It's Monday and I find myself back in detention. I rub the upper part my sweat shirt sleeved arms to suppress their cold state, the result of to the chilly draft in the room. I search thoroughly through my front pocket of my back pack, hoping to find my plaid jacket hidden within the depths of the fabric.
"Why do you look like you're missing something?" The boy from yesterday sits behind me. I mask my disappointment as I instantly identify who it is. How could I not? The voice belongs to an individual who owns a very distinct voice, one so unique that I'll probably never come across such a sound again.
"Because I am?" I retort and rub my tired eyes that are the results of working a midnight shift the previous night.
"What are you missing? Maybe I can find it." The boy replies optimistically clearly not registering my attitude. I'm thankful for this because I'm not fond of making enemies and I've made more than a few.
"Maybe," I mumble doubtfully, constraining my utter irritation. Where did that confounded jacket disappear off to?
"What is it?" He presses persistently again.
I exhale deeply as I rake through another pocket. "Well, you remember the incident I was talking to you about yesterday?"
"Uh..." He draws a blank and I can tell he's still high.
I shake my head, how could I possibly of expected him to remember? In fact, how can I possibly expect him to do much of anything when he's so intoxicated? I decide to simply wave it off. It's not like we're friends or anything. If that were the case, any disappointment would be justified, but for now it's not. "Never mind man, you must of really went hard core on those drugs."
"I always do," he chirps like it's some sort of grand accomplishment.
I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck, not knowing what to say. "Anyways, I left my jacket in the bathroom and I haven't seen it since. I was kind of hoping that I miraculously shoved it in here at some point, but I guess not."
"What does it look like?" I feel him watching me with steady and earnest eyes as I zip up all my pockets. It takes all I have not to flinch from discomfort.
Feeling defeated and frustrated, I answer. "It's red and black plaid. I would say it's pretty big. It's..." My sentence lingers in the air. Suddenly, I have a strong urge to look at him and when I do, I start giggling uncontrollably at the sight. His outfit of the day consists of a dollar store tiara, a sparkly purple boa, and a single boxing glove. To complete the outfit, he tops it off with a pair of roller skates and a plaid jacket...one that astonishingly looks exactly like mine.
"May I see the zipper on that jacket?" I ask politely, knowing I have a green paper clip on mine that distinguishes the jacket from all the rest.
"Sure." He complies and leans forward, so I can examine the zipper.
I take note of the dangling paper clip attached to the bottom part of the zipper. I remember clipping it on after I broke the top half of it on accident. "So, where did you get this nice jacket?" I ask curiously.
"The girls' bathroom!" He rushes on shamelessly. "I think it just really makes the whole outfit, you know. I consider it a pretty essential component." He nods his head in approval and smooths over the jacket contently.
"How did you?.." my voice trails off. "Never mind." I come to the conclusion that's it's probably best not to ask why he was wandering around in the girls' bathroom. To be frank, I probably don't want to contain that specific piece of knowledge.
