Shoelaces

Letters

"No, you don't understand. You have to try this!" Jazmine yells to me from across the table with her mouth full. She extends her arms shoving the burger into my face.

"What even is it?" I look at the burger, and then have to tilt my head in order to look at my best friend. Jazmine swallows, thankfully, before starting to speak again.

"It's a burger patty, with a chicken patty on top of that, with a fish patty on top of it. Surf, turf, and sky," she says, proudly.

"That sounds disgusting."

"It is, which means you have to try it." She pushes the sandwich (truthfully, I don't know the proper name for this monstrosity) further into my face, so I'm forced to open my mouth and bite down. The taste fills my mouth, and my body instantly tells me to spit it out. But no, you can do this Darrion, maybe. Chew. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Done.

"That is disgusting."

"I know!" Jazmine laughs, as I take a sip of my drink to wash the taste out of my mouth.

"You are Frankenstein, and this is truly your monster."

"Thank you, thank you. You are all too much." She clasps her hands together, shaking them on either side of her head, in a faux-congratulatory pose. We just finished our first week of rehearsals for the musicals, so I decided to treat her to dinner on Friday. After practice, in which I received evil glares from Gregory Richman for the entire time, she and I drove down to the local diner. Jaz was first going to go to a party tonight, and she probably still will, but she postponed going, to hang-out with me. Probably because I'm still semi-stable. We finish our meals while exchanging conversation, Jaz telling me a story about her dad accidentally eating a dog treat. The waitress comes with the check, followed by me slapping Jaz's hand when she tries to reach for it. Sneaky, sneaky, but not fast enough. She drives me back to school so I can pick up my bike, and then we part ways. I wish her safe travels as she takes off for her party. What different lives we live. Where I would rather watch Dance Mom Argument compilations on my computer for hours on end on this Friday night, Jazmine would rather make fifty new friends. Wild.

I unlock my bike from the lock that it's been in all day. Poor little guy. I hop on the seat and start to peddle to my house. Spring, technically, isn't here yet, but it sure as hell looks like it. The trees are turning green, growing new leaves, almost becoming new trees. The flowers that pop up every year are starting to burst out of the ground in random places throughout the street. All this nature distracts me on the ride home. I may or may not have done some illegal actions, but I'm on a bike, so how much does it even matter.

I pull into the driveway of my house, possibly a little bit too fast. I can't believe that next year at this time I won't even be living here anymore. Like, I'm going to college. That's crazy. Yes, yes, I've been aching to get out of my house since I can remember, but I can't believe it's so soon. Only about five months at this point, which is honestly ridiculous.

Well, five months if everything goes according to plan. Though, in my life, a lot of things don't. Darrion Gubart is an agent of change, I guess. What happened with Santiago, definitely did not go to plan. What happened with the musical, definitely did go to plan. And now, there's just one more thing to go. Dartmouth. I'm batting 500 right now (that's a phrase, right? Me and sports don't mingle very often) which means that this next part of my life is truly a toss-up. The worst part is there's nothing I can do at this point. I've already turned in my application months ago, and I can't do anything else. My life and wellbeing are solely in the hands of the poor admission officer at Dartmouth, that has to read about my privileged struggles. What if they had a bad day? What if they're an intern? What if they were rejected when they applied, so they want others to feel the pain that they're feeling? What if cyber terrorists hack into Dartmouth's servers and delete my application? In my opinion, all of these are very viable possibilities. And it's mid-March. Mid-fucking-march. When the decision is going to come out. At this point, it's been a contrast looming threat in my mind. For the last few weeks, other things have taken its place, and have distracted me. But I got the part, and I blocked the person, which means Dartmouth is all that's in my mind. And maybe Santiago still, a little. Solid 80/20. Anyways, Jaz was recruited back at the beginning of this year for soccer, which was the best news I heard in my life. She deserved it, completely. So smart and so, scarily, good at soccer. The University of North Carolina is lucky to have her. I, on the other hand, would be lucky to have Dartmouth. Blessed if the ivy vines wrapped around my neck and choked me to death. An honor to have a poison tipped Dart be shot into my Mouth.