The Storms Of August

Chapter Ten: Take My Hand And Come With Me

The spare rain on the worn souls of my shoes created a squeaking effect every time I turned a corner in the lonely corridors. While my bag was wet, heavy, and lazily slung over my right shoulder, the hot pink tardy slip pinched between me thumb and my index finger like a dirty sock felt more weighted. I was alone and lollygagging my way up the narrow stairwell to the top floor, which would also be empty. I hate being late. A major factor of this is because when you open the door to the classroom, every head in the room discontinues the focus it has on one thing and shifts over to you. The teacher looks to the non punctual student like the jackass that spray painted over the priceless artwork that is their future; and the students give whatever look matches the face that appears in the doorway. I sullenly stroll down the high school wing as I shake the hood of my jacket off my head, letting my wet locks loose from their baby blue protector. My pace echoed into five as it walked ahead of me and down the hallway with the sound of a distantly near future. The white tiles were already covered in little snakes of brown dirt, tracked inside by the rest of the student's trek inside. If the janitor put effort into cleaning the Senior wing maybe I'd feel worse about adding to the mess.

My legs quivered and jumped when a large burden was added to my back unexpectedly. Slick Blue Jordans hugged my thighs while strong arms locked together around my neck and short dark hair brushed the side of my head. While he laughed sweetly, I groaned as all of my morning strength was drawn from the slumber still in my bones to keep me from collapsing onto the dirty tiles. The stride I kept in getting to my locker had been broken by this boyish boy making a lemur of himself and using my already weakened frame as his tree so I was limited to bent knees, hunched back, and rugged breathing until his limbs unlocked mine. Upon touching the ground again, Joe gave me an apologetic look and slung my backpack over his shoulder before we started again toward my locker with a short term comfortable silence between us. Since the drunken, foolish night at the Walker's house, the running back and I had shifted towards the light of each other naturally. I learned above all else what he was and what he wasn't when everyone else, particularly Demi, was not present. The constant nudge at the back of his mind was at ease when no one was in the room to make him tick, he was actually quite tame and playful when his brother wasn't rough housing with him and Demi wasn't pushing his buttons like it was for a remote controlled monster truck. One thing that never changed was Joe. No matter what, Joe was Joe. Some of his attributes might be put to rest, but he always remained himself. His eyes reflected whether the serious and bull dog aspects were on; they always went from a puppy dog brown to dark chocolate as if to say 'this is a part of me, but it is not who I am'. "You know you're supposed to dry yourself off and put clothes on after you shower, right sunny?" Joe teased, slinging an arm around my shoulder, pulling my frame to his.

I playfully nudged his side, "You know that men don't smell like puberty, right, Joey?".

Joe laughed slightly before a slight glint of seriousness hit his face through the window at the end of the hall, "You hang around Demi too much".

"Oh, she isn't so bad. You're just discouraged because she one ups you while socially kicking you in the face. Making her out to be a monster does nothing but show that it bothers you, and Demi eats your defeats for breakfast". I smile and pat the side of his head in attempts to suck the glumness out of his lips by my fingertips, but the release is short lived.

The two of us walk a few more tiles while Joe put his thoughts together and I sling my arm around his torso,"Well I'm not as bad as she makes me out to be either," Joe says gently as we approach my locker, opening it for me and leaning on the one beside the hinges. "I just-It's her. There's this thing about her that just sneaks its way between my ears and changes my brain chemistry or something" he pauses," You can see me right?". I knew that feeling. The sense that an outside force has crept into your head to alter your habits and personality, your wishes, your desires. Yet at the same time it is unclear what's going on. There is something lurking under the tongue and inside the tonsils, begging to vibrate itself into your words when you're awake and crawl into the subconscious when the lights go out. What is changing and why it's doing so is unknown, but the fact that this invisible gas can do so much with so little can be troublesome.