Complications

18|tattoos

Tyla Bradley

The horn honked again but I still was so shocked it didn't completely register. Walker is coming towards us, driving one of those storage moving machines. You know what I'm talking about? Those things with the two long spears that jut out in front of it and go under to move things. He has a dunk tank on it and he's coming towards us, like I said. I'm shocked! I thought for sure he was lying about the tank, it had to have been a lie, but here he is with the tank, even after all my work.

My face pales a little as he spins it about and slowly lowers the tank to the ground. It's empty at the moment but water is imaginarily sloshing everywhere, ruining everything. I'd been so proud of my booth, of the stickers and the tattoos, and yet I know it's nothing compared to his.

He turns off the machine and jumps off the machine and basically sprints excitedly over to me. "Hey," he says grinning like a fool. His eyes swipe over me and then shift to the booth behind me, my booth. I can see he knows exactly what it is and yet he still asks, "What's this?"

I'm not ashamed of it, and yet I just shrug and press my tongue against my cheek.

He sees Zoey behind me and than he brushed past me, I just stare forward. My eyes lock on his tank, I guess I should've just let him do his tank, and not wasted all this energy on putting my pathetic attempt together. This is why I shouldn't be in charge of these things.

"What is all this stuff?" He asks laughing. My head spins around, my hair flying around with me and watch as he picks up a sticker, one of my designs and looks at it. He faces flinches a little obviously not impressed and he drops it back down and moves on. My face sours, why do I want his approval? Why do I need it? Why do I have this sinking feeling in my chest as he analyzes my booth, my drawings, my ideas? I clench my jaw and drag my hair through my hair, messing up the perfect part and sending my hair all over. I shouldn't be and yet this pit in my stomach makes me think otherwise.

"There stickers and tattoos," Zoey hisses aggravated.

I try to make my face blank but as he turns around and looks at both of us he realizes his mistake, "oh you guys did this?" He smiles and glances back, "that's uh... super cool. Super cool, I like it!" He blabbered coming up with words as he goes.

Liar.

Smooth Walker, very convincing. His body language is clearly yelling he's feeling awkward and he picks up another sticker and begins fiddling with it. He doesn't like being put in this position.

"We're going to go grab dinner," I blurt, "Can you watch our booth while we're gone?"

He nods numbly, opening his mouth as if to say something, but realizing probably that he doesn't know what to say. His expression now and his earlier reaction had already done it all.

He doesn't like it, no one is going to like it. I don't know why I tried. I don't wait for Zoey to confirm or deny I just take off. Making myself not run no matter how much my feet want to. It's so hard. And I feel this pain building in my body. Like all the disappointment I'd imagined the entire student body having just occurred and got dumped onto me.

"Hey," Zoey grabs my arm and forces me to slow down. I'm walking faster than I thought. Without meaning to my head tilts back to glance at Walker. He's staring after us and I look away before we catch each other's gaze. "It's okay, ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about." Zoey encourages.

I force a smile, "I can't."

She sighs, "where should we go for food?"

I'm glad she doesn't question what just happened back there. Her face is begging me to say more but she wouldn't understand. No one understands. The fakeness I feel in student body. The box I seem a little trapped in. The girl everyone knows and the one I really am.