Chapter 1:

The Monster of Waymore High (Part 1)

The Seed of Change

Walking down the hallway of my school top story near all the 200 classrooms, I went to the water fountain. Drank a little bit of water, continued on my way, and started for the creative writing class. It was only 7:30 in the morning and I had plenty of time before first period to play cop and interrogate some people. They might get too familiar and ask me out for lunch, so I didn’t want to make it personal. Asking about Mello was more than enough. A living monster inside the school, feared among the most mentally beefed people was something big in my book. She could be on the news all day and every watch would feel like the first time they tuned in. That first surge you get when prick yourself with a needle (or someone else if you’re a sadist), the dopamine just pumps straight into the brain and immediately, you’re more awake than ever! I entered the classroom – class 254 and saw two people sitting in the back. They looked like typical mid-2000’s high schoolers, one’s that you would see in Kesha music videos or covers on young-adult magazines. Coincidence as both their hair was slicked back into a wave, both had inflated muscles – your typical athletes. They drummed with their pencils and made comments to each other: “What are you going to do for the weekend?”, one of them asked. He gave a soft shrug and continued the beat he was making. “LIVE FOR CHANGE” is what was on his shirt. I approached him getting a blast of oceanic cologne up my nose and sat down next and turned my expecting eyes at him. He gave a quick glance and looked back at me again. “You straight?” he said. “Straight as an arrow”. He went back to beating on the table. I looked over at Mello’s desk. It was funny how the desk was positioned. The chair was slightly curved to the left and the shadow of the wall made the chair grim. The whole desk looked disproportionate from the rest of the row as it was the only one that sunk into the floor. Taking a glance underneath, I saw that the rubber nub that held the chair in place was taken off. If the chair was moved, or pushed, so help all of our ears if we had to listen to its horrific violin solo. Two replacement chairs sat by the door next to the window, so it seems like it was going in the trash anyways. But even so, it would’ve already been replaced by now. It’s like nobody dared to move it. One of the boys spoke from behind me, my head turned rather quickly. “Like what you see?”. “I don’t know” I turned back to the chair unsure of where I was looking “Pale red and grim isn’t my type”. He stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m Josh”. Josh, that’s all the flashed in my mind. A picture of writing on a stone-brick wall in blood reading “Josh” - one of the infamous troublesome quiet kids. He looked like the sort of man who could easily bring home a girl in one night, and the rumors don’t exactly credit his looks. It’s not to say that those rumors were real themselves. Maybe Josh had some sort of change going on with him, like he has just gotten through his first week of counseling and decided to shed his old skin and bring out the new him. And of course, the new him was a lot more attractive than his old self. Rusted up in the head and beating up people that “pulled on his strings”, and then a fight breaks out. The rumors must’ve taken a toll on him as his acme was highly-active all around his forehead – a highly-evident sign of stress. His voice didn’t sound like the confident athlete he was now. If his old clothes had brought his personality with him, then I would’ve assumed that he was a different Josh from what the rumors told. Two guys named Josh. It could be that this also isn’t the same Josh as in the rumors. “Josh from 116?” I asked. He gave a slight nod as if he were proud of his reputation. Damn, it’s as if that one nod had said “I’ve been through hell and back, what about you, dwarf shit?”. Well, this dwarf shit definitely underestimated him. The celebrity “Josh” – famous quiet kid, sitting right next to me didn’t feel at that eventful. For one thing, I expected him to put up his fists the second I said his name, but no match was had. He turned his head towards Mello’s cold desk then looked back at me. “You know about Mello right? Like that girl hurts. She may be a firework by herself, but that bitch is a bomb. Me and my friend, minding out own business, she turns, looks at us and just stares for a good minute or so. Asks my friend: what are you most unhappy with? Unhappy that you’re too much of a nut to bust our nut on” he laughed a little “But, like shit. I don’t know about you, you got here early for her I assume. She isn’t worth it”. I need to ask something that was relevant with the incident. “Did she have any close relations with anybody?”. “She hardly even talks at all, always muttering to herself like she’s saying a prayer. Some dude asked if she was okay, and she just kept going on with her nonsense as she looked right at him dead in the eye too, scariest shit. We all treat that bitch like an exhibit.” He let out a chuckle and then it deflated off. “You guys must always pay attention to her then?”. “Man, we’re the ones who patrol the class. If you let your guard down, one student could get sucked up into whoknow-s what the fuck she’s saying. One time, she got a student to listen, and he invested all his coins. He was leaning in, elbows touching her tits – she didn’t care. This went on for the whole period, got up to ask this horny guy what she had just told him, and he told me I’m not a politician, but change is only natural. I didn’t get it”. “You’re pretty passionate about Mello” I said. “So?”. I felt a little out of place now as he scaled me up. I didn’t see it, but more people had already taken their seats and piled inside, Mello’s was still empty. It’s obvious she has no interest showing up for school today, or on time. Mello was just accused of murdering a quiet kid from who knows what classroom, so the rumors must’ve pushed her away from the school. As this thought crossed my mind, I noticed a chair that had been empty for the last three minutes before the first bell. The seat was located on the third row, fourth chair. It was empty, and nobody was going to claim it. “Jade is dead” I heard one of the student’s mutter. An arrow had pierced through my heart. Jade was familiar to me, like the dog that greets you home every time you come back from work or school. Except there was nobody to greet me home now, an empty gate stood there in my mind, with no dog to greet by. The oceanic cologne that Josh was wearing began to stuff inside of my nose and turned into a bland scent that caused me to take in all the confusion and unreality that was lingering in the air. The atmosphere became suspiciously heavy, and I stood up to escape the chaos that was happening inside the classroom. The class mirrored the thoughts inside my head. I felt entrapped in a long and dark hospital soaked in a crimson red light, voices calling out to me from the musty glow of each room. They called my name. Come inside, they’d all say. I didn’t know which voice to follow, as I didn’t know which voice spoke the truth, or was going to lure me into a lie. I heard she didn’t die but was caught in a car crash. My senses eased. Really? No way, she was definitely the girl who came out inside the body bag! That voice was somehow louder than the rest. She’s one dead bitch. The dead part rung loud, like in The Final Sacrifice by the Swan’s - it’s all quiet humming throughout the whole song, until there’s this burst of energy in his voice, and the song almost becomes a cry for help. Step inside of me now, it would roar. I stepped out into the claustrophobic hallway, packs of people were pilling on the right side of the hall, and I had nowhere to go. Unless I pushed past everyone else, I was only going to get dragged along with the current. Inside of the hallway, I struggled past unfamiliar faces, they all looked back at me aggressively, but all of that slid past me in a blur. The only thing that was on my mind was Jade and to confirm if she was actually still here at this school. I got to the classroom that she would be at right now - class 245, her homeroom. Maybe if I intercepted her in the hallway, then we could do a tiny meet-and-greet, and then everything would be fine. Though, my stomach churned. It felt like whisking through a bowl of mash potatoes, and everything would come flying out of the bowl if I slipped up just one bit. I tripped. Something I could not name sloshed in my stomach - Bagels and cream cheese; I just thought of it. And I would have it again for breakfast, tomorrow and the day after that. Just like every morning. Then, at the bus stop, all the fresh stories that I had in my mind to tell would push and shove at each other. Which one was the most important story to tell Jade? This charade would go on until the bus had docked at the school. There was this one story: I was making my down I-90, going at a good 50 mph. Another car pulled up next to me furiously. The driver inside looked like the guy that would be his wife over a tiny mosquito bite. He did some weird head movement – left, right and up, then back at me. Gave me the meanest look I’ve ever seen – the one’s middle school teachers have when calling somebody’s parents on the phone. He flexed his face muscles so tight they blocked out all the sun in his eyes. His car started to drift on the road, noticed what was happening and panicked - crashed right into the side railing on the highway. I poked my head out the window. nice lead foot, butterbean! Maybe I was the one with the lead foot? He waddled out of the driver’s side to assess the damage. His day had just begun, and it was just as much in a wreck as his car. I almost crashed myself looking at him all hopeless; it was better to pay attention to the road. Or when I came home from school. My father looked at me from the table in the same way that the guy in the black vehicle looked at me - he had the keen eyes of a lion. And as if I had intended to prance away, he got up from the table and pawed his way over. I quickly ran into the kitchen, opened the fridge to take shelter, but I forgot that I was 16 now so I didn’t fit inside. He lunged at my arm and lifted me up. “Your mother told me that you wanted to take the side road and go for a career in science. Now if your bill-nye looking ass can craft me a solution that would convince me you have a life ahead of you, then it’s best you make it quick. I didn’t waste my sperm for some elementary career. I bought you guitars and spent my money towards all that music-thing-and-junk. You just threw it all down and step on it like an anthill and you know what? That shit going to come out and bite, and you wish you not stepped on it in the first place. Understand that.” Blobs of snot started to drip from his nose, and his face transformed into a mess of sweat and tears. His voice grew louder, like stepping on the gas pedal to a car. Press it, and the engine starts to roar, gradually softer and softer as the pedal becomes untouched. Press the pedal again, and it roars back to life. His voice roared throughout the house, rambled on for a bit, then burst back into a yell. After a verbal scolding, he left the house, jumped into his pickup truck, and started for the nearest cigarette house. I stood there unable to grasp ahold of all his words at once as they floated suggestively in the air around me. demand, hang, unwanted. Those were the only three words I got from his whole lecture. It was just me and my dad – my mom wasn’t even around the house, nor did she visit. She was working full-time and wasting away in some textile warehouse. My sister was dead. So, to greet a man that I can’t even give the title of father to everyday gives the most sour feeling in the world. If I was any younger, then I’d hand myself over to the police. But what’s an 18-year-old going to do now that he’s living as an adult? I’m about as equal to him. Living with the same restrictions, and freedoms of the new reality I live in. But what about the time that I tried to, you know, end it? I forgot that I even held onto that story. The house was empty, and my father had been out at the morgue as usual (he goes out really early by seven and savors his time spent for a good nine hours before returning home, to this hellhole). It was a half-day at school, and I arrived three hours before my dad came home, meaning I had some alone time to myself. All alone. I could distinctly recall hearing Bach’s come sweet death as soon as I looked up the stairs. The climb looked rather slow, even though it only took seconds to take a flight of fifteen steps. I started up the steps, reached the top, and took a slight right to my bedroom. My backpack and all that other waste was dropped behind somewhere as I no longer felt it in my hand. The room was dark with the tiniest bit of sunlight reaching inside. I didn’t even bother turning on the light. Reaching for my drawer, I grabbed the notebook inside and found a pencil lying around all the pictures that I drew the night before. They were more of scribbles and doodles that belonged in the trash anyways. A ball - at least that’s what I could make from the mess. Multiple lines overlapped each other in an amateur-like fashion, all done hard-handed and repeated almost ten times over on the same page. “Goodbye” I said, taking my supplies with me. I entered the bathroom, closed the door, and made sure it was locked. If the lock was twisted horizontally, that means it was still open - which it wasn’t. The room reminded me of those old seventy’s hotels with the poor fluorescent lighting. Everything inside was painted in a sickly green. With the notebook opened, I started to write out every word that flowed from my fingers. I’m sorry to anybody that is unfortunate enough to read this. I paused. Images of my childhood up until my adolescence rolled past me and I was beginning to feel the reality of what I was doing setting in. It hit harder than hearing “its terminal” from any doctor. My hand shook as a flood of emotions poured out within me. Saliva began to drip from my bottom lip (I didn’t even know I was salivating). I went through with it. I’ve already concluded that my life was stolen from me, and to do a reset would be the best route. I can only go downhill from here. It’s just been swallowing me whole ever since my sister died, and the misfortune that I’ve experience in life has been crushing, and I can no longer hold it up. I don’t even have the money to go to therapy. Even if I wanted to, my father wouldn’t allow it. So, this is goodbye. I swallowed a heave of snot, hiccupped and burped out my last sentence. I couldn’t change a thing. Two hours till dad gets home, and I’ve already found the razor blade. The tub had already filled to the top, but I kept the water going. The tub looked deeper than I remember despite all the baths I’ve taken in my life, and the water seemed to never rise further. But something stopped me despite all the voices coming from the raging faucet, telling me: do it. There was Jade, who I just recently befriended. She was kind, sweet and everything about her was what I could expect from a younger sibling. We had the same interests too – drag racing, drawing and all of the fancy fine-arts stuff we’ve been familiar with since middle school. We just met this year too. She favored vanilla over chocolate, loved the Beatles and even talked about how she had the hardest crush on the singer – you know, Iggy pop? Oh, wait, he’s a drummer? I wouldn’t think it was the drummer she had the hots for, is it? Hey, Jade, I didn’t tell you I tried to hurt myself did I? Please, I need your advice, Jade. But Jade wasn’t there. It’s as if all traces of her have disappeared. No matter how many stories I tell Jade now, she wouldn’t even hear one of them. A faint scent of strawberry perfume hung through the air – almost like the brand that Jade used: Curvvy, and immediately, I recognized where it was coming form. Turning my head, I expected to see Jade – her beautifully dyed dark green hair, pierced ears. Wearing the same stupid velvet colored sweater that she wore almost every day to school. But it wasn’t Jade, it was a different women. I looked at her, and she looked at me. Disconnected, staring blankly ahead past my eyes, and into my sins. A monster.

Lunch was the most uneventful it has been. Today’s menu was a bread roll,corn dog and coleslaw for the side. Or cheese; they had that too. The bread roll tasted like sandpaper and the fall-off-the-dog breading of the corndog was too soft to savor. It slid right down the throat. Lunch here had never tasted this bad, or at least without Jade around. Am I cycling back into depression? The thought itself sparked panic in me, but my emotions sank, and gently laid back into the tub’s warm waters. I could think clearly again, and about what I needed to do about, Mello. Mello, it just … it sounds like it wants you to relax before unfavorable things begin to happen. Like how they expect you to act before anesthesia – you know, “Mellow out” and count to ten backwards. Then poof! The lights are out. You don’t know if you’re dead (until you wake up). Mellow also could be used as a pillow brand, or even the name for a medicine – except they’d spell it as “Melohh” for consumer appeal. People have weird tastes. Water with lime and a cup of sugar: someone in the world likes it. Maybe Mello could just be a pen name to cover her real name. Why would anyone name their child to be Mello? From what I saw, she fit the mold of a Jessica or Katie with those long curly locks she had. They looked like seagull wings. Just as I was investigating the meaning behind these thoughts, the lunch bell had rung, and everyone synchronously got up from their seats. A stampede of students headed from one area of the cafeteria, into the second half, and out the double doors where it would lead into the main hall. Mello was nowhere in the crowd. At the front were most of the boys, while the girls took it slow and tailed along in the back. Those girls all had brown hair, or some other funky color. Only a few girls wore blonde hair, but none of their styles caught wind like Mello’s. Two containers of hair-gel would hold her hair in place. People started to disappear from the door as they scattered out into the halls. People chattered and talked about the latest drama on television – digging gold – or this and this reason they hate about their next class. Someone at the front of the crowd said “Mello”… it was about the pizza join off of Jull Road. I am starving for a proper meal. The crowd was less crowded, and I started for the front of the cafeteria. I entered the hallway, and made a left- connecting into another hallway, and turned right to go up the stairwell. I opened the door and made my way towards the steps. Someone had called out to me within the second flight, looking through the bars window from above. “Dude” he said. He was looking down at me. I climbed up to meet him at the landing – the middle of the stairs, a large platform that connects the second and first floor stairs. I caught up with him and we continued to walk. “You straight?” he asked me. I swear that was his go-to phrase for any scenario. If someone had just broken their back falling off their motorcycle, would they be straight then? No, I’m in pain! – is what they’d probably say. I just said something. “Yeah, yeah”. “alright”. We continued to walk in silence. The trip was long. There was my classroom around the corner, though we came closer, and it read 222. The second floor is mirrored, so it’s hard to tell what part you’re in. They purposely made it into a labyrinth – freshmen must love it. “It’s not worth it” Josh said. His stench was beginning to wear off. “I told you, blonde girls like her are not my type-”. “No, just the fact you’re looking for her. She’ll notice you.” Josh finished his sentence. I could’ve sworn that we we’re being watched. I turned my head, but nothing. The moment felt oddly similar to a scene in horror movies, where the demon chasing the frightened protagonist would run across the hall behind her. She’d turn around - nothing would be there. Turns back and jumps as the demon is now in front of her. Except the jump space never came, it felt incomplete. Just then, the doors swung open. It was only a student and he rushed into the bathroom that we were just passed (didn’t he not see it was girl’s only?) I turned to face Josh. “Not a chance”. He let out a tsk. “When you like a girl, you stare at her, and she’ll probably stare at you back. It’s just a law. When you purposely search for someone, they’ll try to search for you too”. “I did cross her in the hallways, she looked at me, but didn’t really care all that much-” His eyes popped out and suddenly he stopped speaking to me. He just pursed his lips for the rest of our trip. His expression was worrisome. If I had a projector, maybe I could plug it into his brain and see what he was thinking about. But this isn’t sci-fi, it’s reality. Cold and harsh. We separated ways and I waved at him. He waved back at me holding an invisible hammer. I started for my classroom located right across the hall from where his faced. Now I was the vulnerable one. But nobody approached me handing out business cards, nor did I see Mello on my way out. Josh really wanted me to soak in the fact that being involved Mello was bad news. His strained eyes popped into my head, and he slowly transformed into a Muppet – except if they overdosed on cocaine. I laughed slightly at the thought. Muppet josh turned his head towards me. His front view was terrifying. This is why I rarely watched television, not even the technicolor Tv that we have in the living room. The Muppet’s terrified me. Luckily, it’s all fiction. But child-like me thought I could actually meet up with Kermit. “MEET THE MUPPETS”, plastered on a big white suspicious van. I’d forcefully piss my pants. I sat in my seat just as the second bell rang and people started to talk gossip. It’s been a good week since the incident happened, and already, it seems like people were hearing it for the first time. Actually, she became a running joke. It now became a challenge: Who could make the most ridiculous but believable rumor on Mello. One student free-styled his story. “Mello was making her way down the hall after getting snacks from the vending machine, she happened to touch Hallie’s tits and they both called each other gay. Jade (my heart hurt) had an affair with Halie and tried to lure Mello into the pool. Jade failed to stab Mello, and she fought back. Halie was going to meet Jade for some “good stuff”, but she saw Mello on the way down thinking – why is Mello meeting with Jade? Because Mello killed Jade-” Yeah, that was hard to get behind. Even the most expressive editors would reject that idea. Also, his story wasn’t even well grounded, first, Mello killed Jade because Mello touched Hallie’s tits? There’s nothing to connect Jade and Mello in that story. The story left me before I could even construct any logic from it. His friends even said “Wah?” once he finished his insane rambling – shows just how obnoxious it was. Though, because there’s no real story, this is all people have to rely on. Soon, Jades name will become nothing more than a running joke used to create mass-produced fiction. The worst part is nobody knows what happened. Lies will become the truth. Halie is the only one in the whole school who even got to figuring the first clue in the incident, yet she is disabled. Behind the scenes, Mello could easily be threatening or making her pig-slop miserable to the point where hiding her face is all she can do. I looked at her - she’s still covering her face. It’s almost become routine for her. If she lifted her head, would she be crying? A student crossed her desk and set a piece of paper on top of her. She didn’t respond but pawed at the paper and brought it under her arms. As if it was magic, a piece of paper was sitting on my desk as well. Five in fact. I realized what I need to do and handed the rest of the sheets to the impatient students behind me. The page read, “WAYMOUR HIGH SCHOOL CLUBS 2005-2009”. Below the title was a list of after-school activities students could join and attend. There was a footnote just below that: “Students are welcome to sign-up for a club starting 8/14/05 in the cafeteria, right before third block”. I briefly looked at the list of clubs: “art club, anime club, swim club, Asian culture club, game club”. And then “game club” printed, again? Surely it was an error, so I looked passed that. Jaiden was hosting his “Comics club” again: will it be a fall-out like last year? Class swept by me in an hour, which felt like ten minutes. Second blocks felt slower, the teacher – Mrs. Wattson – gave out more reading lectures and follow-along notes for Frankenstein. Second block was finally released, I took a quick bathroom break and started for the cafeteria. The line ate up ten minutes of my time and I only had a good 30 minutes remaining to gorge down a peeled hot-dog and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I took one bite out of each and went to throw-up inside the bathroom, washed my face and went out of the bathroom. Just as I was going for another trip to the water fountain, I saw Josh standing inside of the bathroom. Inside the girl’s bathroom, talking to someone? Their voices brawled and were completely inaudible. I opened the door slightly and they seemed quieter than when I first heard them. The girl peaking from inside the stall smiled and blah-ed on about hairstyles and clothes that were disgustingly vibrant. Gorgeous neon pink shirts. The stalker in me was turned off and I backed away from the door. The door began to close, but as the piece of metal that held the lock in the door frame was about to click, she stared right at me. She somehow saw me through the one-inch gap between the door’s frame and the door itself. My whole body froze. She slammed open the back door and ran for the first door that connected the girl’s bathroom. My whole body, now pushing against that door. “I swear to god, you better open the fuck up!”. She was pushing against me, forcefully. Kicking my feet against the wall, I created a plank with my back and held the door shut. The door pulsated open, and then closed. Louds bangs roared from inside followed by more of her screams “open the door!”. A final slam on the door with her palm and she’d given up. Her hand smeared down the back and she fell on her knees, falling into a sob. “You’re so mean! You’re so mean!”. The girl let out an ungodly hiccup of mucus and tears. My back relaxed and looked back at the door. But, she stopped, and now… was, laughing? The girl was laughing now. “hahaha!”. Frightened, I spotted a desk sitting from one of the classrooms nearby, prayed she didn’t open the door and caged her in by sticking the chair between the wall and the doors handle. The storm went on, and the eye had passed. All of her anger was concentrated on that door and made the hinges that held it in place look fragile. It was loud. I sprinted out from the bathroom halls, jumped down the stairs that lead near the library and went out the back to hide in the courtyard. Stone statues of angels and perfectly and cut hedges led me into the garden. Sitting in the middle of the row of bushes was a single picnic table. There was bread, butter, and some honey on the side – which had already been mostly drained. “RESERVED” is what it said on the bench. And just next to that sign was a smaller sign. I came closer and read what it said. “Game club”. A sheet of paper sat on the table with my name already on it. As I was trying to piece together the scene, someone hugged me from behind and snapped me out of my trance. Their scent bloomed of fresh strawberries. “Don’t ever leave me behind again, you big meanie”.

Was there really such thing as true terror? I believed it. The feeling pumped through my body and became rather, potent. My entire nervous system fired off a huge rush of adrenaline that almost took my off my feet. The courtyard became nothing but a blur. I slowly turned around to face her, and I swear my neck twisted too far that it almost chocked me. There’s Mello, standing right in front of me. Was this even real? Mello, the girl rumored for killing Jade – my best friend. She’s still standing in this school, and no charges were filed against her. Not even compensation towards the family. The beast that climbed down those stairs and put that put girl – Hailie – in a cycle of trauma for the rest of her life, and here she was, Mello, in my arms. Students walked past the doors. Lunch was already out and I didn’t even realize that the bell had already gone off. I nudged my way out of her arms and started for the door. The handle seemed close, but she held me back and pulled me in. “Please don’t leave” she muttered. That baby face she put on reminded me of the song “I would do anything for love but that”. She’s a good beggar. Was I willing to open up to her? Her face was just too sad, but not the concerned type. It was like sad but with a layer of anger behind it. That was proved as her grip tightened on my wrist. Mello dragged me towards the table and set me down to lunch – getting a better look, the bread looked to be two days stale and the butter was already melted. It took my appetite away (it’s not like I had an appetite in the first place). She prepared the bread delicately and smeared on the butter unevenly, dazzled a zigzag of honey on top and offered me the piece. Service with a smile, of course. But, that smile was meant to put me off guard. Regardless, I took the bread piece and stuffed it in my mouth. It just sat in my mouth and gradually became a soggy mess, then would fall back onto the plate in an unappealing goo known as my spit. She gave me an “are you going to finish that” look and reached for the bread. I gave the go-to signal and she took a bit off the other side of the bread where she had piled on more honey. It was a gruesome sight. Honey dripped from her mouth and caught it with her finger, socketed it in her mouth, and stared up at me with eager eyes. My heart started to beat in more than one place; a thought formed in my head - a fantasy, of me and Mello. I felt like I was dying. Just then, Mello bounced up from her seat and her boobs just slightly jumped in a suggestive manner. The seduction was too intense. And to think it couldn’t get more unbearable, she leaned in and pressed her boobs against the table. “Brandon” she said cheerfully. My dumbfounded-ness spoke for me. “Mello”. “Brandon. How’s your day?”. The Lolita in her voice started to shine. Her cheeks stuffed into her dimples, giving off the perfect smile. The get-up was almost too perfect. Meanwhile, I was deciding how to approach even talking to her. “Fine, and you?”. “Terrible everything was against me today” she went into actual sadness that it was almost terrifying “Joshi (I think she meant Josh) just refused to listen to me, and we broke it off. He was my everything Brandon. It went like this. We went to the store to pick up some jewelry. I wanted five of the same kind; it was only five hundred dollars too. He said that he was fine with the purchase and wanted to pay with his credit card. I said, ‘you don’t love me enough that you’d want to pay with your debit card?!’. I cried all the way through the store, and we had a little fight in there. I slapped him on the cheek, and I left, and I just like-”. Makeup was melting off her eyes; she was actually crying. But the little fight part threw me off. For all I know, their little fight probably ended up with Mello throwing pots and pans at him from the kitchen isle. The thought was entertaining. Josh and, oh-so-perfect Mello, tossing around pots and pans at each other like it’s a pillow fight. Josh had a bruise on his left knee, but I’d like to believe that was from track practice and not an actual pots-and-pans fight. Either way, this story sounds too ridiculous. But Mello wasn’t done with her story. “I wanted to end it all. So, I stood in the middle of the street and waited for some dumb fucking truck to crush me. It never came and the police dragged me to the sidewalk, so I bit my tongue, but they wrapped a shirt around my mouth. It tasted so gross too like old man sweat. Why is everyone so cruel to me?”. One last symphony of sobs from her, and she finally settled. Was it over? I took advantage of her non-stop blabbering and cut right to the bone. “Did you kill Jade?”. Her face cleared up; her innocence faded and gave me that braindead doll stare. “No, why?”. It was quick, but I understood her. “Then who?”. “She did” My heart thumped a little louder. “But I just egged her on”.

It was early in the morning and me and Jade just arrived at school. Everyone’s brothers and sisters, and sisters’ friends, nephews (you get it, total rands) hung out in the main commons are. Me and Jade walked around in the hallways like we were circling the mall. The janitor’s closet was open; the light was on and illuminated a sign. It said “CAUTION” with the same standardized cartoonish man slipping on water. We passed the elevator just across the janitor’s closet and started for the library. Except we didn’t go in, we hung out next to the open doors almost every morning. Jade, especially, felt safe around here as there were no fingers that could make her more self-aware of how she dressed. How she wore that stupid velvet sweater. It was her signature look, even more important than her dyed hair (which stuck out like a river in the desert). Ah I see now; the color hair matched her name – Jade. We talked about our favorite bands and how unpopular their singers were. Of course, we had to talk about the drummer – Iggy pop. That was almost guaranteed to come up sometime in the conversation. Even if we were talking about the process of carbonization, Iggy pop would appear somewhere. A moment of silence passed, some guy wearing a blue jacket passed us with a unique t-shirt - “FLOCK YOU!”. We laughed at how stupid that sounded. How was that phrase even marketable? That kid was a punchline for the next two minutes or so. It would eventually become an inside joke between us – “Hey man, flock you!”. Basic middle school jargon. Jade turned to me, it was swift, her swung a bit too fast. “How are you feeling today?”. “I’m doing a lot better. I wasn’t that insane to go through with it, even though I felt different then. It kind of scares me just how recent it was. It’s like, that’s all I can think about, and just the fear from it, I don’t want to know when it’ll happen again.”. She paused in thought. “Well, if you look too far back, you’d lose sight of what’s in front of you. Just… try to focus that energy, on something, more productive. Like your art. Trust me, it helps”. “I guess that helps”. “The flock (there’s that inside joke) you want me to do? I’m a full-time student, not a full-time therapist”. I laughed humorously at her attempt to cheer me up. Though it seemed like now, Jade was nervous. She has been exaggerating her hand gestures when telling me that joke, and even so when we would talk. This sort of movement from Jade was nothing new, she’d done this often. But only if she had something to vent about, like her sinister aunt that makes her date poundcakes every Christmas. I had a slice: it tasted dirty. I didn’t bother to ask her. But instead, she asked me something. “Have you seen Halie?”. “No, why?”. “I need to give her my swimsuit; I think she’s in your first period”. Hailie? The name didn’t strike me at first, but I remember some face named Hailie – she was the one who helped me up when we were all out playing field soccer. I tried to say thanks, but she ignored me. Good sportsmanship advocate, Hailie. Jade handed me the swimsuit, and I will say, it felt a little too out in-the-open to be touching something that’s been rubbed on a girls naked body. Hopefully, the thing was washed, but it still felt dirty. First period came around and I gave the swimsuit to Hailie. Or I tried. She gave me a snarky look. “I don’t want it” She checked the front of the swimsuit. “Oh wait, okay never mind. I want it, gib me.” She took the swimsuit and gave a lofty thanks. I headed back to my seat thinking about what made that swimsuit’s number so special. “224” I repeated to myself.

The Seed of Change

Author:

amieine

The Monster of Waymore High (Part 1)

The Seed of Change

Please log in to leave a comment.