On the sturdy plastic computer table that sat across from his bed,
lay Gordo's open year book. It's pages had som signatures and well wishes,
but one particular page seemed to take on it's own life, filled with a
longing nursed by obsession. Across the room, the blue comforter lay
crumpled on the floor. Near it lay a book, by William Blake. Other than
that, and a few school books and pieces of notebook paper, the room was
clean. Still it have a "lived in" look, that could make a person feel
comfortable in it. Gordo stood in the bathroom, mindlessly brushing his
teeth. He spit out a gob of blue spit and heaved a deep sigh. How did the
weekend go by so quickly? It was already 10 minutes until he needed to
catch the bus, by Gordo was in no mood to hurry. Quickly, he finished
brushing his teeth and pulled on his shoes. His hair was a mess of dark
curls, and he hadn't brushed it, but he liked the way it looked so he
grabbed his backpack and left. His parents were both working and they
would be gone when he got home.
It was still very early when the bus arrived at school. The orange sun was rising up through a mist of pastel blues and pinks. High School. A tall brick building, laden with large windows and paw prints (the symbol of their school mascot). The scattered colours of students wearing the latest styles, from t-shirts sporting some underground alternative band, to others that said some crude but funny statement. From girls in peasant shirts, to boys in tight pants, from tank tops to short skirts, from vintage tee's to non- perscription, horn rimmed glasses. The school was a zoo. Covered in cement sidewalks and linoleum floors, all lit by blinding flourescent lights, it was, a prison. Gordo walked through the hallways, unnoticed by the mobs of teenagers around him. Teachers walked past seeming even more miserable and dissillusioned than the students they taught. A living breathing hypocrisy. That was high school. Gordo thought back to middle school when everything seemed easy. 'Ignorance really is bliss', he thought to himself somberly.
A little ways ahead of him he saw her. Those long strips of beautiful blonde hair twirling in the wind like the silver chimes that hung outside his window at home. He could hear her hair too, just like them, sparkling out a hymn of beauty . . . calling out to him. Round pink lips were all he saw as she turned to him and they spread into a smile, revealing two rows of glistening pearls. Quickly, Gordo responded with his typical half smile and nod of the head. Tossing his hand up in the air in a casual wave. "Hey Lizzie," he said as enthusiastically as he possibly could on a gloomy, early morning like this.
"Hey Gordo," she responded kindly.
"Yeah, go ahead and ignore me," Miranda said rolling her eyes at Gordo's obvious infatuation with Lizzie.
"Hey, Miranda. Uh, sorry. I'm a little distracted . . . there's a, big test, in um, Chemistry today. I'm nervous."
"Oh, please Gordo, you shouldn't be worried, you always make straight A's," Lizzie said smiling.
"Yeah, well, I wasn't born a genius . . . we brilliant people must study too," he was working hard to supress the rouge that was fighting to show in his cheeks.
"Oh, my God, guess who talked to me this morning," Lizzie spouted suddenly. Bursting with the answer before anyone could get a word in she squeeked out, "Ethan Craft! Eek!"
"Wow, go Lizzie . . . what did he say?" Miranda said, a tinge of envy in her voice.
"Oh, well, he asked me what the homework was, but he seemed really interested-," as Miranda rolled her eyes and Gordo looked to the ground, Lizzie added, "Okay, so I know I'm pathetic, but just humor me. I mean, I know I've had a crush on Ethan for like ever, and I never have a chance with him, but I don't have a chance with any of the other guys either-"
"Why would you say that?" Gordo blurted without thinking.
"Because I've been in highschool for almost a year now and I haven't had one date or even one boy talk to me as anything but just a friend-"
"That's not true, I-", Gordo paused.
"You what?" Lizzie asked hesitantly, yet intregued.
"I've heard guys say you were pretty and really cool. And you're not pathetic for liking Ethan, I mean, I don't really understand it, but, you could never be pathetic you're-"
The bell sounded throughout the hallways. Gordo hastily grabbed his things and rushed off saying goodbye to Lizzie and Miranda's baffled expressions. Gordo thought about what an idiot he had been, the stupid things he said. Their conversations were becoming awkward small talk. He just didn't know how to act around his best friend. He didn't understand his feelings or his thoughts.
The school day, as every other, went by in a blur. Gordo sat in each class tapping his pencil against the side of his desk or tearing apart paper, letting the pieces rain to the floor. Each day was like this. Every moment filled with regret. He wanted the day to go by as quickly as possible, so he could get home, crawl into bed and be away from life. Still, this felt like an awful waste of his youth, and he hated the fact that he hated being awake. That every day, he just wished it were night.
The resounding school bell rang in his ears all the way home. The feeling of failure and guilt clung to his insides like a fly being tightly bound to a spider's web. The drive home was as usual, he spoke to no one. He simply sat, head leaning against his shoulder, eyes peering out at a better life, a better world that seemed completely disconnected from his. Finally, the yellow monster, that gobbled up even more of these students precious lives, polluting the world along the way, stopped down the street from Gordo's house, near a bench and a blue and white sign that read "Bus Stop". Feeling that wet heat smack into his face, Gordo heaved out a heavy sigh and began the walk home, along the cracked sidewalk, weeds sprouting up between. Even from an outside view, the house at the end of the block, with its blue shutters and white trim, stood silent and menacing. It emmited a dangerous scent of betrayal and anger. Reluctantly, Gordo stepped up onto the walkway, leaning over first to check the blue, tin mailbox to see if any letters lay inside. Two were there: bills. Gordo then, prepared himself with a deep breath and traversed his way into his own home that he hated so much, he feared. Everything looked quiet. Settled. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no clothes or newspapers sprawled on the couch or dining room table. The house was clean and sparkling, as usual. With a roll of his eyes, and a special effort to dirty up the place a bit by kicking off his shoes and tossing them messily onto the floor, Gordo headed upstairs to his room. With the lights off everything seemed to have an ironic glow. The small bit of light that crept in through the blinds in the window, seemed to cling to certain objects, outlining them. These objects seemed happier than the rest. Chosen. Special. Gordo walked over to his desk and took one glance, or rather, one very long gaze at the picture he had been staring at the night before in his open year book. Her hair shone with a golden glow, that seemed lit by her smile. He touched her face and said her name aloud. "Lizzie." Quickly turning his head now, he slammed the book shut and placed it on his bookshelf with the rest. Popping a few tylenol pms into his mouth, he trudged slowly to his bed, slumping down in it as if he'd been walking for days with no food or water. The light still shone ambiguously through the window pane. The yearbook shone back, lit up by the glow. Special.
It was still very early when the bus arrived at school. The orange sun was rising up through a mist of pastel blues and pinks. High School. A tall brick building, laden with large windows and paw prints (the symbol of their school mascot). The scattered colours of students wearing the latest styles, from t-shirts sporting some underground alternative band, to others that said some crude but funny statement. From girls in peasant shirts, to boys in tight pants, from tank tops to short skirts, from vintage tee's to non- perscription, horn rimmed glasses. The school was a zoo. Covered in cement sidewalks and linoleum floors, all lit by blinding flourescent lights, it was, a prison. Gordo walked through the hallways, unnoticed by the mobs of teenagers around him. Teachers walked past seeming even more miserable and dissillusioned than the students they taught. A living breathing hypocrisy. That was high school. Gordo thought back to middle school when everything seemed easy. 'Ignorance really is bliss', he thought to himself somberly.
A little ways ahead of him he saw her. Those long strips of beautiful blonde hair twirling in the wind like the silver chimes that hung outside his window at home. He could hear her hair too, just like them, sparkling out a hymn of beauty . . . calling out to him. Round pink lips were all he saw as she turned to him and they spread into a smile, revealing two rows of glistening pearls. Quickly, Gordo responded with his typical half smile and nod of the head. Tossing his hand up in the air in a casual wave. "Hey Lizzie," he said as enthusiastically as he possibly could on a gloomy, early morning like this.
"Hey Gordo," she responded kindly.
"Yeah, go ahead and ignore me," Miranda said rolling her eyes at Gordo's obvious infatuation with Lizzie.
"Hey, Miranda. Uh, sorry. I'm a little distracted . . . there's a, big test, in um, Chemistry today. I'm nervous."
"Oh, please Gordo, you shouldn't be worried, you always make straight A's," Lizzie said smiling.
"Yeah, well, I wasn't born a genius . . . we brilliant people must study too," he was working hard to supress the rouge that was fighting to show in his cheeks.
"Oh, my God, guess who talked to me this morning," Lizzie spouted suddenly. Bursting with the answer before anyone could get a word in she squeeked out, "Ethan Craft! Eek!"
"Wow, go Lizzie . . . what did he say?" Miranda said, a tinge of envy in her voice.
"Oh, well, he asked me what the homework was, but he seemed really interested-," as Miranda rolled her eyes and Gordo looked to the ground, Lizzie added, "Okay, so I know I'm pathetic, but just humor me. I mean, I know I've had a crush on Ethan for like ever, and I never have a chance with him, but I don't have a chance with any of the other guys either-"
"Why would you say that?" Gordo blurted without thinking.
"Because I've been in highschool for almost a year now and I haven't had one date or even one boy talk to me as anything but just a friend-"
"That's not true, I-", Gordo paused.
"You what?" Lizzie asked hesitantly, yet intregued.
"I've heard guys say you were pretty and really cool. And you're not pathetic for liking Ethan, I mean, I don't really understand it, but, you could never be pathetic you're-"
The bell sounded throughout the hallways. Gordo hastily grabbed his things and rushed off saying goodbye to Lizzie and Miranda's baffled expressions. Gordo thought about what an idiot he had been, the stupid things he said. Their conversations were becoming awkward small talk. He just didn't know how to act around his best friend. He didn't understand his feelings or his thoughts.
The school day, as every other, went by in a blur. Gordo sat in each class tapping his pencil against the side of his desk or tearing apart paper, letting the pieces rain to the floor. Each day was like this. Every moment filled with regret. He wanted the day to go by as quickly as possible, so he could get home, crawl into bed and be away from life. Still, this felt like an awful waste of his youth, and he hated the fact that he hated being awake. That every day, he just wished it were night.
The resounding school bell rang in his ears all the way home. The feeling of failure and guilt clung to his insides like a fly being tightly bound to a spider's web. The drive home was as usual, he spoke to no one. He simply sat, head leaning against his shoulder, eyes peering out at a better life, a better world that seemed completely disconnected from his. Finally, the yellow monster, that gobbled up even more of these students precious lives, polluting the world along the way, stopped down the street from Gordo's house, near a bench and a blue and white sign that read "Bus Stop". Feeling that wet heat smack into his face, Gordo heaved out a heavy sigh and began the walk home, along the cracked sidewalk, weeds sprouting up between. Even from an outside view, the house at the end of the block, with its blue shutters and white trim, stood silent and menacing. It emmited a dangerous scent of betrayal and anger. Reluctantly, Gordo stepped up onto the walkway, leaning over first to check the blue, tin mailbox to see if any letters lay inside. Two were there: bills. Gordo then, prepared himself with a deep breath and traversed his way into his own home that he hated so much, he feared. Everything looked quiet. Settled. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no clothes or newspapers sprawled on the couch or dining room table. The house was clean and sparkling, as usual. With a roll of his eyes, and a special effort to dirty up the place a bit by kicking off his shoes and tossing them messily onto the floor, Gordo headed upstairs to his room. With the lights off everything seemed to have an ironic glow. The small bit of light that crept in through the blinds in the window, seemed to cling to certain objects, outlining them. These objects seemed happier than the rest. Chosen. Special. Gordo walked over to his desk and took one glance, or rather, one very long gaze at the picture he had been staring at the night before in his open year book. Her hair shone with a golden glow, that seemed lit by her smile. He touched her face and said her name aloud. "Lizzie." Quickly turning his head now, he slammed the book shut and placed it on his bookshelf with the rest. Popping a few tylenol pms into his mouth, he trudged slowly to his bed, slumping down in it as if he'd been walking for days with no food or water. The light still shone ambiguously through the window pane. The yearbook shone back, lit up by the glow. Special.
