Like To Be You ✓

fourteen

song: cavetown--- talk to me

x

On Thursday afternoon, right after lunch is over, I'm standing at my locker, removing books for English, when David Mahajan appears at my left and grins menacingly. I clench my teeth and slam the door shut. I turn around, and he says, "I heard you got a li'l crush on Tyler."

He chuckles, as if it is something funny, which it isn't, not even remotely, and he bares his ugly, ugly teeth as he does so. Now, in this instant, as he crosses his arms and moves his mouth to speak, it reminds me of the boy at the arcade gates, and then the thought of socking him in the face seems infinitely more inviting.

"Fuck off." I say. He picks Moby Dick out of my arms just as I try to walk past him and gazes at it with fake keenness.

"And what do we have here?"

"It's Moby Dick. Can't you read, shitface?" I make a move to grab it, but his beefy arms move it just out of my reach. My heartbeat stutters at the thought of him tearing it to shreds, because if he does, I'll probably lose my sanity and rip his head off his neck. This book is the first edition, really fucking expensive, and a family treasure my father gifted to me two Christmases before he died. The fact that it has been touched by David Mahajan has me seething.

"Give it back." I whisper. My voice shakes. I clench my fists. Then the final bell rings and he throws it on the floor with such force my arms tremble. And then he walks away, and I'm left staring after him.

When I finally get around to English class, I'm out of breath, having run three fucking floors. Mrs Trahan stops talking just as I step in. Everybody's eyes are pinned on me.

I shrink back a little under their stares, but then the inner me says, straighten up, bitch, and I do. I meet every piercing gaze back with hard eyes.

"I'm sorry," I begin, "somebody---"

"Enough excuses, Mr Graham." Her mauve lips pull up with attitude. I hear it before she says it: "Maybe detention will teach you a lesson."

No no no no no. I can't stay late after school. I have to be home by 3:30, or the worst will happen.

"Please, Mrs Trahan." I choke out. I refuse to burst into tears in front of the class, which watches the interaction raptly. "I can't stay after school. I have somewhere to be, and it's imp---"

"You should have thought about that during your peaceful, slow walk to the classroom. No more arguing now, you're wasting my time."

My pride nearly makes me walk out of the class, but the panic and anxiety overpower it, and the streak of shame worsens it. I slowly take in a breath, meeting all the pairs of eyes staring at me. Be bold, I'm telling myself. If you lie well enough, they won't see through.

Throughout the entire period, I formulate words that can convince her into letting me go home while trying to appear as if I'm concentrating so that she doesn't make an unnecessary comment. I'm thinking about how foolish I am, how foolish I was, letting my mouth run just to spite her.

Stupid, Neil. So stupid.

The bells rings just as I'm telling myself that it's alright, everything's alright, for the eighty-seventh time. Everybody scatters from their seats, and Mrs Trahan haughtily ignores me as I approach her. She busies herself in sorting through papers. I clear my throat.

"Yes, Mr Graham? Got any more excuses left for me, or did you finish them all in the other periods?"

I gulp nervously. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Stop thinking about it.