The moment you get out your car, the parking lot is like a damn runway and you are under the onslaught for stares and whispers, some of which are not too subtle neither and I pretend I don't see or hear them. it's easy to be intimidated by it, some people I watch as they display nervous quirks, like brushing their fingers repeatedly through their hair, gazes cast down to the toe of their shoes, arms locked tight across chests or the persistent gnawing at gum…
The list goes on. What I figured is some like to make themselves invisible while others project their presence. Either way it's all a response to who they think might be watching and I suppose once upon a time I cared. It was only natural that I did and I had fallen in both the former and latter category mentioned, however now…I actually couldn't care less.
Could be that among the few jock's and cheerleaders, the janitor and teachers of course, I was usually the first one in the parking lot. So, there was never much of a crowd to gawk at me, when I had the drama block booked for my morning sessions every Monday and Wednesday morning, then Thursday evening. Days then when I was immersed in that insufferable wave of people, I found it easy to ignore them and pretend it was as it is now.
Quiet, peaceful and only me, myself and I.
I rubbed my hands together as the mist of a cold morning dew haunted the area, so in just my spandex, a pair of leg warmers over the knee, then tights underneath, I wasn't really protected from the October weather and it was just gonna get colder from here on out. I groaned knowing I was cutting into my time just by lingering in the car, so with a heavy sigh I quickly grabbed the two bags in the passenger seat beside me, then catching glimpse of a denim jacket hanging over the headrest, added that about my shoulders.
Ready as I'll ever be, I shot out with the keys jangling in my already shaky hand, making the task of locking my door that much harder.
"come on you son of a bitch!" I screeched through gritted teeth, happy when I heard the pop of the car locks and dashed madly for the entrance. If the ground was frozen I would have surely slid on my backside and wasn't totally out of danger with the tarmac slick from the moisture hanging in the air, so keeping my feet light and quick, I safely made it into the home of the tigers, Hawkins High.
My eyes were immediatly assaulted by white, green and orange as I mockingly roared back at the creature painted at reception, which earnt me a queer look from the elderly woman manning the front desk.
"and a good morning to you too Beth."
Her glasses edged to the tip of her nose, Trudy was a relic in this place and a permanent fixture at her desk ever since I started coming in this early and even late at night. I swear she just gets absorbed by the ancient and stale air, then manifests when company is about, in order to patrol her beloved school.
Not even her clothes would change, always in the same powdered blue blouse, since I have never seen her below the waist where she was sat, with hair like a cloud floating around her pale face, which has deeper crevices than the Grand Canyon, making it hard to ever imagine she was once young.
I didn't reply back and strode onwards as she called out using her withered voice chords, "taking your usual residence at the drama class I suppose! Mind to leave it as you found it."
The reason I liked the drama room was because it was empty, ideal for what I used it for and making her statement pointless as there was nothing to disturb, but spooky Trudy always had to get a nag in somewhere, which I allowed without biting back.
A quick stop at my locker, my book bag slunk into the next available space, among the water bottles and where trees have come to die in the form of late homework assignments, party invites, detention slips, posters, photos, revision cards etc.
It was a struggle to keep it all contained, so the key was to shut the door as quickly as you opened it, to stop the avalanche and with a double tap on the metal, the rhythm was meant to prompt me to pick the bag back up and not be forgotten about unless more detention slips, or cause for concern notes were handed to me to add into the pile.
After that, it took me less than five minutes until I had reached my refuge.
Cast in darkness, I flicked the switch to ignite the glaring spotlights scattered on the ceiling, bathing the room in light and the grotesque display of photos from past theatre productions I grant you, but that was to the far right and left, when in front, there were floor to ceiling mirrors ready to catch my every move.
The stereo practically winked at me, causing a smirk to cut across my face as though meeting a secret lover. I couldn't help it, the art had completely seduced me as a way to vent out all my frustrations or to express myself in ways I didn't know how to verbally, which people couldn't understand when my vocalising just what I think about other's gets me into more trouble than I care to dwell on.
It just wasn't the same or as satisfying.
Dancing, as soon as I pressed play for the cassette to fire away, it was like a reset button had been hit to cleanse me of all my troubles as I projected things in a language that no one could strictly understand but interpret with every step, kick, lunge and spin…
And it didn't matter if they got what I was feeling or not, because it only mattered if in my bones, I had expelled all the energy I had wanted to release, making my blood boil with the sheer effort and my breath laboured. Often it was like even my counterpart in the mirror struggled to keep up, as I watched her with hungry eyes devour and copy every movement, as I flipped, twirled and rolled around, to 'why' by the Bronski beat, contorting my body into unnatural shapes to the beat.
It was pure freedom.
The sudden disruption by Mr Davidson was my alarm to let me know when time was up in his studio. As soon as he entered to disturb my 'party', I knew I had roughly 45 minutes to get my ass to the showers, change and make it to homeroom.
Even with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins, punctuality was no friend of mine, but I never got into any arguments over it. Miss Tawney was a meek sort of lady who hated confrontation and preferred the backing of other teachers should discipline be dealt. So, she and I had sort of this unspoken deal which involved that I actually attend at some point and do so quietly, as if I was here the whole time, while she said nothing, that way neither of us could tread on each other's toes.
From what I heard, the hope among the faculty was that I was going to gain some kind of scholarship in dance, to offer me some chance in a bright future which to them currently was murky and needed someone to squint real hard before they could say I had the chance to make something of myself, in order to add me to being one of their success stories.
Truth is, I didn't have a clue what college thought they could teach me to dance better. in my head if I listened to the instruction of some has been, then I wouldn't be gaining what I loved out of it and what made me excel in what I did as soon as the music played. My inspiration wasn't to be famous or to perform for anyone else but myself. Dance was mine, a lifejacket to keep me afloat and as soon as I made it a job to work at, then I was damning myself to drown under the pressure.
However, I kept this to myself for now, since part of me did care to some degree that to admit I had no intention in taking my talent any further than the drama room mirrors, would likely kill off my mother and also end the leniency I got in the school when my tongue was too sharp and my gaze murderous.
Among my peers, I had earnt the name 'ice queen' because of my demeanour. Hardly original, but I had grown accustomed to it if it meant they left me alone. I might actually play into it a little because of that fact.
freshly showered, my hair was pulled into a high pony which I hated, to try and give it some volume as it dried, since I always left it hang loose as a preference but as I made my way to the back of the room, my fussing distracted me enough that i didn't notice that the seat I was making for was already occupied.
That was until that said person cleared their throat to get my attention.
The click of my heels stopped mid step in shock and to see that someone had dared to take my spot.
everyone knew to leave this space well enough alone and as the year draws on people subconsciously assign themselves their seats without instruction by the teacher and it was weird when someone broke that order, yet this person seemed to revel in it.
like apollo, this carefully carved specimen knew his worth in beauty and it was his means to popularity as he still managed to radiate an air of masculinity behind it somehow, despite those doe eyes and rosy lips, which made the rest of the pack respect him as a leader.
From anyone else, I might have taken it as an honest mistake, but the amusement in the chuckles I could hear erupting around us destroyed that possibility. Not to mention I could taste his enjoyment to see me standing here with my feathers all ruffled and smell his desire for me to make a scene that would award him with even more attention.
I admit, it was hard not to pinch him by that ridiculous earing and haul him away from my sight, but that would break my deal with miss tawney. However, by remaining standing for so long it was too late and i could tell she thought herself needing to address me.
"umm…miss Henderson, is there… a problem?" her tone was far too squeaky, yet I remained cool and directed her to the occupant of my chair with visible disgust marring my face which she took notice of, as did my peers.
"ah I see" she added, nervously scanning the sea of students for another open space, since that was the simplest resolution. But the idea I had to be the one to accept that alternative desk rather than the new kid actually caused me to grit my teeth so hard I thought jaw would lock.
It wasn't that I felt entitled to the desk, after all I wasn't spoilt enough to want to claim everything I touched as my own like a child. It was just his attitude was really annoying me and it felt like a victory in some ridiculous battle I hadn't known was being fought against me, since I've never seen this person in my life until now.
And first impressions, were not good.
What made it worse was his feigned attempt at being somewhat apologetic. While Twiddling a pencil between his fingers, his long legs were stretched out, leaving nothing to the imagination as a tongue slowly licked and lingered at the corner of his mouth, flicking his gaze from top to bottom of me as if I needed his perverted approval.
"sorry sweetheart, didn't realise people here were so territorial."
He finished the sentence as gentle as a whisper even with the natural boyish rasp to his voice and I could tell he had hoped for a particular response. The sort where a girl gets flustered from a boy's attention, good or bad, because they were so gorgeous they could get away with treating a girl like crap, because how could the female compare to such a domineering presence. Therefore, any sort of attention warranted a blush, a heart flutter, a nervous and shy smile, as we obeyed their will. However, I was not the type.
Instead, I genuinely chuckled enough to silence everyone else and when I was finished, I leant on the desk whilst cocking my head to the side and asked, "what's your name?"
Not a question, more of a demand.
"Hargrove. Billy hargrove"
I sighed nonchalantly to give this idea it wasn't likely one I was going to care enough to remember and with a turn of my heel, I begrudgingly took my new seat, where I would have to pretend the front row would not annoy me as well as the knowing that by being so close to the door, anyone that came in and out would hit my desk each time.
'just breathe' I reminded myself, to help my shoulders relax and prevent the reflex to stick my middle finger up, "sorry miss tawney, please continue."
I knew I was going to learn a whole lot more about this newcomer sooner or later. fresh meat always initiated a wave of excitement in a small town. It was unusual though for someone to be quite so direct in his so-called introduction. clearly, he had gotten wind of my reputation and this 'billy' had to make a point to impress the masses in trying to defrost my icy disposition.
a point validated by Tommy Hagan, if I had to guess, when I overheard someone say none to quietly, "good luck with her, our schools unconquerable."
I had to give it to him, must have taken some strength not use the word Tommy usually did and what all guys use when girls refuse to give them the time of day to get into their pants, for reasons they could not fathom, which was frigid.
Frigid was meant to be this insult we wanted to avoid, less it influences all future relationships for the worse, but what I understand is that frigid is a boy's way of trying to disguise and strip away the real word girls act on when they say 'no' or I'm not ready. which is respect, for themselves.