Perfume

Chapter Five - Remembered

They call it the walk of shame. Many people have walked it some young, some old, some tall, some short. And that Friday it was my turn to walk it. 

     It was a few hours after my realization, after the phone call with Hanna, when I went off to school, sun glasses on despite the fact that there was no sun up in the sky. I swong by a coffee shop and bought myself the hotest, most caffeinated coffee there was. I needed energy. Not to become as good as new as some people used the drink for, but to help with my headache. And I also needed at least a tiny bit of energy to help myself drag by today. It was a Friday, not much was going on. I just needed to look alive.

     Mandy had a big, amused smile perched on her face when I saw her. Her hands on her hips, her eyes shinning bright. Her blond hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders.

     My stomach tightened at the sight of her. I had to do it soon; had to tell her the truth. I could't stand to see that face, that happy, chirpy, in love face knowing I was lying to her, knowing I was playing with her, knowing I had feelings for someone else. For Hanna. The girl with the precious green eyes. 

     But so what if I had feelings with Hanna, if I wanted to be with her? And I did, but it didn't matter. She had a boyfriend, Nathan Venenoso. She was taken. I couldn't show her what I felt, tell her what I felt, because there was no point to it. She had Nathan, Nathan had her.

     "Wow," Mandy said, laughing like good ol' Mandy, "First hangover is a bitch."

     I groaned, sipping my coffee. It almost soothed my pounding head. But I still felt like crap. Awesome.

     "How does it feel?" Mandy asked as we began to walk to the school.

     "Like you said," I told her, "Like a bitch."

     She laughed again. 

     We arrived to Hawkins and that's where I walked the walk. Fifteen-year-old boy, wearing sun glasses, drinking coffee, avoiding any harsh movements or loud noises. It was pretty easy to guess what was going on. And all I could do was pretend I didn't see any of the students gawking at me, or the teachers that gave me disapproving look. And then there was the Sex Ed teacher that looked at me as if I'd murdered a child.

     Ah, what a lovely Friday. 

     I wasn't the first one to walk the walk and I wouldn't be the last one. That made it kind of bearable. I couldn't wait to see the next moron who would come to school with a hangover. 

     I got dirty looks from all of my teachers from first to fourth teachers. And I'm pretty sure my English teacher, Mr. Harver, deliberately decided to be a very loud and clumsy man today. He dropped three books and a metal ruler to the ground. The sounds triggered such a huge wave of pain that I almost cried from the pain. But despite all those looks and a case of Mr. Harver being a dick, I got off quite easily. 

     Until fifth period.

     That's when the real shame began.

     I walked into newspaper, with a scowl on my face. I wanted to go home, I wanted to sleep, damn it. I wished I could rip off my face, my head, to get rid of the pain. This pain doubled as I sat down by the meeting table and I set my forehead down on the cold surface. I took deep breaths, keeping my eyes closed, trying to think of a happy place that would alleviate my pain. 

     And then all of the sudden, I heard monster-loud, thumping bass that set off my head into a feral ache. It was as if tigers were devoring my brain, sinking their sharpened claws into it, tearing it out in chunks. I moaned and covered my ears, trying to drown out the sound. But it was too loud. Mingled with the bass I heard guffawes, cackles, almost as loud as the music. I looked up, eyes narrowed, and saw Angus standing in front of me, holding an old a brown, old-school, portable stereo, its speakers thumping along with the music. It was a band I liked, but, oh, I loathed them at the moment. Hated their music at that instant. Around him were the rest of the newspaper team, all laughing, making fun of the kid who drank too much.