the ups and downs of micahs

3

▷ micah blue ◁

gauche [gohsh]

adjective | lacking social grace, sensitivity, or acuteness; awkward; crude; tactless

"I'm such a dumbass."

I say as I fold my legs over the toilet that I'm sitting on. The action depresses me, so I go back to my original position and sigh, opening my bag and rummaging through for my dictionary.

I left lunch way too early to go to my next class, AP Chemistry, and I decided not to just roam the halls, so I came to the bathroom and sat in the stall to wallow, like a complete loser.

Who was I to just give myself a seat at their table? Everyone watched me as I climbed up the steps to their balcony. Everyone heard as Sidney reclaimed her leadership and banished me from the kingdom. Everyone, once again, watched as I ran out of the cafeteria like chicken that knew it was about to get its head chopped off.

"You're new," I remind myself, still looking for that damn dictionary. "You're fresh. Sidney isn't. Sidney is seasoned. Sidney is cool." I bring myself back into straight posture with the dictionary in my hand, brushing hairs out of my face in a hasty manner.

"She's the one in the cafeteria, eating with the people that listen to her every word." I open to the first page of the dictionary.

I've read all the way down to "abattis"--giblets--when I hear the bathroom door open with a loud squeal. High-pitched, chirpy voices and hollow footsteps follow. I fold my legs over the seat again, and lean my body over slightly to peek through the crack in the stall.

I can only see one person, but looking at the floor shows that there are two others.

The girl I can see turns, head facing the mirror.

"God, my ass is so small!" She complains, turning the other way and observing her body once again.

"Same. I've bought every pair of rounding jeans I can find, but I still look like a board from the back," someone else says, prompting the last friend to speak.

"We should ask Micah Blue what she's done. She's had to have, like, shots or something."

"Maybe she wears a butt pad. Those are in."

"Or maybe it's....relationship weight. Carter told me about that. Before she got with Dean, she was underweight and walking with toothpicks. Two years later, she's 145 pounds with ham hocks for calves." They all make noises of disgust, before jumping into a new conversation about their schedules.

I want to protest, but then I'll reveal myself. I decide that I'd rather be a loser in private and dispel their words in my mind.

No shots. No butt pads. No relationship, no weight gain (which doesn't even correlate). Just growth spurts and special order jeans.

"I've got another class with Micah Barrett this year!" One of the girls squeaks, now standing up on her toes.

"No fair! You always get classes with him."

"Maybe it's the registrar telling you that it's meant to be. He's such a dream." She sighs, placing her bag on the ground before dropping to her knees and sticking her hands in it. I suck in a breath and lean my body forward to avoid any possible eye contact.