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I’m late. Again. To no one’s surprise.
I fucking hate this school. The hordes of zombies, this gym class, the asshole who worries me, doing badly & being intimidated in any & all sports, the gay retarded bear crawls I have to do every time I’m late.
The teacher just shakes his head at me once I finally emerge from the boy’s locker room. Long gone is my Downward Spiral shirt, now I’m in my prison attire: Columbine’s gym uniform. My eyes look up before starting my bear crawls & see the colored flags on everybody’s waists. Great. Another stupid game I’m going to be uncoordinated at. This period can’t be over soon enough.
During my humiliation ritual, I see her. ██████████. Pensive, quiet, an observer. She’s not looking at me thankfully, she’s just sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor, picking at the skin around her nails. I think she hates this class too, she’s not very good at this sort of shit. I’ve never so much as said ‘Hello’ to her, but her voice rings in my head like an ear worm song. The good ear worm, not something gay like Tubthumping. No, she’s A Warm Place.
As I crawl past her, I catch a whiff of her scent today. That’s one of those little idiosyncrasies about her: she’s really into perfume. I’ve noticed she’s not the type of girl to douse herself in the same shit every day. I literally don’t think I’ve ever smelled the same scent on her twice. I wouldn’t know the name of the perfume she’s wearing today. But it’s, dare I say, nice? It’s not that gawd awful cucumber one that a lot of girls around here drown themselves in. It’s sweet, I want to say pear & some type of flowery shit. I don’t know, but it fits her. Sweet, yet tart. Fitting. To most people, she probably looks scary, but based off of what little I know about her, that reputation couldn’t be further from the truth. Not that she doesn’t have an edge to her, I’ve seen her wear a shirt that proclaimed “KILL GOD, KILL YOUR MOM AND DAD, KILL YOURSELF” briefly before administration forced her to change.
I try to shake my thoughts from my head as if it was a damn Etch a Sketch to no avail. Shit. I’m going to be thinking about this all day, aren’t I?
I finish up this gay shit crawl & get given a flag to wear. Green, just like my Doom multiplayer suit. Hers is red. I wonder if she’s ever played Doom. I tie the stupid thing on & join the guys end of the gym. It’s a boys vs. girls match today.
Fuck me, I keep staring at her. I don’t think she’s noticed. But when I take a moment to re-tie my shoe, I can feel eyes on me. I glance up at her with an open heart, but she quickly turns her attention to her Converse. I think I can feel my heart beating in my throat.
After the teacher finishes droning on about the rules, the game begins. She’s not exactly fast, but she hasn’t gotten her flag taken yet. One douche bag gets a little too close & my stomach turns to knots. I don’t want him to touch her, especially her waist. It should be me.
What the fuck am I even thinking? She’s not my girl. But damn if I don’t feel this surge to claim her before anyone else does.
Fuck it.
I feel like fuckin’ Seabiscuit the way I’m galloping at full speed towards her. She hears my sneakers pounding on the linoleum & looks up at me with wide eyes, not expecting this display of boldness even from someone with ‘bold’ in their surname. I don’t even bother grabbing her flag, I tackle her hard onto the ground. She lets out some sort of strangled, painful sound at the collision of our bodies & I land on top of her, my forearms anchoring around her head.
She’s soft & her scent overwhelms me in a good way. I can’t help but stare into her eyes, how her eyes look startled but not scared. She’s staring at me too & with our proximity she probably feels my erratic heart beat. Why isn’t she shoving me off, yelling at me to stop being a freak, or worse calling me a pervert?
“Are you okay?” I breathe, hoping she knows I didn’t plan on hurting her.
She looks like she can barely speak, maybe I did take her breath away figuratively & literally. “Mhm,” comes out of her mouth, but to me it sounds like a repressed moan. God.
Her voice is so beautiful, my body is screaming at me to just get it over with already and be a man, a conqueror. That scene from that dumb Disney flick plays on loop in my head, that fuckin’ crab singin’ at me to ‘kiss the girl’. Could have been worse, could have been that WB frog.
I feel myself turning red. I’m not just touching her, I’m on top of her. How is this real & not a daydream? Please please please kiss me first, I don’t think I have it in me.
What felt like eons was in all actuality probably just five fuckin’ seconds. I feel a rough hand on the collar of my shirt, gripping & forcefully tearing me apart from my fate. I think she groaned from the loss of my weight, & now the other girls swarm her like flies.
I hear the teacher screaming something at me, but it just sounds like TV static buzzing to my ears. She’s blushing now too, likely embarrassment at attention being on her. But there’s this look in her eyes, as if she’s pleading with me to come back to her.
The girls voice their fake concern, looking over her body to see any injuries & turning their noses up at me. A trio of them murmur between themselves, looking between the two of us & laughing.
“Yo Stretch, you tryin' to stretch her out like a damn rubber band?” Some fag calls out, eliciting laughs from the zombies.
I don’t respond. Why bother? Responding never stops it. The teacher is telling me to leave her alone. But that’s the thing: I can’t. I’m starving to touch her again, & you can’t just take away a pumpkin spice cake from a starvin’ man. That’s cruel & unusual punishment.
The game starts up again. We’re staring at each other as if we were cowboys trying to stake claim over the same town as we maneuver out of the way from the zombie fags. This gym ain’t big enough for the two of us. One of us is going to have to draw out their metaphorical pistol first. & if I was a betting man, I’d bet that I’ll be the one shot dead.
Some jock fag tries to approach her & internally I’m growling at him like a damn coyote whose meal is trying to be stolen by bobcats. White hats don’t get to touch her, only ones who wear a backwards Colorado Avalanche cap can.
She notices my scowling at the jock & averts him quickly, smirking at me. Almost as if she’s daring me to stake my claim.
She approaches me fast, stopping dead in front of me. My heart hammers in my throat. Do something, anything, to be with her. My hand reaches out to touch her, craving the warmth of her skin.
Her eyes dart to the green flag at my waist, slowly reaching for it. She touches it gingerly, as if it might burn her. Her fingers find the string, & yanks, making me stumble into her. Our bodies touch & she looks up at me with a grin, letting my flag fall to the floor.
Before I can respond, the teacher whistles & starts to scold her. I didn’t notice it, but apparently she took her own flag off right before yanking me. I look down at the ground to see our intertwined red & green flags, looking almost like Christmas decorations.
We head to the bleachers since we're both out, but get scolded again. We’re being made to sit at opposite ends and have to stay there for the remainder of the period. Some fuckin’ punishment. Not having to participate in gym class? Oh the horror.
He can’t stop us from staring at each other though & that’s what we do. Damn, if only I knew sign language or could communicate with her telepathically. But we make do, coming up with our own way to communicate with one another from other ends of the gym.
She looks at me, tapping her bare wrist, using the other hand to point at the clock. I look at the clock hanging on the wall, she can’t see the numbers from where she is sitting. I make a peace sign with my right hand & a zero with my left: 20 minutes left. She imitates suicide with her right hand forming a gun & putting it in her mouth, shooting. I grin, quietly laughing at her reaction. I do the same, making my left hand a gun & shooting my left temple.
We spend the next few minutes imitating forms of offing ourselves: hanging, choking, pretending to smash our faces into the bleachers. I pretend to snipe off random students and throw a pipe bomb, eliciting an eye roll from her with a laugh. I like how she isn’t freaked out by this. Maybe, one day, I can open up to her about it.
She lays down on the bleachers, staring over at me, a shy smile on her lips. I can’t help but grin back, probably far too goofy but I can’t really care too much right now. A girl, the girl, is showing interest in me. I feel like I’m in some fairy tale, having my wish granted by some obnoxious blue genie.
I’m making a list in my head of things to ask her when this isolation period ends: can I kiss you, will you sit with me at lunch, how are you so beautiful as the sun, can I kiss you, will you go out with me. God, I must be dreaming.
Realizing I'm zoning out at the wall, I blink rapidly & look back at her. She's still just staring at me, it reminds me of the way I watch her. Butterflies shred up my insides at that realization.
So we sit there for the remainder of class. Staring, studying, observing the other as if we were animals in a zoo. Bliss. So is this what it feels like to a human after all?
The teacher yells at us to go change as the rest of the class head to their locker rooms. We hadn't noticed the game ended, like this trivial shit even matters when you've found your love.
We slowly walk down the bleachers, stealing glances at each other before we're finally face to face again.
The gym is empty now, faint sounds of talk echoing from the locker rooms.
She closes the distance between us, standing on her tiptoes to reach me. Her arms snake their way around my neck, her fingers gripping the blonde curls at the nape of my neck & pulling me closer to her. My hand instinctively holds her cheek, I can feel the warmth coursing under my long fingers.
Now I'm the one whose breath has been taken away.
She bites her lower lip, searching my eyes for approval that she doesn't need to ask for. She could do whatever she wanted, & I think she's starting to realize that.
Her face inches closer to mine, & god she's intoxicating. It's madness. My hands find her hair & I run my fingers through it, her scent hitting me like a tsunami.
"Heaven," I whisper.
I close my eyes, our lips tentatively finding each other, a soft, tender kiss full of all the longing I've carried for her. I have to remind myself to breathe, gasping as our lips part, the widest grin I've ever had plastered on my face.
"Klebold!"
She jolts in my arms, & I instinctively reach out to protect her with my life, pushing her body flush against mine.
The teacher is gawking at us, pointing in the direction of the boys' locker room. An exasperated sigh leaves my mouth, my grip on her waist tightening.
Her voice comes out meekly, clearing her throat. "We should get changed before we get detention."
I follow her, still grinning so much that my cheeks ache. "Worth it."
Absolutely worth all this pining and anticipation.
I can't wait to kiss her again.