Delusion Part 7
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Slide awake:
Slide awake its seven thirty, for real this time, I am now using Justin's alarm clock. I shower and the world is presenting itself and I am the only one listening. Justin is still asleep. I ride my bike to the place of tortuous self abuse, but it's not that bad. First period I have study hall, me and an American history teacher. The library is connected to the study hall, we are permitted to go there every other day, the librarian is the most carrot up the ass mother fucker I have ever met. He is gay, but I don't even know if he knows it. He is not in control, he is but a whisper, he is tantamount to a dream. I could save him if a had effort and the right amount of Vaseline.
I gather myself and enter on my day, why do I come to school for this period, it does nothing for me. Drug Use is an actual book title in this library; according to this distribution, mankind uses drugs to supplant the inevitability of death. What rampant myth and display. I wish everything was as simple as dissemination, indoctrination and patronization. A propaganda with no logical source or direction. No one reads here, well at least not novels. I am one of the only people to ever check a book out of here. Luckily the masses have People, Cosmo, Us Weekly, and the like. Well I guess I have perused the magazine rack myself so I can't be that judgmental.
I sit down at a table and I'm joined by Todd and a couple of his stoner friends, a preppy girl named Alyssa, and a big funny guy named Jackson. Emma and I have sold to all of them. Friendly repartee and whimsical conversation, Todd is sometimes too much. I wonder if Mark has told him about us.
Alyssa is trying to copy Jackson's math homework, and we are distracting her too much. It's pretty funny, it's not like she has to concentrate, she just has to duplicate his work, synthesize, and make necessary errors for originality and she should be fine.
"So Todd, how fucked is Michelle after this party, her mom has to know something is up," States Jackson.
"Well her mom is still in Cancun, so we haven't been busted yet, we cleaned her house pretty good, and we're having another party there next Friday."
Jackson then interjects, "Well who knows maybe we'll have a party house all summer. Michelle's mom is probably pretty busy with all the donkey shows she's putting on down there in Mexico"
"That's fucking insane," I state while laughing.
"Hey maybe I can show up this time," Alyssa interjects.
"What to Michelle's next party or her mom's donkey show you kinky girl" Jackson states laughing.
"The party you pervert," Alyssa responds while giving the evil eye to Jackson, "Besides, I hear that donkey show cost a pretty penny." "Wow, look who got a sense of humor" Jackson states.
"It would be awesome if you came next time, Alyssa,," replies Todd, what spark is lit by looks. Do they not know that me and Jackson just saw that flash between them. Alyssa plays with her hair and Todd has this whole tilt and smirk thing going on. This is a fucking joke, note to self never trust Todd, he might be narcissistic, he needs to be desired.
Jackson lacks any filter on his speech and I love him for that. "So, isn't Michelle going to be pissed when Alyssa shows up and gives you a blowjob? Or is she cool with that kind of shit? She's kinky ain't she, those gymnast have got a little edge don't they." Jackson states and then punches Todd in the shoulder.
Todd is pissed, "fuck you man." Alyssa is incredibly embarrassed, that kind of look that yes, she would love to give Todd a blowjob and how did Jackson know that. I am just amused by the whole scenario. The bell rings and the transition to the next period has begun. I feel like cattle, buzz, horseshoe us through the hall, scattering electric prods, off to the next brain washing. Second period is gym. I hate gym, Coach Ryan has been trying to recruit me for football all year and my sighs and rejection apparently have not been enough for him.
"Hey Sammie, how's it going?" He tries too hard. One redeeming factor about gym is that Emma is in this class with me, the only class we have together. Coach Ryan is always coming up with the most wacked out games, today is no exception, he has four volleyball nets set up and we are passing around two huge, six foot in diameter beach balls, but actually, I'm kind of enjoying this, it is becoming less gym class and more early nineties Blind Melon concert. Emma and me always find some way to get on the same team, and today is no exception.
"Sammie, I need you to come over tonight."
"Why, what's going on?"
"Well just come over around nine, I'll tell you then, it's nothing bad, don't freak on me."
"Okay, so why so late, don't you want to get blitzed after school?"
"Well, I think Ralphie might be coming over and picking me up, we might drive to Portland to meet up with one of his friends."
"Well, why wasn't I invited?" I try to state with exaggerated offense.
"Don't worry Sammie, this guy isn't cute,"
"Really Emma after all of these years, you think I'm that shallow and singular in my purpose, damn you know me too well." I state while laughing.
That fucking whistle blows again, "All right, everybody change," States Coach Ryan.
The other redeeming aspect of gym and the best part by far, is Shea Miller, he is the smartest dumb person I have ever met, straight A's with the common sense of a four year old. We don't have to really change, but most of us have gym shorts and a tee shirt, we don't get naked. But every time this hottie changes his gym shorts, his cock pops out of his boxers. I don't know how to thank him. I have been jerking off to this guy all year. It's like clockwork, doesn't anyone else catch this. It is amazing, he has this display everyday but I think I'm the only one to notice it, well, appreciate it. It doesn't last for that long but each day I see it, his head slips out, fuck, wow. He doesn't know it but he is my muse for the next period, art. Typically, my art teacher is what I suppose to be a pot head. I sit down with a prude, an art critic and one of Mattie's friends. His name is Dan. I have been working on the same project for three weeks now, I am stuck on the same ceramic bowl, it's lifeless and uncreative, at least according to the art critic.
"Hey man, you look too stressed out, is this about a girl? That's how I look when I'm stressed out about a chick." Dan is questioning me, if he only knew what I was dealing with.
"Well kind of."
"I knew it, that look is the look of love." Dan is embarrassing, but he is right, navigation is not always hidden and blind. The people around me are going to start to notice some changes in me if I keep escaping down this rabbit hole. My expressions may be unadulterated but class is almost over, I have been saved by the bell more times than Zak Morris. Fourth period starts, it's English with a lady barely older than Kyle. She is a stickler but I like it, English is the subject I like the most. Beowulf and playboy stories, she isn't the most predictable but definitely enjoyable. Fifth period, French, peut j'aller a la salle de bains? Can I go in the bathroom? "Oui," thank god. I have to escape, this is too much sometimes, I hate to be too forward but I jerk off. I don't normally do this, but subversion as an art is too attractive and I enjoy it. Orgasm, and a control I am in control of.
Fifth period is split in half, lunch meets me. Our lunch period is separated into three different times. My lunch period is completely devoid of any of my normal friends, Emma, Todd, Mark, even Jackson; everyone is in a different period than me. I sit down with Amber, a good friend of Emma's, she is pretty cool, and she is one of those protesters, she is a bleeding heart.
"What's up Amber,"
"Nothing much, hey do you want to sign a petition ending the inhumane treatment of chickens"
"Of course I want to sign it," Amber is always espousing some cause, she is that white horse, an altruistic being. She tries so hard, this little optimistic kitten always helps me through the day, she is always fighting for some cause, from the cruelty of animals to the unfair practices of the IMF. I don't eat meat in front of her because I respect her too much for that, she is so sweet and naïve to me. I am a cynical fifteen years old, a product of the twenty first century.
Sixth period is what I've been waiting for. It's world history and I have it with Mark. It's weird I've never really hung out with him in this class all this year, but I am going to attack him.
I hang out with a girl named Desiree. I know what a trashy name, but she is hilarious. And I hang out with Rachel, a five foot nothing girl that has way too much energy. We usually copy notes in a darkened room with a projector, and today is no exception. Mark smiles nervously, like I'm going to devour him. Desiree is constantly making jokes about this teacher who is a total perv, he loves to massage students' shoulders, it is amazingly inappropriate. Mr. Mathews is his name; he is probably a good guy, but creepiness overtakes reasonable interpretation any day.
We always arrange our desk upon conviction in this class, there is little subjugation, and I love it. Why is Mark distancing himself from me? I ignore the intentional displacement. I hate hiding. He sits away from Rachel and Desiree and me. Rejection is among the worst feelings in the world; you share and get stomped on, believe and you are apprehended. I gather myself and head over to where he sits. "Hey Mark, what's going on?" I state while leaning and smiling.
I am bashful and unabashedly removing, at least I try to be to him.
"Hey," Mark states while quickly looking down. One of his friends, Toby is getting his attention; he wants Mark to join him in unscrewing desk tops from their placement on the seat. Mark offers me a sign to hold on for a minute, he's busy. This isn't about love or passion; we stand worlds apart at this moment, hidden motives, and convenient disguises. I hope we live forever, capacity for reincarnation, hopeful reimagining. Reintegration, disintegration, divulge of response and of nonsense. I know this won't get any better.
I rally my interest; Desiree and Rachel, and at least they have comedic redeeming ability. Mark corners me away from Rachel and Des and of course away from his friends.
"Sammie, we... I've been thinking, and we can't be seen together, it's just too much for me," I don't say a word, I just break away from him. He doesn't make any mention of my existence upon our exit or in the hallway. I won't chase what doesn't want to be caught. Seventh period is my least favorite class, geometry, even though I might be receptive and proficient, geometry is a drain, luckily very few teachers give notice to students in seventh period.
Mrs. Reinhardt however, she understands me at this moment and transcends empathy, "Sammie are you all right?" She states in her Welsh accent, she is very intuitive this woman. "Go to the sick room my dear." She writes me a pass and I make my escape, of course I don't go to the sick room. I instead jump on my bike and furiously ride. The wind will take away my cares, my emotions and waivers, permission slips and innuendo. I no longer can stand him, I am a rush, and inconsolable. Let me just go home to Justin, he is the one with open arms, an open life no matter how far away.
Hidden is not my thing, I am a self, not a conjurer or falsity. I understand where Mark is coming from, but I'm not out at school, this is not mission impossible. We can keep up with appearances no matter how painful. Especially if I at least know that he truly feels the same way that I feel about him. Torture is tolerable with just rewards. The ringer of verisimilitude, I never put myself in a position of possible humiliation and neglect, why would I for him? Am I some kind of obvious queen that Mark can't be seen with. I enter my house, my supposed refuge, escape; Emma will be calling me soon, I can feel it, and maybe even Mark will call to give some half assed apology. In any case I'm not waiting around for anyone to soothe me, I'm not someone that only finds acceptance in the eyes of others, am I?
More to come
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