Prompt: "Day 2 —Tell about a character who lost something important to him/her."
My hand aches.
A smirk.
Not from anything dirty mind you - it's a creative pain borne from my intensive drawing session late last night. I sound like an arse.
Just a quick and secret nod.
You think I should focus on something else?
Another nod.
I wouldn't worry so much; Mrs. Lemaire is hardly paying attention to us.
Glancing over I notice that her face is still turned towards the ancient chalkboard, scribbling some nonsense that would probably be used in our homework tonight. The words look like scrawls, too small to see from the back of the classroom and too illegible to read at the front of the row. But we were all responsible for turning in an assignment that met those parameters. Whatever those parameters were.
It's so hot in here; how do I dare think of anything else? Either I am in pain or I am in discomfort. Sometimes pain wins out because if I jerk my hand just so... it throbs. Sometimes the heat gets to me as I can feel that tragic wetness building, saturating my shirt. O.K. I don't actually sweat that bad, but it's a furnace in the middle of summer. Mrs. Lemaire is always cold.
Must be another one of those apocalypses of being old.
A laugh this time, strained and choked. Mrs. Lemaire pauses as if sensing our naughty departure from education.
Yeah, yeah, I'll try to be more careful. What are you doing for lunch?
The bell rings, liberating us. Without much thought I snatch up my backpack and scurry out of the classroom among the other rats. Pleasantly the hallway is slightly cooler, enough to make a difference and I wait. You're always the last one out. Smiling you come, hungry you are and so am I. "Did you sleep well last night? You have bags under your eyes." An awkward shy smile.
I know. I know I know I know. Taking your hand in mine I drag you to our spot, our secret spot. It's beautiful outside - a terrible misfortune I am wearing jeans. Making sure no one sees us I duck in, you following after and I'll know what you'll think: I love it here. Because I do too. It's definitely much cooler here in the shade.
I toss down my hoodie for you to sit on which you accept with a little guilt. For the most part I'll ignore it because you look so adorable when you make that face. Which elicits another blush. "So, this is what I drew last night." I know you want to look, I know you've been curious ever since I mentioned it. With cautious and patient hands you turn the pages and diligently, I watch you linger. Almost as if you were consumed by some masterpiece, you are silent and in awe. That makes me happy - though they are still crappy drawings. In any case, they make you smile. You turn the page. She lifts it to me and points to it, I know. You think it's cute, don't you? I knew you would and so I drew it. We continue on like this.
When we remember it's lunch I pull out some sack lunch my dad had made. Rare. He normally is so busy with work he doesn't bother but I am pleased and appreciative - he's a far better cook than my mom. It's some pasta with a sauce I can't quite figure out, a small bunch of grapes, some soup in a thermos and lastly, a cookie from his batch of peanut butter cookies. I hate them, but you love them. "You have a cookie," you say softly.
"Of course I do. It's for you." You wrap your lips around the smallest bite ever and gently suck out the flavor. Like a little vampire. I pour out some soup for you - looks like tomato. Hope it doesn't burn. Switching over you daintily sip from the cap and I dig into my pasta. It must not have burned a lot because you eagerly ask me if you could just have another sip. "Go ahead. It's a big lunch." I'm glad that my small appetite has come in handy. Slowly, we talk. It's almost like an exercise for you. Slowly, we take it slowly.
Then we stop. You look like you're in pain. I hand you my water and pull you to my side. An arm by your side I take another bite out of my pasta. It's delicious, a little on the cold side but nice. It cools me down just enough to enjoy this day. You smell nice. "I'll bring you lunch." There's no reason to argue except to see how eagerly you want to. It worries me but I can't get past that side of you - you've already decided.
Lunch will end soon. I lay back and pull you onto my chest. It's such a nice day. If you weren't such a goody two shoes I'd suggest we skip class. Actually. You're soft, pleasant and just perfect in every little way. Somehow, that's possible. "Want to skip class?" I see it in your eyes, you want, you really do, but your moral compass gets in the way. Not sure that it's possible to feel so guilty for skipping class. So instead, I'll take advantage as you sit up, alarmed that the bell is ringing. You taste nice, smooth. Maybe I'll sneak another kiss. And another. I could have fallen asleep. You urge me, tugging on my shirt in that cute annoying way and I come, I have to. Seeing you off to another class I wonder what you'll be doing as I rot in math.
When I finally see you as the assembly starts I'm annoyed that we have to sit in our classes. Ignoring this I sit as close to you as possible asking some people to make trades. They all know. We stand on the bleachers of our small gym and listen to the anthem, our beloved anthem and you grasp my hand tightly, longingly. I embrace you for a small moment before one of the curtly chaperones decides that there wasn't enough room for Jesus and rudely mouths to me to separate. Some people are such prudes. If hugs meant anything terrible I'd be damned for an eternity.
After school, we're lucky. It's a nice Friday and I have a pass to board your bus. It's rowdy, not as bad as mine. As we're walking home we hold hands. I feel bold. I hope to god that no one tells your dad. Your dad... As we step inside the smell of neglect hits me. But I don't say anything. If we can just get to your room I can breathe because your room smells like you. Happily I plop down on your bed, entice you to join me and after carefully shutting the door we lay there like an old happy couple. You tell me with your sad eyes that you really want to sing. I know you do. I know you used to love it. I hold you closer and kiss your forehead. "It'll be all right," I whisper knowing there isn't anything that could take back what happened. Softly you smile. You know that I am only saying these words to cheer you up and that magically, it does.
"I try to hum sometimes," you whisper. Or really, that's all you can manage. A word here and there. If you were lucky, a sentence.
"Yeah?" I want to hear it because I love you. But I worry because I love you. Softly though, you hum a few notes and I recognize the song. I sang it to you all the time. You smile nervously, like you always do. So I kiss you. I wish I could say, "Again" but there won't be for quite some time.
When your dad comes home we have to leave your room, our haven. There's nothing we can do, we have to greet him and I have to make shit small talk. "So, what are you guys going to do today?" he asked in that boorish monotone. So I ready my best stupid dumb girl act.
"Oh we're just going to watch some movies and talk about girl things." It's flawless. I hate that sometimes.
"Oh. What movies?" I don't know. Movies. Kind of on a whim. Maybe I'm letting my agitation get the better of me. I give him some bull answer that he accepts. "What are you going to talk about?" Did he need to know? Girl stuff. Private stuff. Or just normal stuff. Stuff she couldn't talk to you about anyway. I give him another bull answer, a little less convincing because I'm tired of him. He's so... exhausting. You finally finish with this little interrogation and we go back upstairs, much to his dismay. Much to mine, I don't think people can understand. Soon he would leave, it's almost time for your brother to go to karate.
We lay, messy and tired in our own way in our sanctuary, happy. Alone. With one another. I think as you are falling asleep on my chest to set an alarm just in case and cover us in blankets. Once more I wonder how sad it must be to have no voice here in this void. No voice that anyone has heard. But I can hear it. I wish other people, more capable, more useful could. I sneak in another kiss, you smile, surprised, but smile anyway and fall asleep. Soon, I do too.
If we're lucky, or even if I were lucky, I would hope you would wake up in a better place.
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