[Welcome back to FICTION FRIDAY all you lovely Readers! A little story inspired at the bus stop this morning. Enjoy! ]
Open my locker Friday morning to buy time. Everything I need for the day is already in my backpack. Fiddle with the pencils in the small, hot pink container magnetically stuck to the inside door. Just need to look like I’m trying to choose one. Run my fingertips along the top of my remaining text books on the floor of the metal niche. Just need to look like I’m looking for something.
Just about the time my index finger catches a corner of Beginner’s French, I hear your voice. “Ouch.” Thanks. Now I have a stinging slit to remind me all day that you distract me. Because you do. Distract me.
“T.G.I.F., Yo!” I hear you repeat the words and out of the corner of my eye, I see you chest bump one of your football buds. Such a guy thing. Wannabe hug between men. I want to be hugged. By you.
Now you’re standing near enough for me to touch. As you spin the combination on your lock, I listen to you. For you. The sound of your humming. You have a song in your head. You’re the song in my head.
“Sorry.” All of a sudden you speak. You’re speaking to me. “You’re, umm, sorry I forgot your name.” That’s because I never told you my name. You never asked. Before today. Before now.
I point to myself, and the paper cut smarts when it collides with my sweatshirt zipper. I wince, and you probably think I’m a freak. I can’t speak.
“Uh?” You’re waiting. “Can I borrow a pencil? Dumb me. I left mine at home, and I’m so late for math.” I know you have math. I know your entire schedule. After math is English. After that, Bio. Then Gym. And then lunch. When I get a chance to stare at you for twenty-six entire minutes. Without interruption.
You clear your throat. I’m staring. Now. This is going so well, I’m sure you’ll ask me out. As in, “Get out of my way. I’m late to class.”
“Meena.” I hand him my favorite pencil. The one with a hot pink eraser stopper on the back. Perfectly sharp for the day’s tasks. Perfect. “My name is Meena.”
“Didn’t mean-a to interrupt!” You laugh at your own joke as you take the pencil from me. “Thanks.” And you leave. Just like that. Taking my heart with you.
I shut my locker door and the cold touch of the grey metal feels good against my throbbing finger tip. I lean my head until it touches too. Helps my growing headache subside, ever so slightly. Nothing strong enough to reach me in that place. That empty room where you left me. And leave me every day. Leave me wanting. Sigh.
Just another day in the life of me. Mean-a. You said my name. You know my name. You know. Nothing. Just another day.
**Ever had a crush on someone you couldn’t tell? Who do you talk to when you need an ear? What’s your best crush story from High School daze! Because I get all dazed and confused inside my head when I think of memories of yesteryear!