Once a Reject

l

L for lame

School is Lame
My teachers aren't playing any games
I study hard but only time will tell
If I end up taking a major L
- A poem by Margaux Bedel

Now make your own short poem in the comments based off of something that's Lame😝!!!
------------------------------------////

The week carried on as it should, you know magic snow, Santa and shit. But while all that was happening outside, I opted for the much warmer and much more comfortable latter.

"Hey Marx, huge favor can you drive me to Gwen's house." I sucked air through my teeth and let it out very slowly.

"Vicki look, I'm like hella busy right now. Can't you go to Gwen's house some other day?" I was barley paying attention to her but I know her mannerisms; her arms were crossed.

"Marx. You're playing jenga, by yourself."

"And I wouldn't like to interrupt my streak." Vicki sighed loudly and started her way to the kitchen.

"Fine. I'll walk." That made me look away from my tower of wood and pride.

"Fuck no you won't." Her eye lids fell into slits and I could tell if she was now pissed or defeated.

"Then what am I supposed to do Marx?" Her voice was soft, slow and deadly.

"Not go."

"Not. an option."

"Oh." Vicki stomped her foot and started descending the stairs;

"You are such a lazy ass!" She screamed.

"Love you too," I scream, then more to myself I say, "jeez, teenagers. Don't like their attitude, wait a couple hours."

My thoughts go back to my jenga, but really it's just a distraction for what went on a few days ago. I couldn't tell if I was avoiding Kyle or he was a avoiding me. I never did take the liberty to reach out, but neither did he. I did, however get one text from Garret but he was just saying thank your for being his shoulder. It was foreign to hear him say "thank you", the only time I expect to hear that is when it's lead by a compliment.

But anyhoe, post incident, I've been pretty much in the same flannel pajamas pants playing Jenga and Modern warfare 3. When I'm upset I subconsciously do stupid miscellaneous tasks to rid myself of bad thoughts. I called them "dude moments". So imagine me in blue flannel pajama pants, no shirt, tousled hair, black socks, on the couch with Cheetos, popcorn and soda playing Jenga on the living room table. Got it? Okay and "scene".

"Oh shit he's dude-ing out again!" Jill says as she comes through the door. Chris just grumbles and goes to the kitchen not caring.

"Jill, don't curse. Victoria's home." Jill hopped the couch and sits (A/N sits autocorrected to shits and I was busting my ass off for like an hour. Okay continue) next to me. I hold a grip on the table so my tower doesn't fall. She looks at my brother innocently and then let's out a string of curses,

"Shit, fuck, damn, crap, bitch, cunt, dick-"

"Okay I get it!" Jill just smiles and turns back to me.

"Dude." She says.

"Dude." I say back.

"Era uoy yako dude?" (Are you okay dude?) she asks.

"On dude" (no dude).

"Nmad dude." (Damn dude). Our conversation ends there. Mainly because our "dude" language really only goes that far. We made it back when I was in 6th grade and she was a sophomore in college. We haven't worked on it since. I rest my head on her shoulder and she removes a piece from the middle section and moves it to the top. We play until the tower topples over.