S. P. Whitman confuses me. She changes her name every class. In 9th literature it was Sarafina Princess Whitman. She sat in front of me at lunch. She didn't find anyone new to sit with. She sat right in front of me and didn't eat. My mind wondered. I remembered S. P.'s words: "It's not healthy to wonder." But I did it anyway. You can tell by the way she is cautious, she has a hard past. I find it so unreal that someone so beautiful can have a hard past. Someone so perfect as her can have such a heart-wrenching sob story.
I wrote a poem in my head.
I want to.
I want to tell her everything I feel but then again I hold back.
There's a time and place for everything but now is not the time or the place...
but I can make it.
I want to hold her fragile body like diamonds.
I want to cradle her and tell her it's ok because you're safe in my arms.
I want to tell her, that her body is beautiful and she shouldn't cry.
I want to be the one to wipe her tears because I know what it feels like when no cares enough to wipe your tears.
I want her to let me in her life and not push me away.
I want to be in her life.
At lunch I ate salad. Sylvie sat next to me and Anne sat next to S. P.. Anne spoke: "Bonjour,
je m'appelle Anne. C'est Sylvie. Sylvie est mon favori ami. "
"Oui. " Sylvie smiled.
S. P. looked at me. "We don't speak French. " She said loudly and slowly as if Sylvie and Anne were deaf.
"Oh. Haha right and we both can hear very well so you don't have to be loud." Anne said. When Sylvie and Anne talked in English it seemed like they weren't French. They spoke with no accent.
"My name is Sylvie, this is Anne. " *She combed her platinum blonde hair to the side.
"Hi. My friends call me, Sadia Patricia Whitman."
"Do they now?" Anne questioned her.
"Well, I only have Ben as a friend right now so..." I'm her friend! I wanted to asked her can we be more than that but I didn't.
"Ms. Whitman, do mind if we ask you a few questions?" Only Anne spoke, Sylvie did not speak.
"Hehehe yeah I mind. "
Anne continued with her questions, "Why aren't you eating?"
"I don't like eating in front of people. " S. P. quickly answered.
"You need to eat. "
"Okay. If I eat will you leave me alone?"
"Yes. "
"Ok. I will eat. " S. P. Whitman got nachos.
She ate a few chips. Sylvie and Anne left. I stared at her. I stared at her long hair. Her unblinking eyes glistened. Her nails were a dark pink -not a hot pink- just a dark pink. She looked distracted and in distress. Her eye caught my eye.
"Oh uh... I'll turned around if you need me to. "
"Oh no no, it's ok. It's just that..." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I had a problem with food in the past. "
"Like a- a eating disorder?" Her eyes darted away from mine. "I...I'm sorry. I know we don't know each other that well and uh- "
"We could get to know each other."
"Yeah. We totally could. "
The rest of school was boring and Myra didn't ride the bus after school. S. P. Whitman did though. She sat with me and just looked out the window. We didn't talk the rest of the week. I was too shy to start a conversation and she found friends. I guess she forgot about me but she always sat and ate lunch with me. She probably felt bad that I have no friends. She worked on school work at lunch so I never bothered her. The two French girls always sat with us -they always talked in French.
*image is of Sylvie
YOU ARE READING
The Leftovers
Teen FictionI had become a leftover. I am nothing more than a plate of food he forgets about, And soon he will dispose of me. He comes to me when he is hungry for love, I feed him hoping he'll stay, But he leaves. Because that's all I am to him, Just a leftover.
