I Don't Like it at All
“We do not see things as they are, but as we are”
- Anaïs Nin, free interpretation of the Talmud.
Wednesday flew by amid boring lab classes and a bunch of math fractions. The only thing that saved me was the art class and an unscheduled visit to Gleice. I needed to tell her how much The Divine Comedy had charmed me and that those deep dark circles were solely the fault of the book.
Claudio spent the whole break with menthol and Natasha, not the vodka, unfortunately. Which caused total disinterest in him on my part. Yes, I had a crush on my best friend ever, that’s for sure, but while it was obvious, it never seemed to stop him from rubbing his novels on my nose.
At least, by showing the signed authorization, a risk of excitement crossed those emerald eyes.
On Thursday morning, a tour bus was waiting for us at the school door. We couldn’t risk leaving our backpacks in the classroom, so we stood in the sun until the driver decided we could get up.
Miss Bianca was a true Commander in action with her black combat boots and all. She walked with her shirt inside her cargo-laden shorts, and her belly always hung over her belt. It was not a pretty sight to behold, not from the physical, far from it, but from the heavy energy like the black cloud that accompanied her footsteps.
I poked the bottom of my bag to see if the bologna sandwich was still intact, and by the time I turned my attention to the bus, there were already euphoric people lining up to get into it. I couldn’t find Claudio that high, so I ducked into the freshmen and seniors, getting some cursing and elbowing in response as our bodies collided.
My friend was sitting in the middle of the driving. He nodded cheerfully to me and almost indicated the seat beside him when something very bony made me unbalance and fall with my hands on the disgusting floor of the vehicle.
Anger and pain mingled with my features before I even saw Natasha’s visibly fake sneakers run over my head. Her abyss eyes swallowed me before she took my place and her lips curled into a vile smile that only faded when her face was mingling with Claudio’s.
Quickly, I jumped to the side, avoiding being trampled. I chose the first vacant chair and took a deep breath. There were dark spots on my light jeans that were sure to be grease. The base of my palms burned with the scratches and I didn’t even have anything to cover that annoying wound.
I looked at the couple over my shoulder, sighing as I noticed the inevitable: Claudio didn’t give a damn about me.
As soon as the engine growled and the space beside me filled with some girl, I slipped the pair of earbuds into my ears and let the surrounding world dissipate into mist.
We had a one-hour trip ahead.
An hour of music is a lot of music.