Wonderwall

A Little Bird Told Me

Entry for WattpadShortStory's Reading List Marathon contest: write a 500-word duodrabble about social stereotypes/struggles with a borrowed title from the Boxed Sets reading list.

Won 1st place & now featured in WattpadShortStory's entry anthology, Gemstones!

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ON A SEPTEMBER afternoon in 8th grade, I was sent home from school with a broken nose, a sprained wrist, and a suspension slip. As our principal escorted me off campus with a steely and penetrating gaze, I feigned a triumphant front in the direction of my appalled teachers and sniggering classmates. The moment he released me from his iron grip, I mounted my bicycle and pedaled to the only place I felt welcomed in my whole hometown—my best friend, Howie's house.

Upon entering his bedroom, a pair of doe eyes intensely peered at me within the bundles of blankets on his bed. "You look like hell."

"Gee thanks!" Melodramatically, I flopped on top of him before rolling out onto the empty space of mattress beside him. "A little birdie told me you're not feeling well," I announced sing-songy, watching as he emerged from his duvet-cocoon.

        His laugh was humorless—more of a scoff than anything. "A little birdie told me you socked Todd Baker in the face." Howie rummaged through the containers beneath his bed before withdrawing a first aid kit.

        Huh, news spreads fast.

        "He deserved it."

        "What'd he do this time?" Nonchalantly, he tossed me an instant ice pack for my wrist.

        I'd never admit it out loud, but Howie himself was the motive for my misbehavior. If I came clean, he'd be burdened with guilt for the rest of his life. So, naturally, I lied: "Tripped me at lunch in front of everybody."

What actually happened was way worse. Howie and I were used to Todd's constant tormenting, but that day, the jerk took it a little too far and used a word he shouldn't have. Such a derogatory slur coming from a privileged white student like Todd—especially when aimed at my best friend—physically pained my heart. And unfortunately, my fists tended to function faster than my brain.

As Howie gently applied a peroxide-soaked cotton ball to my busted lip, I mentally replayed the incident. I remembered how he mockingly called Howie my boyfriend in a lame attempt to get under my skin. While I patiently sat on Howie's bed as he nurtured my wounds, I wondered—even if it were true—why it'd be so awful after all. There are much worse things in the world than two boys holding hands (i.e., like racist, bigoted white boys named Todd Baker).

With my good arm, I reached for his hand and interlocked our fingers. "Hey, Howie?" I felt his thumb brush my palm reassuringly. "Hope you know I love you."

I was sick of hearing, "Love sees no color," because in reality, love sees all color, and that's what matters most in life.

Despite all the chaos that ensued in the past three hours, despite Todd being exempt from any punishment, despite that my mom was gonna kill me when I broke the news of my suspension, Howie smiled at me, and I somehow knew that everything would be alright.