"The Birth of Venus. Painted by Botticelli. 1486. The Creation of Adam. Painted by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel."
"Do you mind?"
"Huh?"
"You've been rambling on about art for fifteen minutes. I'm trying to sleep."
"You do realize this is detention right? We're supposed to study. It helps me if I say my flashcards out loud."
"Why can't you just study later?"
"Why can't you take a nap later?"
"Naps are the most pleasurable in the early afternoon."
"Whatever. I'm done anyways."
"Mrs. Serrano? Art history?"
"Unfortunately."
"She is such a bitch."
"Wow."
"What?"
"That's a little harsh, don't you think? She's like eight months pregnant. Her hormones are driving her bat-shit crazy."
"Oh come on, don't tell me you're one of those girls."
"One of what girls?"
"You know, nice girls. Girls who wouldn't dare talking bad about anyone."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. Nothing. Just that they're so uptight a lump of coal would turn into a diamond if you stuck it up their ass."
"Excuse me for defending a woman who should have been on maternity leave since December, I mean seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if her water broke next period. Anyways, don't act like you know anything about me or my ass."
"I do know you. We had English last year. Your name is Jackie."
"Not quite. It's Gigi."
"Yeah, that's right. You wrote a pretty good poem. I saw it got in the yearbook, too."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Yeah."
"..."
"So, do you know who I am?"
"You're kidding me."
"Not at all. Who am I?"
"Oliver Aston?"
"So you know my last name. Interesting."
"Don't flatter yourself. I know everyone's last name."
"Defensive. What else do you know?"
"Come on man..."
"Please? I'm bored out of my mind."
"Ugh... I don't know. The rumour is you've been to Juvie once. I guess you're dating Eva Breck."
"Ex dating."
"Sorry?"
"No you're not. What are you in detention for Gigi?"
"Weren't you going to take a nap?"
"Impossible. I got a red bull from the vending machine earlier. Caffeine fucks me up. And now I'm so enthralled in our conversation that I couldn't possibly sleep. I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve. Also, you're dodging the question."
YOU ARE READING
Gigi and Olly and Three Long Hours (dialogue story)
Short StoryGigi Jacobs and Oliver Aston walked down the halls past each other thousands of times. They knew the same people, they took the same classes, they ate in the same cafeteria. They never spoke. That's how it should have ended. They should have left hi...
