Perfect (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 4.50: Stars

Chapter 4.50: Stars

        “We… are not Losers!” Ethan shouted. He leaned forward to imply his courage over his fear.

              “Oh yeah? Well, take a taste of my fist, gay!”

              Ethan straightened quickly as Enid ran to chase Sara. He was left alone. He stood alone as the dirt flew beneath him, as his vermillion scarf swayed rapidly like Chinese bamboos over a hill of thorns and venomous snakes. He sighed and muttered a small, extraordinary sentence, this is it.

              Zak dashed and amended Ethan’s twisted view of him. It changed because of anger and courage. His feet accentuated each step down the dirty white bleachers, quickening at every stair stained with cola spills and ketchup splats.

              “Now I got you, homosexual!” Zak gripped Ethan’s pristine coffee colored vest angrily, his eyebrows wrathfully stabbed each other over his anger-darkened face.

              Ethan cringed, yet he faced his attacker. His palms sweated as his hair flipped over his scalp. He stared at the perpetrator; his own eyebrows appeared as a pair of pencil-drawn convex lines. He pushed him away and yelled once more “We… are not losers!!!” It seemed like he ran out of words except for those three. Yes, losers wasn’t a word to him. It’s a sentence.

              “Oh yeah? Say that to my face again and you’re going to taste my fury!”

              “We… are not losers!” he shouted again, raising his voice to its strongest decibel. His feminine voice crackled as it raised its volume. A tear fell down his cheeks. His face pasted a bravely looking aura, trembling as the molten magma went out as crystalline liquid from his eyes. He almost gave in. Then, he realized that his foe’s fist neglected to enforce his own words. It intentionally missed him. Stares from nearby people held the danger farther away from him. Blood dripped from Zak’s fist. The vermillion scarf rested from the brutal wind, as Ethan was relieved of the angry tension.

              “You are a recreant, Zak. You are nothing but a hologram of a titan that you instill in your impossible delusions because you are just a simple idiot who wants to step on people whom you think are weaker and vulnerable in life. But you know what?” he protested at the peak of his strengthening emotion as he wiped every tear that fell down his soft, light cheeks. He continued, “I…”

              “Come here, you bastard!” Zak dragged him away from the building crowd as he struggled to be released.

“Get off of me!”

              Zak slammed his feet into the ground as he sharply turned to the people behind.

“Don’t you dare follow us or I will kill you all!” It was a usual threat but they all looked scared.

              He continued walking and threw Ethan in the nearby and usually empty shower room.

              Ethan lay still, crying and crying as the radiance shined through the windows at the far end of the room. It was too far away. It was dark. It was cold. It was abandoned. He stood up slowly as he held his bruised right arm.

              Zak was standing, immovable, motionless with his fiendish eyes spreading his malevolence over his face. He glared at Ethan who carefully stood injured from the cerulean tiled terrain. He just glared back. Fortunately, the floor wasn’t dirty.

              “I-I…” Ethan stuttered.

              “Shut up!” Zak charged as he pushed Ethan towards a row of rusted vermillion lockers. It was then followed by a grab at Ethan’s dirtied collar. His grip resembled his fury… his fury that every glass experiences. How a star can shatter in his wink and how a star looses shine with his voice… but Ethan wasn’t an ordinary star. He wasn’t a star actually. He never was… and practically, he will never be.