Dear Blue Heart

The girl that sat in front of her confused her in too many ways to count. For one, she had the build of an athlete; her figure was slim but composed of lean muscle, showing ever-so-slightly through brown, smooth skin. It wasn’t the weight-lifting kind of built; it was more like the kind of figure you got from playing volleyball or even scrambling over fences. The thing was, as far as Chantelle knew, the girl wasn’t in any sports. That was fair; it wasn’t too baffling to consider. Maybe the girl simply enjoyed going to the gym?

What was truly baffling was the fact that, of all the classes offered on the course selection sheets handed out at the end of the year, the girl had chosen Creative Writing. She didn’t write. Chantelle was certain of that. Every time Chantelle’s eyes wandered away from her work and found themselves on the teen, she was always texting on her phone or sleeping with earbuds shoved unceremoniously into either of her ears.

That wasn’t the case currently, though. For once, the girl was typing away on her school-provided tablet, bobbing her head to whatever was playing in her earbuds. Chantelle leaned forward a little, peeking over her peer’s shoulder to see if her eyes were fooling her.

Yeah. Those were definitely words being typed into a document. A document that read— Chantelle squinted her eyes a little, pushing her glasses a little higher on the bridge of her nose— Deflowering Virgin Mary. Wait.

Deflowering Virgin Mary?!

“What the hell are you writing?”

The question was flying out of her mouth before she could think to stifle it. Not only had the words escaped without her consent, but they’d also apparently escaped far too loudly. Half of the class turned in her direction, expressing a variety of blatant shows of utter confusion. Truly, it didn’t seem fair. That was how Chantelle felt, and she for one thought she had very good reason to feel so. Not to mention, if half of the class were also able to see the title of the document the teen in front of her had had the audacity to type out, they would have reacted exactly the same way if not worse.

In retrospect, it might not have been the question she had asked itself that had aroused her classmates’ attention. It might have had far more to do with the fact that Chantelle didn’t talk much at all. Really, she didn’t speak much in her Creative Writing class or any class for that matter. That only made the situation that much more embarrassing, and when the teen in front of her turned to look her in the eye, she didn’t make it any better.

“I didn’t even know you were capable of talking until now,” the girl said, narrowing her eyes at her. With her body twisted sideways in her desk, Chantelle now had a clearer view of the document and it turned out the document title was only the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the story— if you could even call it that— was downright pornographic. With every vulgar word her eyes managed to catch, she felt her skin flare hotter and hotter.

The document’s owner didn’t seem even the least bit embarrassed. On the contrary, she smiled a smile so bright and pleased it did something to Chantelle’s stomach.

“You can’t be this shook,” she said and followed the statement up with words spoken far too loudly for her taste. “I know you’ve seen worse. I mean, you have watched porn, right? We all have needs. This is no different.”

Chantelle didn’t know what to say because she was shocked. She didn’t watch porn; she found it gross and distasteful to anyone with a modicum of self-respect.

“Wait, what?” the boy to the right of the teen asked, leaning over to peek at the document. His eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “You’re writing biblical porn? On a school tablet? Akia, please.”

Chantelle turned that name over and over in her head and felt so utterly removed that she only vaguely heard when Akia replied, “it’s not biblical porn. That’d be blasphemous. The woman getting screwed just happens to be a virgin named Mary.”

“You have a thing for virgins?”

“So what if I do? Are you offering something?”

“Who says I’m still even a virgin?”

“Doesn’t make me any less interested.”

“You’re both disgusting.”

Once again, her mouth failed her before her brain could catch up enough to save her and Chantelle winced. The pair once again turned to regard her like she had suddenly grown two heads. Or, perhaps more accurately, as if she’d always had two heads but they had only just noticed the second of the pair.

“Okay, Mother Teresa,” the boy said mockingly.

“Do you even have a name?” Akia asked in a tone carrying just as much condescension.

Once again, her lips suddenly felt glued shut.

Akia tilted her head, walking her fingers across the desk slowly before making a grab for the lanyard around her neck. She ran her hands to the end of the ribbon-like material to flip her ID over and take in the details sprawled across the piece of plastic.

“Chantelle Bloom,” she read slowly.

Akia spoke her name as if it were a name entirely out of the ordinary, but that felt like the least of Chantelle’s worries when she leaned even closer than she already was.

“Well, Chantelle,” she said, “what you just said sounds like something a virgin would say.”

This time Akia didn’t sound mocking. Instead, the words came across as flirtation, maybe even a suggestion of sorts. A suggestion, as it turns out, that Chantelle wanted absolutely nothing to do with. Her throat still felt too tight to actually tell Akia so even as the teen continued to stare at her expectantly for a long while.

“My guy, leave her alone,” the boy said, laughing at Chantelle’s internal suffering that apparently wasn’t internal enough. “She looks like she’s a second away from an aneurysm.”

Akia didn’t even bother responding to him. She only leaned closer, her expression innocent but her eyes anything but when she asked, “wanna play?”

No, was the answer that came to mind, but her lips stupidly formed something else entirely. “What do you mean?”

“Do you go for girls?”

“...”

“Sexually, I mean?”

“I know.”

“So?”

Chantelle frowned, but couldn’t find it within herself to lean away. Something about Akia was alluring, dragging her in like a siren’s call. Something about Akia made Chantelle want to throw away a lifetime of built up inhibitions and simply go for it. Maybe it was due to Chantelle’s bruised pride? Maybe it had something to do with Akia’s confidence? Chantelle wasn’t even sure if she should call it confidence, really. It may have been an ego; vanity.

Whichever way it was, Chantelle couldn’t help but relent in the face of it.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m bored,” Akia explained with a smirk, sitting up straighter and drawing little circles on the desk with her index finger. “Wanna fuck around and find out?”

“I-” Chantelle gulped. “You mean... literally?”

Akia suddenly spun around to sit correctly in her desk and raised her voice loud enough to be heard by the teacher across the classroom. “Ma’am, would it be alright if Chantelle and I went to the tech office to get my tablet checked out? It’s not working right, but I don’t know where his room is. Chantelle offered to show me.”

Now, ordinarily, she was almost certain their teacher would say no to such a request. But, as it turned out, attaching her own name to it made the claim seem that much more trustworthy and, after only a few seconds of consideration, their teacher allowed it.

Chantelle’s mouth fell open wide.

Before she could argue against it, Akia was tugging her out of her seat and, subsequently, out of the door.

Chantelle shut her eyes and steeled herself with long, deep breaths as Akia led them to what seemed to be the direction of the bathroom. She had to remind herself that, no matter what transpired, this didn’t matter. After high school graduation that was quickly rounding the corner, Chantelle would go off to college and she would never ever in a thousand years have to see Akia again.

Right?

That’s what she thought, anyway.