Nowhere Man

-By Yo-yo

Lovely Rita:

She'd been called Lovely Rita from the lovely way she made your legs disappear as you lost yourself between hers. Everything about her was lovely. The way her tongue rolled in your mouth, the same way it rolled when she purred her name. The way she stretched and writhed beneath you and on top of you. The way she said my name when she'd reached the pinnacle of happiness.

Margaret Terlington was a siren and I had been entranced by her song only on a few very drunk occasions. For I would never truly take Rita seriously, she has enamored way too many Chilton men for my tastes.

But those thoughts didn't matter to me right now with her long golden legs wrapped tightly around me- how are her legs tan, it's January? I hate fake and bakes- her body pressed almost suffocating against mine and her hair between my fingers.

I'm not even sure how this thought entered my brain, but before I knew it I had grabbed her and pulled her against the lockers, firmly expressing to Sadie that I would not be her date for the family outing.

To Rita, it's only a show.

For me, it is merely an act.

We both know there are no feelings. There are only teenage hormones, accompanied with deceptive agendas. She has as much riding on this public display as I do. Both our reputations are dependent upon keeping this "real."

Her mouth moves to my throat and I can hear a gasp.

It isn't Rita's gasp, its Sadie's.

It's as if Rita attached to my lips means nothing until this moment. It's as if her eyes are misconnected to her brain and there's a shortage. She's receiving the info too late.

Simultaneously I hear the speed dial of a cell phone and the late bell ring.

And then everything is quiet.

I know she is gone. I heard her shoes slapping the linoleum as she scurried away.

I tore myself away from her, fixing my collar and adjusting my tie.

"Thanks."

I began to head towards Medina's class...Damn! I forgot my Romeo and Juliet paper!

I need to brush my teeth.

After the episode in the corridor with Lovely Rita I've been meaning to retreat to the lavatory and rid her taste from my mouth. My teeth feel dirty from her saliva; my saliva thick from her sweetness.

But they will not let me out.

The teachers will not give me a pass to leave the class. They ignore my presence in the room, only acknowledging my existence when I force them to. Very much like Them.

I wonder what I will do when I get home?

I only have to study for my chemistry exam. But after that, I have nothing to do.

No one will be there, except for Alina.

I could go to Jase's house. Evie is making her 16-bean soup. I love that stuff. Whenever she makes it, Kay lays a paper towel on the table and keeps inventory on which types of beans she's consumed in order to prove her mother wrong at the end of the meal.

But I feel as if I'm imposing. If I'm there too often she will have something to say. Not something bad about me, but she'll be concerned. Evie will call Them. She'll ask why I don't want to be at home, why I spend my nights sitting on the docks, watching the ducks walk over the frozen river with my cd player blasting in my ears.

I wonder why Holden Caufield needed to know where the ducks went? I've read that story a million times and still can't figure out his obsession.

But at least Jase's house drowns out the quiet.

I hate the silence.

It suffocates my lungs. Since I was little I could not stand the void of life my house exudes. Because that's what silence is. It's the absence of life. When you're dead, you don't make a sound. When you're bored you don't speak. When you're uncomfortable, when you're alone, when you're Them, you don't speak, even to your own son.

Oh, Caldecott has stopped speaking and everyone has begun packing up their things.

Lane is animatedly gesticulating to the girl sitting behind her. Her hair is pulled into two braids with ribbons at the ends.

She must be Emily's granddaughter, I've heard rumors that she'd gotten in.

In her uniform she looks far different than before. The blue plaid of Chilton doesn't flatter her. The jacket she wears is too tight. The skirt she wears too short. The stockings too itchy. She looks stiff; artificial. She looks...

...Right into my eyes. And I am lost.

Her eyes have trapped me, I cannot get away. They are so blue they drown me, pushing me deeper into a bottomless ocean. They are glistening, beautiful...gone.

TBC...