Reality. This is reality. This bed is real... This blanket is real... This pillow is real. Everything in sight is real, yet a lot of us believe things we can't see are real and possible, like God and perfectly made French Fries. I find all of this incredibly silly and farfetched, but the dreamer in me says it's possible. When I heard that dreamer in me, I squished him and threw him in the trash bin beside me.
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The walk from my bed to the closet is long. I drag myself out of my personal cloud and grab the lenses from my glasses. I put them on and take a step towards the door. I suddenly slip on something and fall on the floor. Face first of course. I look down and identify the object. Toy car. Must've been placed by my baby brother. I force my way back up to my feet and try to get a grip on the closet doorknob. I grab, turn, and pull it until I see my rags hanged and on the floor. I have nothing good to wear, so I slap on some black jeans, black shoes, and a black shirt. I realize this is more of a "My Aunt Died" outfit than an "I'm Ready To Learn" outfit, so I grab my navy blue v-neck sweater and put it over my shirt.
I get to my room's door and walk out. I smell the usual: the smell of NO FOOD. Since there's nothing on the table that could possibly help me live in any way shape or form, I scoot my lazy self to the bathroom.
The bathroom is my safe spot. I come in here to be safe from my families daily feuds. It's very relaxing in here, and there's a lock for me to get at least 2 minutes of privacy from the monsters at my home. During my time in the sanctuary with a bathtub, I fixed my hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I walk out and take a quick look in the mirror. Fine look.
I'm surprised this morning. Nobody but me is awake and that never happens on weekday mornings. I walk to my front door and stare out to the view of 2 cheap cars to my left. Directly in front of me is my house's fence. As I turn to my right, an engine roars. I turn and see our 3rd vehicle is on and filled with goblins- wait, no, family members. They're all sitting... "patiently" as they wait for me to join them outside. I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulder.
"Hurry up, you fat lard", yells my brother from the back seat of the truck.
I don't respond. I disregard the comment because I may be a lard, but I'm sure not fat. Sometimes I'm called "Stick" or "Twig" because of how skinny I am. As I keep arguing to myself about how I'm not fat, I get fully ready, grab a coffee, and get to the truck to drive to Hell on earth: High School.
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Why is it that a crazy amount of people have... Hope? Hope is useless in my perspective: you are relying ON LUCK to make a dream or desire come true. It doesn't make any sense what-so-ever. I only rely one cold, hard facts.
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As I'm dropped off at school, I walk to the cafeteria. I grab a small peanut butter sandwich and take a seat next to Christy. Christy has light brown hair and caramel colored eyes. She's better looking than most people in school, like most of my friends.
"Damian, you look terrible!".
I grab my phone and look at myself in the mirror: she's right. My hair was terrible. I guess I didn't get such a good look in the mirror this morning.
"I don't understand. I thought I looked fine when I walked out of my house."
"Well... You don't", exclaims Christy as she does the last problem on her homework and finished her breakfast. She walks away and that lets me realize that I have food of my own. I get a hold of the 2 sliced of bread on my tray and motion them to my mouth. When I take a bite, I let my tongue take a taste of the peanut butter sandwich.
That's when it happened.
Yes, it was a peanut butter sandwich, but it had...
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JELLY. It had- I'm sorry... I think I'm gonna puke a little in my mouth just trying to remember... It had jelly...
I can't handle jelly. The slimy taste of it makes me want to question its existence. There's no specific way to explain why I hate it. I just do... Disgusting.
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I stand up from my seat and add to the trash can in the middle of the cafeteria. After biting into that sandwich, I lost my appetite. I decided to go and sit down with a group of friends. I sat down and started to use my phone (like usual), but something was... Off.
I started to converse with the people around me. I kept talking when I noticed a smudge of makeup on Marge's cheek (I've known Marge for my entire life and her wearing makeup seems a little off). I ignore it for now, thinking it was probably her mom's idea to doll up a bit.
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Appearances lie.
It can be as simple as a sandwich with peanut butter and the smallest dose of jelly on it, or as complex as a cheerful teacher who is abused by her husband at home. I despise "false looks" because of judgement. I could never judge someone without seeing who they really are with my own eyes. If they never show their true self, how will I know who they are? It's not like it's possible to figure someone out without them telling me... Right?
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The bell rings and it's time for me to go to 1st period: Sports
-SPORTS-
I get to "class" before anyone else does. I look around and realize that I got here first. I take a look at the track and see Jackson, a "husky" (nice way to say chubby), slow, lazy semi-enemy of mine. I guess I was second to class. The thing with Jackson is that even though he can't run or jump over hurdles, he still tries... It annoys me.
Everyone starts to show up and our coaches announce that we are running 2 laps (half a mile) today as our daily workout. Many people sign and pout, but I stand still with no expression on my face. We all line up on the starting line and wait for the whistle to blow. I take a deep breath, look around, and breathe again. Soon enough, the whistle is blown and everyone takes off sprinting. I decide to take a smarter approach and use my brain to help me here. I jog my first lap and start to guess my placement. I thought I was in...
117th
For someone who started the lap with a jog and on a track with 150 people, I'm in a good position. It's time to sprint the final lap, like I always do. I look for the paint stains on the track that signal my legs to speed up, and as I cross them, I dash away as fast as possible. I first pass some walkers and joggers when I realize I've passed a pair of runners. I near the finish line and try to make my legs go even faster. I make it to the end and take a deep breath. That was tiring. I see coach write stuff down on a clipboard as he's ready to read my time aloud.
"Dame, 2:08. Finished 27th."
I passed 90 kids. 90. It's surprising to me because I've never been good at sports and suddenly I made it in the top 30. Things change, but I didn't know things changed that fast.
I walk down to the grassy part of the field and do my leg stretches and exercises and then walk back inside and get dressed. I walk back out and I see that Jackson still isn't done even after I changed. As I walk closer to the building to get to my next class, coach shouted some nasty- and I mean nasty comments to him. I see Jackson ignore everything and walk back inside. I feel bad for the dude and don't do anything about it... why?
I talk to a couple of friends during my 15 minute hall break and catch Jackson staring at me through the hallways... Interesting.
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So far, everything is fine in my life, but I have a feeling in my brain- not in my brain, in my gut, that something is going to happen. Maybe it was Jackson staring at me, I don't know... I should like surprises and I'm nervous that I'll find one soon.
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I near my locker and grab my books. I have a lot, but grab the basics; Geometry, Human History, and Health. I close my locker and walk towards my next class. While I'm calmly walking to class, Marge decides it's a great time to yank my arm and startle me.
"Damian, I need to talk to you", she starts, "it is really important. You probably noticed me wearing makeup this morn-"
I don't even let her finish her sentence as I yank away from her. Not because I don't care but because I'm going to be late to class. I turn and shout that I'll be late just so that Marge doesn't think I'm blowing her off or anything. I turn my head back and I run into someone. I drop my books and she does too. I look up to say my apologies when I catch the gaze of her eyes.
Here was my surprise.
YOU ARE READING
Jelly
Teen FictionDamian, a high schooler at Largent HS doesn't believe in anything unless it has visible proof. If it isn't proven, it isn't real. He goes on like this from childhood to the present, but when he starts to face more obstacles and challenges, his thoug...