The Punk and the Ballerina

Handout

Sebastian's point of view. August 2005.

Another school year, another year of superficial bitches and pointless homework I would fail. I just had two more years and I was out of here. I would leave school right now and perform with my band full-time but my parents wanted to me graduate first and I promised them I would. My parents barely graduated when they were pregnant with me, they didn't want me to repeat history. I wasn't about to get a girl knocked up, especially since the girls ignored me, which was fine with me, I wasn't attracted to them anyway, too blonde and tan for my taste, I preferred my women goth and real.

Barely an hour into the new year and Malibu Barbie started shit already, yelling at us to turn down our music. That was my clique's name for her. Malibu Darlington, the bane of my existence. She goes by Mali, only going by Malibu if she needed something or if she was feeling extra privileged. She looked like a real life Barbie except she had red hair and mean eyes. Malibu, the most California girl name I had ever heard of. Always spoiled and nasty to those beneath her, which included me and my friends. If you weren't rich, upperclass, or had powerful connections, she had no use for you.

Despite that annoying first hour with Malibu Barbie, the first day of school went by pretty fast. I had chemistry, English, math, history, music, study hall, gym, and art. Despite what my report card said, I love science, especially it involved blowing shit up. I would've gotten a better grade if it weren't for my fucking dyslexia. No wonder I did better at math; numbers were better than words.

To my relief, I only had Mali in my study hall. As luck would have it, her little cult also had study hall with me. Olivia Berketti, her second in command. If it wasn't Mali making my life hell, it was Olivia. She knew everybody in school and knew how to adapt to manipulate them, a cold-blooded bitch that would eat you then kill you. Her mother was a famous psychiatrist, she knew how to hurt people from the inside. I was just waiting for her and Mali to finally butt heads, a catastrophic event years in the making, maybe it would even trigger World War III.

Ari Townsend. The lesser of evils in that group. She would give me dirty looks, laugh at Mali and Olivia's obnoxious jokes. She thought she was so great because she was this superstar dancer with a bright future. She didn't know what hard work looked like, especially with her rich daddy dangling everything in front of her.

Parker Hudson was new to their group. He wasn't so bad, mostly going along with Mali and Olivia. I don't try to judge people, but anybody that willingly hangs out with the Queens of Berkeley, I'm going to question their sanity.

I met my friends at lunch. Jeremy waved me over. Joining us at our table were the goths and skater punks: Kelly, her boyfriend Cody, Natasha, and a guy I never met before. He had jagged, jet black hair with orange and yellow streaks.

"This is Mace, he's new this year," Jeremy introduced me to the goth stranger.

"Nice to meet you," I waved to him.

"Same to you," he crunched on a tater tot. "Jeremy and Cody tell me you sing?"

"Yeah, we're trying to get a band together."

Since last year, Jeremy, Cody, and myself were working on a band. I just got a brand new electric guitar I bought after starting my job at Best Buy. I worked so many hours and it felt amazing to buy my baby with my own money. I used to play an old acoustic my mom got me at a pawn shop, but I knew I needed an electric if I was going to be taken seriously. Cody was learning how to play bass and Jeremy was on drums. We had a few songs written, but we hadn't played any gigs yet, hell we didn't even have a band name yet.

"Mace plays everything: bass, electric, keyboard—" Cody said before Mace cut him off.

"I only know like two songs on the keyboard," Mace shrugged. "Guitar is my speciality."

"Cool, maybe we can jam sometime?" I asked. If this guy was as good as Cody said he was, we could have a solid band.

"Anytime, let me know."

"You guys have a name yet?" Kelly asked. She had been dating Cody since the beginning of summer. She lived near the skate park and would see him there and always looked for him, crushing on him from afar. He noticed her watching one day and they would talk to each other every time they saw each other. He was teaching her to skateboard, she was a fast learner.

"I still like the name I suggested," Natasha piped up. She was the shortest in our group, 4'11 and likely not growing past that. She changed her hair colors so much, often changing it to match her braces. She was supposed to get her braces off sometime this year, it'll be weird to not see her with them.

"We're not calling our band Demon Kittens," Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"What? It's cute, dark, and in your face," Natasha said before she drew a face in her mashed potatoes. She was such a weirdo but she was our weirdo. We jokingly called her munchkin because of her height and roundness.

I realized I forgot to buy a Gatorade. I went to the vending machine, walking past the Queens' lunch table. They smelled like cotton candy perfume. It's like they nuked themselves in that crap, you could smell it from a mile away.

They were giggling about something but I paid them no mind, I just wanted my drink. I dropped my change. My fucking quarter rolled under the vending machine. I swore under my breath, the only change I had on me.

"Looks like the bum lost his money," Mali said in her nasally voice.

"Maybe he should make a cardboard sign and stand on the street," Olivia snorted.

"He could use new jeans, look at the holes," Ari looked me up and down.

They couldn't leave it alone. I was just trying to get a drink and they were laughing at my misfortune. Fuck this, I was better than them. I walked away, hands in my pockets, my pride shaken but not stirred.

As I walked past the trash cans, Ari dumped her food in the garbage. Salad, of course. She tapped my arm as I moved past her. I knew better than to stop to talk to her, but my curiosity got the best of me, She tried handing me a quarter. Now she was rubbing it in. She and her air-headed friends could take their endless wealth and shove it up their tight assholes.

"I don't need your hand out," I said in a low voice.

I heard her grumble over my shoulder. "Prick."

Same to you, sweetheart.