We are all sitting together quietly, imagining the violence in the game ahead.
Nathaniel gets up, and walks deftly towards where only a lone toilet stands.
Suddenly, taking his place, a beautiful guy with soft dark hair, glimmering underneath the hard Coong spotlights, Steve-o, lumbers up, with soft ocean eyes, greedily looks at my wonderful leather bound blue book, and he's back with a lovely case for his guitar.
"Sitting their all alone, right?" he said creepily.
"No, I literally-"
Steve sat down next to me, and I could feel his animalistic warm bloodedness radiating his humanity to my fellow humanity. He was sitting much too close to me now, but it was a breezy hall and it wasn't too bad. He grabbed the guitar case, yanked the long graceful stringed wood with his right fist, and dragged, and out came a shiny, bright brocade print shapely instrument of Apollo, or something. Anyway, he gently strums the guitar and I go along with it, because it's nice having a warm person next to me. "How's this?" he says and I cringe.
"Let's be weirdos together" he said softly, and I shift away from him.
"ABOO DUM DA". He sings, as if it has any actual meaning, all folksy as he is, his voice warbling.
I look around, pure escape the situation body gestures. Everyone looks round and sees the folksy couple patting each other on the back.
He tells me to behold and shows me a bunch of animal noises he perfected. Fascinating. I look on mesmerised. He then confounds me by soulfully banging on the table like a mutated gorilla, trying to create great table music. A crack begins to form and it whips and smacks Kathleen. "FUCK," she screams. "You think that's funny?"
I look down, bashfully.
Steve stands up, shocked, in my seeming defense, but not really. "Excuse me?" he says softly, "I was deep in my music." He shook his mass of squirrel tail thicket-like hair out of his face.
Kathleen groans, and struts away.
Steve looks on quizzically, slightly horrified, shock dwelling in his angsty face. "Never has someone spoken to me in such a way," he said softly, and he seems to begin to go in her direction, but then he stares at me accusingly. "You didn't applaud my sound."
Thank fucking gosh Fliss is trying to distract him, staring at his wonderful boy band visage since the beginning til the end. Which will be very diarrhea-y. I just manage a smile and begin to make my exit.
Doonja seems to be leaving her crowd of fairly popular friends, and walking towards me. I've always admired this girl.
"Hey there, lady, how's it HANGING".
'great!' I say shifting two times more uncomfortably.
Doonja scook her inky black hair over her green sequined shoulder, and asked me whether I wanted to join her dance club.
I looked up at her, and then down at her purple sneakers. I really liked this girl. But I was gonna have to pass.
Doonja nodded her head slowly, looking like she was expecting a more jock appropriate response, seeming as I was quite the hardened steely one. Betchley was going off with the rest of the group and I began having second thoughts. Her apple booteh blue jeans, although a pretty green apple colour would also be fair, were swinging confidently towards the others.
I waited for them to leave, then carefully noted the direction of their dance hall. Every day at 5pm I would be peeking through the nicks in the wall to stare at Doonja, doing her little jig. It was bad, but still. I watched Betchley swing around in front of the shining mirror, and do a little handstand, her bracelets ringing to the turn of the wrist. I was the Voyeur. Creepy but.
