The Great Escape

Plastic

He told me to run.

That was the last thing he said to me. He said 'Do what you love to do, Avalon. Leave everything behind.

Don't stop.

Just run.'

That might seem a bit dramatic if you didn't know Mavis, or if you didn't know me, or if you didn't know us. But if you did, you'd say 'That's just his way of protecting you' or some mushy crap like that.

I knew he wanted to protect me, thank you.

What did he want to protect me from?? Did he think that leaving me would make it more bearable here?

I was a sophomore. I had no friends. Well, a few, but by friends I mean hey-do-you-want-to-sit-with-us-so-we-all-look-popular friends, not let's-throw-a-joint-birthday-party-and-meet-boys-together friends.

Ugh. The first one sounds the least execrable, but welcome to my high school.

Anyways, the point is I was sitting alone on a bench listening to Vervon, which is basically the only band that I'll listen to. I was sitting on that bench and staring into nothing, and I was so focused on nothing that I didn't notice this scrawny Asian boy toddling along- well more trudging under the weight of a bookbag bigger than he- until that poor little Asian boy tripped on the cracked pavement and spilled his books all over the mossy cement- a particularly large calculus book crushing my toes.

'"Fuck." I mumbled, as to accentuate my incredibly large vocabulary. I glanced over my knees to see the boy examining a little white scrape on his knees, which were exposed thanks to a pair of brand-name basketball shorts that all the boys wore. It was to this that I nudged the book off my toes, sat up, and proceeded to ignore the mildly scraped, but forevermore humiliated transfer boy who I would soon refer to as-

"EXCUSE ME??!"

The boy piped, with an air of intensity that told me he had said this multiple times. I sighed and paused my music, peering down at him. "Yes?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, as if he wasn't sure whether I could hear or not.

I could. Quite clearly, actually.

"You're.. uhm...," he began, gesturing right between my legs, where lay a dark green pouch that probably contained something nerdy, like his very own scientific calculator.

"What? Can you not reach?"

I quipped, causing a look of surprise to cross his already curious face. I tried to ignore how cute it made him look.

"Well, yes it's just.. I uhm you.."

He struggled, to which I let slip a smile I could not hold back, and reached down behind me to grab the case. I had to push down all the curious feelings as to what was in it, and when I came to face him, I had to push down the urge to feel his lips.

I sat up and tossed his pouch on his lap, which he grabbed urgently, as if there was something incredibly delicate and important, say, the Declaration of Independence, tucked inside. I rolled my eyes.

Why was I being so rude to him? This boy, who I knew nothing about- one look at him, and I hated him? That must be what you're thinking.

I don't know how else to put it besides it was how he looked. Or the way he looked at me. He looked E X A C T L Y like every other boy in our grade, in our school, in the great state of Georgia, in the whole world, to my knowledge. Everyone tried so hard to be the same. They wanted to be exactly like everyone else so they wouldn't stand alone. Think about it- no distinguishing factors, and you won't get picked on. You have built in friends who are just as fake as you!! They're so PLASTIC. These people are plastic, and I didn't want his sharp plastic edges to cut my paper skin.

But he looked up at me with eyes so dark they blacked out the sun, and that alone broke my skin. And suddenly, I couldn't keep up my demeanor that was, in all honesty, as hard and fake as the plastic.