The Foreigner

12

  A multitude of black shirts with gold detailing of a Cleopatra in the back, accompanied by a descriptive poem of this iconic figure, filled all of us standing on the stage, with the same themed clothes, with imense happiness. The front of the shirt, specifically in the left upper corner, a prominent C inside of a pyramid, coloured in amber, stands for our team, competing to win this version of Student Government. The two listas competing were Lista C -us-, and our rivals, Lista M for Minions.

  The area divided in two stages has a middle area, in which people, supporting a team or the other, are enjoying the artist we've persuaded to sing in the fifteen minute break we had.
  Our improvised stage held, probably, a dozen students members. The space, totally, decorated with the Cleopatra team: ballons of the letter "C" in gold, painted with egyptian symbols, provided by our art department, the pyramids made of wood in some parts of the stage and others of plastic hanging on the ceiling.

  The bell rings, indicating the teenagers to walk out and head into their classes. The artist bids his goodbyes to the public and the selected DJ from our group puts a song to ease into the silence that will arrive in a couple minutes. Some of the members of our team went the same way as everyone else, including Sílvia and Batista, who decided to have a spontaneous date, since mine and Sílvia's teacher took a day off. "John Wayne" by Cigarettes After Sex rolled on the background.

  Behind my back, a small voice could be heard, "Baby, he's got to be crazy, living like he's John Wayne. Always facing the world and chasing the girl; baby, he's got to be crazy." Turning around, there was Lucas with his signature baggy jeans, Air Jordans 4 Retro Motorsports and our team's shirt. 

  His voice so soft, directed to me had no comparison to the intensity of his eyes. Our eyes spoke in volumes, as if deepening the connection we've been developing overtime. In a subconscious way, I find myself trying to get answers from his pupils. I am entirely sure of the connection, no doubt rests in my head, but it doesn't mean I am sure of what that said link means, complies. His pupils become dilated, turning this prolonged gaze into a new language.

  "He's got so much in his heart, but he doesn't know what to do." I continue the song, nearing him even more. We spoke to eachother between the lines, something others might find obvious, but we don't want to touch on the subject.

  "All he wants is her, lying inside his room." On my right side, there he finally stood, ready to embrace my body with his long and muscled arm. I was no different: my hand, unconsciously found the way to his toned back, like always.

  It was easily my favourite routine of ours.

  "None of us have classes for the next three hours, right? Teachers skipping, and then lunch. What about a little coffee and pastéis de nata to enjoy the free time?" Jota approached the both of us, a little, and almost discreet, smirk into Machado's direction.

  There was no verbal and physical negative response to the proposition, so we made our way to the closest café near us, since we had to come back to promote, once again, the team, every break. No one warned any of us that planning a three-day campaign was bad, however, living it might be worse. And we're only in the morning of the first day. It is still fun besides the tiring preparation and the jumping around or losing the voices.

  Still on the walk to our favourite hang out place, the idea of sucking the helium of a balloon my unoccupied hand was holding, seemed an incredible one. Commiting to my wishes, I do it and then, try to speak, joining the conversation.

  "That doesn't make any sense, Jota. The cereals don't go before the milk, if they did, then they would be soggy. It has to have that crunch."

  My unpredictable voice made João Rafael, also known as Rafa or Jota, jump. He turns around, hand covering the pyramid design located on the heart, seeming out of breath. The hand posteriously located on the cardio organ made its way to my mouth, well, his index finger. Sofia rotated to see the scene and couldn't keep her laughter in, encouraging Lucas who some seconds ago had his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
  I open my mouth, slightly, and touched my tongue with Rafa's finger. At the feeling he took it out of the place immediately and screamed, cleaning it on his dar, loose fit jeans.