Perfect (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 8.25: Essay

Chapter 8.25: Essay

              “This is your first time, Colchester.” His mother gave him a stern look. “First. Time,” she emphasized.

              He gave a far sigh back and tied his black and white scarf into a metal chain knot causing it to dangle below his belt.

              “It’s my second time, mom,” he returned the sternly served mood back to her mom. “At least, I did not get suspended,” he carefree-ly continued.

              The atmosphere became as heavy as metal sphere weighing twice as an African Elephant does. The gravity pulled their feet down to place as the atmosphere refrained from reverberating the echoes of their shoes.

              “Why?” he asked, stretching his arm to invite walking once more. “Got something to ruin your espadrilles, mom?” he joked.

              “Second time?” The tone was dull and monotonous. “And I am not even informed that you were in the principal’s office?” she asked, confused. “What kind of school is this?”

              “It’s cliché, mom. Nothing more. Children get bullied over and over again but when it’s done, no need to inform the parents,” he sardonically smiled. “Ummmm,” he stuttered. “Yes, second time. We stood up for Red. I was nervous that time.” Ethan paused still and braced himself for a hoard of questions waiting for the fake gun to shoot.

              “But why? I am your mother! I need to know your activities.”

              “Not all, mom. I can handle some things, like this, myself. They seem normal since I have these life. Submissive days are over that is an I hope so,” he ended and neared his mom for a hug.

              “By the way,” he added, pulling his body away. “I sent an essay to NYAAS.”

              “And?”

              “It’s about how people with gummy bears stuck on their gums commit suicide,” he said with a large line of smile crossing his face.

              “What?” His mother erupted. “Isn’t it informal?” trying not to bust Ethan’s wall of candy sticks and paper works.

              “No. I bet not. It’s ambiguous. I think people in UKUFAAS know what I want to say. They’re not bozos.” He adds, continuing his home routine.

              “Bozos? You vocab pulls me up, Ethan. Congratulations!” She cheers.

              Ethan grins back with a convexly curved eyebrow. His palms meet his mother’s amd says “You never fail to make me feel pleasant, mom. I love you.” He kisses her. “I need to meet Sir Cross, still.” He frowns, striding off to the bisque hallway.

              “But it’s nighttime!” She tries to stop.

              “I’ll drive him.” A voice calls for a formal attention. The voice was cold yet vulnerable to warmth in compensation and in debt.

              “Fauntine?”

              “Ms. Pallazzos?”

              They both exclaim with disbelief. Fauntine stretches her hand with a soft line on her lips.

              “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Colchester.” She shakes hands. “Ethan, go if you may.” She smiles with Ethan’s mother.