’s trees lying in the middle of the street. Normally, I’d have been excited about the rain, but this was just too strong to enjoy. With a sigh, I turned around and made for the cafeteria once more.

Finding a seat when you don’t have a regular spot is a tough thing to do. Anywhere you sit is the wrong place, because you’re always taking someone else’s spot. If they’re polite enough not to chew you out for it, they’re forced to steal someone else’s spot, and so on, until someone is invariably left with nowhere to lunch. So, I bypassed the whole thing and scoped out a loner, someone who constantly had five or six seats at his or her command. No one else sat there because they didn’t want to be grouped with said loner, but hey – I was a loner too, right? No harm to me.

The first kid I found was hunkered down over a book at the end of a table. As I got nearer, I recognized him as the artist kid I’d sat next to in biology on the first day of school, again scribbling furiously in his sketchbook.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, trying to be polite.

He looked up at me for a second, then went back to his drawing. For someone who talked as little as him, that meant yes, or at least that he didn’t care. I set my tray down on the table and crashed onto a chair. I didn’t try to make conversation with the boy – I knew it would be a futile attempt, and probably annoying to him as well. Besides, I was fine being left alone with my thoughts. Thoughts about the tests, thoughts about the rain, and, of course, thoughts about Ashley…

I’d never been one to snoop or stalk, but I’d asked around about Ashley a bit, just to find out more about her. I now knew that she was a first soprano in choir, and apparently she had a big solo in the next concert. She was taking all the AP and honors classes, which explained why I didn’t see her around much. And, one of the first things I’d found out was that she already had a boyfriend. I had to admit, that fact wasn’t as surprising as it could have been. I had actually expected it. But, try as I might, there seemed to be no stopping the thoughts about her. There was something about her that drew me in and wouldn’t let go. It could have been her waist, or her hair, perhaps, but maybe there was something a bit deeper than that…

As I put the fry I had in my fingers to my mouth, my eyes strayed onto the artist kid’s page. It was a miracle I didn’t see it sooner. The lines had been drawn so darkly on the page that every detail stood out in sharp contrast, and I instantly knew what it was. I had to hand it to young… what’s-his-name… he was good, but I wasn’t so sure I was entirely thrilled about his subject matter. It was a livid depiction of a warrior, dressed in full armor and wielding twin curved blades, massacring a crowd of unarmed people. Blood was everywhere, and that was what made the picture so dark. Women, children, a dog, even – all of them being brutally hacked apart by this death machine. I looked up from the page at the boy’s face. A drop of sweat was forming on his brow, his eyes were wide open, and his lips had gone dry. His knuckles had gone white because he was gripping his pencil so hard, and his other hand was almost convulsing, every muscle tense and restless. He was in some kind of homicidal trance. I pushed myself away from the table a few inches and tried not to care.

But that was when I saw the glint of black metal from inside his backpack. Suddenly I found it hard to be apathetic about the whole thing.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to do anything. At that moment, Jace Valentine, football star, walked through the nearest doorway with a few of his buddies, laughing. He was a big guy, muscular, with short-cropped hair and good teeth. He was also Ashley Simmons’ boyfriend. The artist kid – Ken…something? – stood up stiffly and gripped his backpack. His sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. Before I knew what was happening, he strutted up to Jace, a determined fire in his eyes. I stood up too, expecting the worst. “What’s the problem?” Jace spat. Without a word, the artist boy reached into his bag, grabbed, and pulled out a shiny black pistol, cocked and ready to fire straight between Jace’s eyes.

All hell broke loose. A dozen girls who had been standing nearby all screamed and made for the doors as quickly as possible. After that, half of everyone in the lunchroom followed suit. The other half stayed, either frozen with fear, or curious and intrigued. I was part of the latter half. I was the one standing closest to the kid with the gun. Jace’s two friends backed away slowly. Jace froze where he was, never looking so vulnerable and weak. The boy with the gun smiled, his face alive with adrenalin and satisfaction at seeing this worm’s confidence melt away in a mere second.

“Hey… hey… don’t… look, uh…” Jace stuttered.

“Shut up,” the boy spat, his voice even raspier than the last time I’d heard it. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Jace, trying to be accommodating, twitched his head back and forth in the tiniest of “no”s.

“Do you know about justice, Jace Valentine? Since sixth grade, since the beginning of middle school, you’ve always been the one on top. You’ve always had the friends, the cars, the money… the girls. Somewhere down the line, I was designated as the loser, the trash kid, the worthless worm, the scum. Tell me, is this justice? It wasn’t you who decided it. Not you alone. But let me tell you-” He took a sudden step forward, pressing the gun against Jace’s forehead. Jace flinched and whimpered as the boy continued his monologue. “My life has been a living hell because of you and people like you! I’m not going to kill you,” (at these words, Jace’s shoulders relaxed noticeably,) “but there are other ways that justice can be satisfied. Yes, this… is justice!” His voice was little more than a seething stream of air through his clenched teeth, but everyone could hear his speech echo around the room. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, glittering with vengeance. Slowly, he stepped backward and aimed the gun lower. He was only three feet from where I stood. The cafeteria lights reflected off the barrel. I could almost see my own frightened face in it. I saw his finger muscles tense, tightening on the trigger. In the silence, it clicked with each millimeter it moved. Jace closed his eyes. The boy’s finger pressed tighter and tighter, every click of the gun a prelude to a gunshot.

Then the power went out. We were all plunged into darkness, and a shot was fired.

All at once, I leapt forward, without fully realizing what I was doing. I tackled the boy at the very instant he fired the gun. We crashed to the floor, and the gun clattered across the tile, safely out of reach. Jace also hit the floor. I could barely make out the edges of his form in the dim light. He clutched his right arm. Blood was streaming over his hand, onto his shirt, and onto the floor. He made a strange moaning sound. The boy underneath me tried to punch me but missed because he was shaking so badly. He grabbed at my scarf and pulled. It wrapped uncomfortably tighter around my neck. I wondered if he was having a seizure or heart attack.

What happened next was all a blur. I remember a group of about ten teachers arriving on the scene and carrying the boy away. As he was being dragged from the room, he screamed back, “Let’s see you play your precious football now!” Another teacher took me roughly by the arm and led me out as well. Jace was taken to the sick room to wait for the ambulance. The next thing I remember was waiting in the principal’s office to be questioned by the school administration and the police. The boy who had fired the shot was in there now, and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing much more of him. The lights had come back on. I felt nauseous, and my arms and legs were both asleep. I was hunched over myself, clutching my stomach, trying to breathe regularly. I faintly heard the door open and shut, and then someone asked, “Is Jace still here?”

I looked up. It was Ashley, pale-faced and breathing hard. It looked like she’d ran all the way there. “No,” said the kindly secretary, “he’s already been taken to the hospital. Have a seat, dear. He’s going to be just fine.”

She turned and collapsed next to me. I felt too sick to be nervous or excited. “What happened?” she asked urgently.

The secretary sighed. “Another student pulled a gun on him and shot him once in the arm.” Ashley gasped, but the secretary continued, sounding as if she were assuring herself more than Ashley, “It wasn’t a bad wound, they think he’ll be fine in a few weeks, there’s no need to worry…”

“No need to worry?” Ashley breathed, struggling to accept this new information. Her accent was stronger now. “My boyfriend’s… been shot! Who did it?”

The secretary shook her head. “I don’t know, dear, I wasn’t there. But this young man,” she turned to me, “was.”

Ashley looked at me, and I looked at her. For an instant, her eyes were a deep well of emotion, filled to the top with fear and questions. She looked younger and innocent, like a child scared of a thunderstorm, and she was looking to me for comfort, for answers. “Is he… really going to be okay?” she asked quietly.

It took me a moment to regain control of my muscles. Finally, I nodded. “Yes. He… I mean, he wasn’t hurt too bad.” That was a fact I had no assurance of, but it seemed like the right thing to say. My head was swimming with fog anyway, and I couldn’t think straight. “I mean, it was just… his arm, it could have been a lot worse, you know…”

For a moment, I wanted to tell her about what I’d done to try to save the day, but as I watched her bury her head in her hands, as I watched her shoulders start to shake, there were no words left in me. The lights suddenly went out again. I wanted to put a comforting hand on her back or her shoulder, but all I could do was sit straight forward in my chair, staring at the black point where the ends of my scarf were, trying not to throw up or start crying myself.

As I listened, I wanted Ashley to be mine, so she wouldn’t have to cry alone.

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