It's the year 2018 three scholarships were offered to the poor community for Las Encias, the most favored highschool education facility in Spain. I'm not even from Spain, my older brother published a book and since our dad was dead and both of our mothers had successfully taken over their own lives and made their dreams come true he dragged me all the way down here from america and enrolled me.
My grades are shit because I honestly don't care about the curriculum. I'm intelligent enough to ace all my courses final tests but throughout the year I simply do not waste my time. -Even now Mr. Lonte is rambling on in his thick accent making it damn near impossible for me to even understand. I know the language, my older brother is very big on respect and I understand his reasons why but this is unfair.
So I'm spending the hour working on lyrics...
My name is William and music is my life. I honestly think my music is the real reason Tyson brought me here with him.
"Play that song, Will. You know the one." He says, "You got that one playlist? We're going for a drive."
I love it. The windows down, his big ol' van he named Linda, the air and music. He drives and I sort through the shuffle of my songs and what's important to me and he day dreams to my command. He says I've written most of his latest novel and he thanks me every evening by leaving and coming back in the morning because he knows, "I'm a young man with needs." and that, "I should have friends come over."
None of these people talk to me. Not even the scholarship kids. No one noticed my existence when I was new because they were all focused on the girl in the hijab, the loud mouth party boy, and that really pretty thing who follows around the bubbly red head. I mean they don' t interest me anyhow. Not like Polo...
Oh, I don't talk to Polo. That would be stupid, right? I mean he's dating the marcrioness, or what the fuck she's called. Her bubbles powerpuff girl, neon party princess theme is loud and beautiful and all but I've heard the way she talks to Polo and that's not how you talk to someone you love. There are different levels and that isn't any of them. Hell if times were different I'd call it abuse but we're guys right? Nothing hurts us.
I mean I don't let anything. Not when I have a guitar in my hand and these hazel spheres of mine find the sky. This long blonde hair gets in the way though. It's almost orange to be honest. Sandy, natural, and absorbing the sun even now. It's spring and it's beautiful. The end of the year is here. Tomorrow is the big dance and I'm going to be a wall flower. I am every where though. Even back home my big camel colored jacket and I were more interested in comfort than crowd pleasing.
Tyson's made me "solidify my color" a lot lately. Claiming that being a character in life's story is knowing who it is when you look in the mirror. If I wear the cream jacket I have the pants and shoes to match. I can't exactly be my color in class though. I sit here in uniform just like the rest of them. Guzman, next to me, is so freaking stressed over what ever the Hell is happening in his life. Pregnant sister, drug addict, multiple possible baby daddy stress. It's your sister dude there's only so much protecting you can do for her. Who's protecting you? Who's guarding your lion heart? I'll bet you're a Leo. All about loyalty.
Who's protecting anyone here? They're all so distant and secretive.
Carla, the march princess, sure as fuck is secretive. She's tried to talk to me once, ask me for something in class; notes, a pencil. Something stupid. I pretended I didn't know any Spanish just so she'd leave me alone but she was sitting right next to Marina who'd have straight up told her I knew Spanish if they dared to speak to each other. Lot's of tension between those two lately.
It's none of my business. Why should I care. I don't know them. They don't know me. I'll ask Tyson if we can go for a drive. I get the feeling that dance is going to be something I could miss... however...
I don't know, Tyson is always telling me that when things seem a little too one sided that the easiest thing to do is change "the genera". He explains it like it's the atmosphere and weather patterns but that doesn't make sense to me. I believe, however, I have found the musical equivalent. When I'm sad on rainy days I could sit and listen to the woeful instrumentals and read while I sip tea with my brother or I could change the song and suddenly we're dancing to music no one listens too and having a most wonderful time.
"... For your summer projects." My ears perk at the sound of the teacher suddenly speaking in English. I can't make up an excuse this time to not listen. This is literary AP. It's got to be an exciting synopsis, "You must pair up with a fellow student and put together an after school club. Next year is all about inclusiveness. The more students you have sign up for your club the higher your grade. Moy importante; only one group will get the A and that also means one of you will fail the course and have to take it again when all your peers have moved on to bigger and better things."
Oh fuck. I sit here. My fingers itching because all I want is to spend my summer playing guitar and following Tyson when he goes on his adventures. I swear if I get stuck here...
"Hola." He says to me.
My heart stops. Everything feels so warm and yellow, like it does when I'm up before the sunrise and have the energy to do so without the need to be anywhere. I look up and see Polo standing there. All the other students are paired off and I know what he's about to ask but I'm terrified.
"Quieres ser socios?" Do you want to be partners, "Pardon. Como te llamas?"
I look down at my desk and a song comes to my mind. This happens a lot. Time practically slows down and I use the lyrics of what ever song is in my head to make my decision. It's so weird because I feel like they might know this happens and it's why they're willing to wait and also why they never talk to me.
I'm on THC you see. A hundred milligrams.
So the song comes from 'Dear Evan Hansen." I'm apparently self conscious because he's probably so normal and I'm someone... Well just listen.
You ever looked at all the people
Who seem to know exactly how to be
You think, "They don't need piles of perscriptions
To function naturally"
My brain goes to work. What do I say to this boy that seems normal. What is normal here? Let's just hope I get it right.
"William. Si, me gustario mucho." Yes. I'd like that very much.
The bell rings. He smiles at me and pulls out his phone. He clicks a couple buttons and slides the phone across my journal page where I've scribbled some lyrics in english I find myself hoping he can't read because it's personal. His thick black hair is so shiny and somehow looks so soft. His eyes are...
Well look again you might catch it
Just stay a minute more
I'm punching in my phone numbers and I catch exactly what the next line preaches.
There's this little moment after the sunny smile
As their eyes fall to the floor.
He's turned away but I can see the shadow of despair eclipse him and Guzman is following him out of the classroom. They all have that shadow. Oh, that worries me. Then suddenly my medication is wearing off because the vision of the song is taking over and I've got to get to my locker for my hallucinations can be real sometimes and it's hard to tell the difference.
And the truth starts peeking through
they're a lot like me and you
They can fake a smile too.
I grab my jacket, pull it over my head, and then my guitar is in my hands and I'm over taken by the blue hue that owns the show in these halls and it's all I can do to strum the melody of that first sweet and subtle chorus because I can't go back to the blue. I fight so hard to stay in this happy yellow and cream. The beach, the mornings first light, the breeze. These thoughts are how I fight the eerie feeling I find lurking in these halls.
"The anonymous ones.
Never let you see the ache they carry.
All of those Anonymous ones
Who never name that quiet pain they bury."
The other students don't understand, is what I'm hoping. Then I see hateful Luceria's mean mug she was just giving to the girl with the hijab fade. I know now that at least one of them know my truth but I have no friends and no leverage in her world so who cares. I walk past them and into the breezeway where I find Ander sitting a top the stone wall and I continue to sing despite the face that he's staring at me.
"So they keep on keeping secrets they think they have to hide
but what if everybody's secret is that they have that secret side
and to know they're somehow not a lone
well that's all they're hoping for.
What if they didn't have to stay..."
I'm out on the quad and I catch my reflection in the blacked out windows of the March Princesses limousine this bitch rides to school everyday and I see them all behind me;
Marina, Samu, Carla, Luceria, Ander, Guzman, Nadia (the hijab girl), Christian (the loud mouth party boy), and Polo.
And so I finish the verse and climb into the passenger seat of Tyson's van.
"...Anonymous anymore."
The door shuts and we're driving away. I'm safe, no more being seen. I skip the dance. I text Polo and tell him I'll take over the project so he doesn't have to come see me. This is fine. It'll all be fine.
Tyson passes me the blunt and says, "I picked up your tux for the dance. You'll need to start getting ready at five."
"The dance isn't even until seven." I say.
He looks at me, "I know you. It takes you forever to prepare yourself mentally for something like this and I want you to have a good time."
"I have to go?" I ask.
His sapphire spheres hold the most calming smirk, "You'll regret it if you don't."
I know. Damn it.
