Fragments

Flame

"I'm vaguely embarrassed by myself sometimes."

I get embarrassed easily. It's probably my greatest flaw, my kryptonite, as Sammy would say. Of course, Sammy and Serena are part of the problem.

(They told me I have to stop calling them 'Sammy and Serena', they think it makes them sound like a dodgy folk music group.)

Anyway, having friends like them when you suffer from crippling embarrassment in social situations is never a good thing. Serena has the loudest mouth on this planet, probably this entire universe. Coupled with her dirty mind, it makes for some awkward situations involving teachers, parents and sweet old ladies on the bus. I think "Get your mind out the gutter" has become a sort of catchphrase for me, high up there on the list along with "it's not fair!" which you find yourself saying a lot when you're a middle child.

And Sammy's just as bad, although you'll never hear him talking about where our form tutor could possibly be hiding a secret stash of vibrators (within earshot of said teacher). He has a habit of being as socially awkward as me, but he somehow makes it an endearing, laughable quality while I flounder around conversations like they're bombs about to explode, leaving my dignity in shattered pieces.

But it's not as if I can hide my mortification: I'm a blusher. We're talking flame red. No matter what people say to reassure me, I know I look like a sunburnt tomato that's been splashed in the face with red food colouring when I blush. I'm not even joking, unfortunately: I honestly do look like a sunburnt tomato who... well, you get the picture.

Adding on the fact that I have red hair, it's a surprise I haven't decided to pack my bags and run away to join a circus as the world's fastest red-faced person.

Actually that's not a bad idea (I'm calling it plan B, in case the whole running thing doesn't work out).

It all sounds really comical, but actually it's terrifying.

We'll just be walking in between class, and Serena will be making crude jokes and Sammy will accidentally brawl with a bin that he always huffs he didn't see, and everyone will be looking, or turning round to look and my heart will rocket in my chest while my palms sweat and my throat tightens and I'll look anywhere but at the other people, and I already start to feel the horrible burning sensation flushing my cheeks and making my neck prickle.

And Serena will just laugh in her couldn't-care-less way, and Sammy will smile his sheepish grin and everyone will laugh and think how crazy we three are. But I'll still have my wrists throbbing with a racing pulse, a stupid embarrassment at even having people look at me causing me stare at the ground until the tomato look subsides and either Serena or Sammy will drag me along with them.

I wish I could be like them, like everyone else who doesn't care about the nameless people who see them and judge them and think we're strange.

Or maybe everyone else does care, and they're just better at hiding it then I am.