(Insert Title Here)
The ending.
Disclaimer: all my own and all original.
It felt weird our unplanned impromptu meeting. He approached where I sat perched against a tree on the outskirts of school's property. At first I didn't notice his presence as I read my library book. He cleared his throat abruptly and slumped down beside me.
"Hi," he spoke casually as though we spoke everyday.
"Hi," I replied sharply. I wasn't sure what to do. I suppressed the excited giggle that rose from my stomach. I stared down intently at the book, steadied on my lap.
"Miss your bus?" He inquired. A desperate attempt to break the ice.
"I walk." My answer was short, what do you say to the guy you've been in pseudo-love with since the ninth grade? Do you suddenly feel comfortable talking to him after so many pretend conversations that had played out in your head yet funnily enough out the of thousands of possibilities this is one you've never thought up. My hands curled around the edges of my book drumming lightly the tune of my growing nervousness.
Silence.
"So, English was crazy today, huh?" he feigned a chuckle.
"Always is." I retorted still unsure of what to say or do. I dare not look up but closed my book so he wouldn't leave. I listened quietly for him to speak holding my breath every time I heard a leave rustle or a car pass.
"Did you understand anything we talked about in history?" he asked. I released my breath in a long streaming action.
"Yeah, It's called paying attention," I smirked finally looking up. He hadn't left even with my awkward conversationalist tendencies.
"Yeah, I guess that could help," he chuckled softly and shifted toward me.
"So is there a point or purpose to this conversation, Jake?" I glanced quickly off toward the school scanning for his friends. My defenses were on the rise as he retreated back a step. I suddenly felt like people were watching, staring, and waiting for me to screw up like all my nightmares had predicted. I saw my friends faces floating above my head as I listened to them tell me I need to move on and forget about the boy I'll never have but want so bad.
"Well you looked lonely over here. So I thought I'd come by and say hi."
So highly likely, huh, right? Can he really be for real?
"Hi," I said with a short wave of my hand. My head was spinning. My mind on overdrive, I felt the sudden onset of motion sickness. Trying to remain calm I picked up my book again. He didn't get up. Things weren't right and I knew it. In my dreams this conversation or not even conversation would be plausible but this was reality and boys like Jake don't just sit down and talk to girls like me. I placed the book back at my feet. Looking at him I scoffed, "Since when are you so worried about the well-being of the senior class sociopath?"
I immediately felt bad. His usual sparkling demeanor seemed damaged. He leaned his head back against the tree and exhaled as he ran his hands over his face. He turned and looked at me again. I turned to apologize. His palm came up. I stopped before I began. I searched for what to say next. My mind felt blank as I waited for him to make the next move.
"I guess I deserve that," he said shaking his head lightly. I smiled weakly and waited for him to continue but he never did.
"Look, it's just weird. Our usual conversation consists of you asking for a pencil. And occasionally we banter in English. So this is all a little awkward," I uttered softly. I could never keep my cool for long. Here I go. Watch out because this may get ugly.
"Yeah, thanks by the way."
I raised an eyebrow unsure of what he meant.
"For the pencil," he added thoughtfully.
"Yeah, no problem."
Staring toward the ground I watched my breath mix with his in the frigid winter air. Suddenly realizing the weather, I wrung my hands together and blew lightly on them before looking in my pocket for my gloves. Coming up unsuccessfully I placed my hands deep into my pockets and waited. He still sat. Silently breathing in rhythm with me.
"So, what about you? You miss your ride?" I asked finally breaking the long-standing silence. Trying to suppress my shock he was still seated beside me. Waiting.
"No." he didn't expand as the wind picked up and knocked open my book. I surrendered. Defeated I placed it safely in my backpack. I waited again for him to speak.
He stood up and lightly dusted the dirt off the back of his jeans. So, this is it, I blew it. A chance to really talk to Jake and I blew it. His hand reached down to me. Unsure and unnerved I helped myself up, readying to say goodbye.
"Do you ever want to just walk out the door and never come back," he began catching me off-guard, "I mean you must know what its like to desperately want to get out of this god-forsaken town."
I smiled lightly and let him continue as we wandered aimlessly through the deserted parking lot of the school. Was I wrong? Could it be possible Jake was just like me but in celebrity skin.
"I mean everyday it's the same. We're all fucking sheep! Sheep I tell you! I swear walking down the hallway I hear people fucking baa-ing!" He chuckled to himself. I searched his face for a hint of irony but his expression was completely serious.
"I think I know what you mean." I laughed. I mean who else could have a better understanding of the repetitious affliction circulating amongst the happy peppy people of high school life in Small Town, USA.
"I guess you would." He said smoothly. It didn't come out mean or condescending but surprisingly understanding and almost gracious.
"Don't guess. Know." I whispered. Looking around I tried avoiding eye contact as we walked closer to the school. I finally clamped my eyes steadily on my feet as they walked sloppily next to his steady steps of a well-executed swagger. I felt him staring intently at me. I self-consciously raised a hand to my cheek, blocking myself from his view. And started to talk.
"It's weird to think about but when you look around you at all this, all them and see them, really see them. It's warped. I see their faces dissolving into nothingness, blank canvases. They stare back at me pleading, begging me to paint them an expression. In my mind, I wish I could move my fingers swiftly and gently across those 500 canvases and create new emotions unknown to those freshly sheered, freshly groomed sheep."
His expression was deadpan when I finally worked up the nerve to look at him. His vacant façade quickly crumbled revealing a smile. I smiled back.
"You get it completely," I whispered scared to hear my own voice. He just nodded and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. He stopped suddenly.
"Why don't we ever talk?" he asked.
"What do you call this?"
"No, I mean like before. Why don't we ever talk?"
" You never try to." I said. He scrunched his brow at this, "Okay, we never tried. You're too high up there and I'm… well… me… I'm nowhere you wanna be," I leaned against the cold brick of the school.
"It's not that simple. I'm here and you're there? We're all the same," he said.
"Yeah, sure, for now, until Andy or Tom or Kevin or anyone for that matter finds us here and you suddenly don't know me or are merely talking to me for the notes from history that you slept through yesterday. It's so fucking Breakfast Club." I kicked off the wall suddenly upset he even sat beside me in the first place.
"If I remember correctly in the end of that movie they all worked it out."
"Yeah, but I'm positive it didn't last long because a little thing called reality comes along and washes the muck off the window so they can see the world we live. A world where you are there and I'm here. Why do you think they never made a Breakfast Club II? I wasn't just because Molly Ringwald pissed off John Hughes," I started to walk away.
"Stop," he laid a hand on my shoulder and turning me to face him. The two feet between us seemed to be withering away as I unconsciously bite my inner lip and waited for him to speak.
"Don't" I whispered against the harsh wind whipping past my freezing skin. "Don't pretend that one conversation is gonna change four years of high school, four years I'll never get to go back and change or fix, four years of my life that you know nothing about."
He flashed a cocky grin. "I know more than you think. I hate being stereotyped and pin-holed just as much as you I just happen to have a bigger group of friends to be stereotyped with."
"You're so. Jeez," I looked away from his eyes and glanced at the ground searching through the words forming in my mind. His icy fingers reached below my trembling chin and forced my eyes back up to meet his. "You're so oblivious sometimes. I'm not talking about my lack of friends or my low social standing, that I truly don't mind, It's just the fact that a guy I liked since ninth grade finally realized I was more than just a pencil dispenser today." My voice grew with each phrase. The gap between us had widened and the air felt icy like the temperature dropped dramatically in those last few moments. "That's what I'm talking about: You and me and the undeniable truth of high school and beyond. This Twilight Zone episode only last an hour, right?" Wrapping my long arms around my cold body I watched and waited for his reaction. Suddenly self-conscious about the all the things I had blurted out in a short amount of constricted time.
He looked confused for a second as the information sunk in. His features change and his eyes flashed red. "Talk about Twilight Zone? Like me, you barely know me. I mean for years you act like you hate me and I'm Satan's spawn and than you come out with this."
My heart was pounding and I wanted to run but my feet remained stationery as I let my silent tears run down my cheek stinging them with each small stream of regret.
"Who are you?" he asked in a condescending tone. I stared inadvertently at my cracked, chapped and callused hands. Finally, with dried up tears and a sniffling nose, I looked him in the eye and with voice cracking, spoke.
"I'm the movie you anticipate for weeks but never get to see. I'm the piece of pie you think about all day but when you open the fridge you only find my empty tin." His eyes reflected mine as I stared dead on. He swallowed hard. I wasn't finished, "I'm your favorite pair of sneakers with dog shit on the sole. I'm your favorite song that ended just as you turned the radio on. I'm everything you want me to be and everything you don't." I saw the tiny pores on his face begin to perspire. His breathing quicken as he searched for the quickest escape.
"I'm the person you see in a supermarket ten years after graduation and ask 'how are you?' but you don't want to know the answer." He shifted nervously. I moved to leave.
Turning back I smiled coyly. "Nobody knows what it's like to be me. Nobody has a clue what it's like to be me. Nobody has a hint what it's like to be me. Nobody cares what it's like to be me. Nobody even wants to know me. So, who am I? More importantly, who are you?"
That's where I left him, staring and slackjawed. Walking away I felt a wave of relief wash across my overactive inactive mind. I almost jumped up in the air and hollered. I felt like I was the champion of some major event when I merely just said what I felt. For the first time without caution and regard for my vulnerability and pride; I was honest.
Walking home, I felt a light tickle on my nose I suddenly looked around and noticed the swirling shapes of white floating to the already pure coated ground packing on top of the ones that came before. In the heat of recent events, I was completely ignorant to the world around me and all that came with it as my mind tried to unwind and cool off.
The wet patterns painted me a picture and as I entered the whimsical winter illustration I smiled up at the open sky for my artist to be proud. The work of art was suddenly not the scenery but the subject it was created for: Me. My portrait was never complete before because I never entered it.
I watched my reflection in the twin glass doors at the front of the school as I came by. The reflection that stared back from the glass smiled. I just looked at myself and realized I can't change. And that finally, at the end of the day, all I have left to do is just stare back at my own reflection and smile.