Monday, August 9th

7: 54 AM

~~~~~~~~Paul~~~~~~

The sky outside our school is overcast, which means we can expect rain sometime today. Their are still patches of blue here and there and the skies aren’t dark enough to be holding too much rain, but you never know when it comes to the weather. Already, the sounds of distant thunder can be heard.

“So... What do you have first period?” I ask Radley, who is standing next to me as we both look outside a huge window on the second floor of the school.

“I’ve got Theatre Arts.” he says.

“What exactly do you do in that class?” I ask, leaning towards him enough so I can smell his cologne. He doesn’t have too much of it on, because I can hardly smell it, but it’s still there and it smells good on him.

He just shrugs, still staring out the window, so he doesn’t know that I’m sniffing him. “I don’t know... I just heard a lot of people talking about it last year and from what I heard, we practice acting and writing plays to get over our stage fright because they do a big play at the end of the semester which is a big part of your final grade. It sounds like fun...” he looks over at me and manages to produce something related to a smile.

“What about you?” he asks.

It takes me a few moments to remember my schedule. “Nothing too special... Jessie, why don’t you join in this conversation?” I ask, looking over my shoulder to see my cousin leaning against the wall.

He just gives me his trademark ‘back off’ glare before stuffing his hands into the pouch of his blue and yellow hoodie.

“Other than Theatre Arts, I’ve got Food & Nutrition... which is another way to say cooking.” Radley tells me and I turn to look back at him.

Before anything else was said, the 8:00 bell rang. “I guess I’ll see you two at lunch.” I say, giving Radley a pat on the shoulder before turning to head down the hallway.

~~~~~~~~Jessie~~~~~~~~

I look over at Radley as he stares out the window, leaning against the window sill with Paul right beside him. They are talking about classes. I quickly lost interest in the conversation and turned to look up the hallway that the big window was located at the end of.

I see a lot of familiar faces. Some of them haven’t changed at all. Their hair is still the same way, they haven’t gotten any taller or fatter. Some of them have completely changed themselves. I see some longer hair that wasn’t there last year, some shorter hair, or just a different color.

I guess I am one of those people who haven’t changed. I think I have gotten a little taller, and I guess I have put on a few pounds. I’ve been eating a lot better over the summer, simply because I have someone who cares enough about me or has enough time to cook for me: Radley. During the summer, it was fairly common for me to stop by Radley’s house to have lunch and sometimes dinner. He always cooked as if he were trying to feed a small family instead of just himself. Maybe his parents eat the leftovers? I’ll have to ask him one day.

“Jessie, why don’t you join in this conversation?” Paul’s voice shot into my thoughts.

I looked up and in Paul’s direction to see him looking over his shoulder at me. His hair is back in its dreadlocks, framing his face in its streaked blonde-ness. His eyes are a weird color brown, its as if somebody took brown paint and mixed gold glitter in it to make the color of his eyes. That’s how his eyes look, brown with millions of tiny gold flecks in them. In fact, I would say that his eyes are gold instead of labeling them as brown.

I put my hands in the pouch of my hoodie, making sure I’ve got most of the stuff I need for my first period: Publications. Two pencils that are a tad too sharp, a scented eraser--I love the smell of strawberries, just don’t ask me how they put it in an eraser of all things--, my lunch money and a crumbled up piece of paper that has been there for weeks. I don’t even know what’s on it any more.

Before I get a chance to answer him, he turns away when Radley starts speaking to him again. I just roll my eyes as he uses Radley as an excuse to ignore me.

The only reason why I’m taking Publications is to help make the yearbook. The one we had last year sucked, if you ask me, so hopefully I can make it a little better. I’d probably design like I did with my room: a collage of pictures and symbols done in a graffiti kind of style. Although I doubt we will actually do something like that, there’s no reason not to at least try. And that is a lot coming from me. I normally don’t think optimistically.

The 8:00 bell rings and already their is a mass exodus of people moving down the hallway. Paul walks by me, giving me a short ‘see ya’ before pushing himself into the flood of bodies. Because the window sort of has its own little niche at one end of the hallway, Radley and I aren’t really bothered by the flow of people washing past.

It’s only been a few seconds and already the crowd is beginning to thin out. I was about to leave when I noticed that Radley was still staring out the window. “Come on, Radley... You’ll be late for class.” I warn him.

He turns around to face me and I give him my best attempt at a smile. “I’ll see you at lunch.” he tells me. I’ve known Radley long enough to know that even though he’s normally the last to speak or move in a group of people, this is actually considered out of the ordinary for him.

I just nod and he walks away without another word. I walk down a nearby side hall as I make my way to class.

Something must be really bugging him for him to be so down and gloomy when it was just yesterday that he was behaving so happily with his spontaneous laughter and the broadest smile I‘ve seen on his face since he told me he and Keith were going out.

Radley is an oddball, but even for him, this is pretty strange. Maybe he’s just nervous with the first day jitters? I’m not really good at guessing.

~~~~~~~~Radley~~~~~~~

8: 19

First period. The school theater is a dimly lit, wide open room. The stage is flooded in fairly bright lights while the area where the seats are positioned is quite dark. There is a good handful of us in the class. A little more over a dozen or so.

We are all sitting on the stage in a deformed circle, our rather young teacher sitting just to the right of me. I can’t pronounce her name, even though she’s said it a good eight or nine times in the past minute.

“I took Theatre in college.” she said, “But I wasn’t impressed with the way my old and wizened professor taught it. He took us through a good three months of nothing but the basics before we even discussed working on our first play... Most of my classmates would agree that those first few months were very boring, so based on their opinions, I’ve come up with a different way to teach the class. I don’t really know how this class has been taught here in the past, so I hope my method will be new and exciting.” she says.

She’s a fairly short, black woman, probably no taller than me. She’s quite thin and frail, very similar to a doll, if you ask me. She has what my mom calls a storyteller’s voice, one of those voices that you could hear every day for the rest of your life and never get sick of. My mom also told me that I have a storyteller’s voice because she claims that she has an office manager’s voice, one that is full of authority and lacking in compassion and that my dad has a wise man’s voice because his gruff voice makes him sound a lot older than he really is.

Her hair is in a loose ponytail, her eyes are dyed bluish-purple by contacts. She has just turned 23, it has barely been a year since she has graduated from college.

“What is your method?” asked a girl sitting across from me.

Ms. Zynasia smiled. “I’m not going to spend three months running over basics when I know that the main reason most of you signed up for this class was to act and have fun, right?” she said, her smile could be heard in her voice.

There was an unenthusiastic murmur that only lasted about four seconds before silence took over.

“How about this? We start off the year practicing for our big play while going over the things you probably don’t know or aren’t familiar with, because I’m pretty sure you can figure out half of it.”

There was a silence, so I took this time to look around the circle. There were mainly girls in the class, nine of them. There are only four guys. Me, of course; a rather short guy with childish features, bright blonde hair, and glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose; another guy who I can’t really describe because he’s occupied with the brown-haired girl sitting next to him; and the fairly attractive guy sitting on the other side of Ms. Zynasia who has spiky, brownish-blonde hair, quite a few freckles, dark-tinted sunglasses sitting on his head and wearing a pair of black and red pants with half a hundred zippers and a black shirt with a spray painted Elmo on the front. Yes, Elmo. The one from Sesame Street.

“Ok... First things first...” Ms. Zynasia said loudly to break the silence. “Let’s start off by introducing ourselves... For the umpteenth time, my name is Ms. Zynasia... Let’s go around the circle this way...” she said, pointing in my direction.

I clear my throat and quickly say my name before my nerves take over and hinder my speech.

One by one, names are shouted out. I look up at the brownish-blonde haired guy and watch him as his eyes travel around the circle, looking everyone over before they settle on me. He gives me a friendly smile before I look embarrassingly away.

The calling of names traveled around the circle before we came to the end of the line: the Elmo guy. “My name’s Bright...” he says a tad loudly. I look back up at him and once again, our eyes meet.

Ms. Zynasia began, looking over at Bright. “Can you tell us who you have airbrushed on your shirt?” she asks him.

He smiles, pointing to the bright red animal thingy on his shirt. “This is Elmo.” he says before he clears his throat. “Elmo don’t care if you think Bright is crazy. Elmo love being in high school! Sesame Street was getting boring.” he said in a voice extremely similar to Elmo’s. He started laughing, showing off his bright red braces. I couldn’t help but laugh as well, but I also couldn’t help but hear a few snickers going around.

“Come on, you guys. Be nice.” Ms. Zynasia said when she heard the snickering. “Everyone has something that sets them apart from everyone else.” she said, politely pointing back at Bright; who still had a case of the giggles, then over at me when she heard my chains jingling against the hardwood floor before finally pointing her well manicured fingers at a girl in the circle who had died her hair ocean blue.

I glanced over at Bright, who had finally regained his composure. His face was red from trying to hold back his laughter. I turn away and shut my eyes, picturing him in my mind. He is fairly attractive, but I know I won’t be able to have him. I already know that he’s attracted the attention of at least a handful of girls and he’s probably attracted to them as well. Somebody like him would never be interested in somebody like me.

It’s in the rule book. Rule number 18B: cute and ugly don’t make a good couple. Rule number 19B: cute girls like cute guys, cute guys like cute girls. Rule number 20B: never fall in love with a straight guy. I laugh as I think about that last rule, but my laughter soon stops as I realize that I broke that rule. I fell for Keith and he turned out to be straight, I think.

It’s just so complicated. Bright wouldn’t interested in me as much more than a friend. He probably won’t even like me. He’ll spend most of his time gathering girl’s phone numbers... Sometimes, reality just doesn’t seem all that real. I doubt I’ll have a chance with him, so I’m not even going to get myself worked up over him. I just don’t think it’s worth it.

I wasn’t meant to be with anybody... I wasn’t meant to be happy. I’m just here to get jealous of all the couples almost literally popping up right before my eyes and surrounding me, making me feel inferior and lonely...

I don’t bother to tell other people how I feel. They don’t want to hear me ramble on about my loneliness. They don’t care if Keith stopped seeing me, they didn’t want me with him in the first place. Nobody wants to hear me rant and rave about giving up on something you never had. The only thing about Bright that I know is his name and I already have to give up on him, simply because he’d never be interested in me.

“So what’s the major play we are going to do this year?” someone asked, breaking into my thoughts. I opened my watery eyes and looked up.

“Something very similar to Romeo and Juliet.” Ms. Z replied.

“What do you mean, similar?” I found myself asking.

“Good question.” she said, a smile forming on her face. “We all know that for some strange reason, Romeo and Juliet is a very common high school play. You’ve all seen it a hundred times. Thanks to my classmates in college, I’ve decided that we are going to change a few things to the actor’s liking.”

“How?” someone asked.

“I was getting to that.” Ms. Z said. “I’m going to pass out cards. On that card, put an idea up there that you’d like to see in the play. Based on how good the ideas are, we’ll alter the play with that idea.” She does her best to ignore the miscellaneous groans and complaints that followed as she reached for the stack of index cards in front of her. “I was expecting a much larger class than this... But I guess with all these changes, a smaller cast will be easier to manage.”

She slid the cards across the slightly dusty stage in the general direction of the students in the circle. Some of them didn’t reach their target, so she would slide another one across the stage.

“Don’t put your name on it... Just fold up the card and throw it in the center when you’re through. I hope everyone brought their own pencils or pens.”

A few “I didn’t”s went around and I heard her sigh. “I’ll be right back.” she said, getting up to walk off stage to her tiny desk at the back of the theater.

I was about to start writing when Bright called my name. I look up in his direction. “Thanks for laughing with me back then.” he whispered.

I shrug. “I think you did a really good impression.” I say, feeling my nerves beginning to constrict my vocabulary.

He smiles, tilting his head to one side as I got the chance to take a really good look at his face. His eyes were a bluish-hazel. I’ve never really looked into blue eyes before. It’s a different experience than the earthy, solid brownish-golds that I’m used to. Blues are different. The color of the sky and the ocean. It’s certainly a tad more breathtaking than brown eyes.

“Like she said earlier, everybody’s got something that sets them apart. I’m in the 11th grade and I still watch Sesame Street every now and then... So what!” he says, with a chuckle.

“11th grade?” I ask, shocked.

“It’s better than liking Barney...” he says in a nonchalant tone. I love the way he talks. I think he has a lover’s voice, like I have a storyteller’s voice. His voice is soft and somewhat seductive, yet still full of energy and childish innocence...

I smile.

“So, what are you going to write?” he asks, pulling a pen from behind his ear.

“I don’t know... How about you?” I ask.

Before he gets a chance to answer, Ms. Z returns with a handful of pencils, sitting down between us and in the middle of our conversation.

****************

“Have Juliet be a crime fighter, knocking out bad guys with fluid flips and kicks with the help of her two sisters.” Ms. Z read.

“Have Romeo teach Juliet how to do the Tango.” She looked around the circle, looking for any snickers and blushes that would aid her in figuring out who wrote what.

“The play is set in modern times, like its something that could happen today. Get rid of the odd vocabulary and speech patterns.”

“More kissing with at least one make-out scene.”

“Romeo and Juliet meet on a reality TV show and fall in love.”

“The two families, instead of being enemies, start off closely tied. The fact that Romeo falls in love with Juliet isn’t the problem, its the fact that Romeo is already betrothed to another that the two families start to bicker and argue.” That’s the one I wrote.

“We have a very good selection of ideas.” She says and glances at her watch. “Keep some of these ideas in mind and think them over tonight because tomorrow is when we start knitting them together. I’ll give you the last few minutes of the class free. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk.”

As soon as she stood up, the people that had been grouped in one large circle were now arranged into five polka-dots across the stage. Bright sat in front of me and I was able to get a good look at his shirt. It’s been ages since I’ve watched Sesame Street, but looking at Elmo’s smile brought back memories of singing about letters, shapes and numbers.

“This is my first year at this school...” he says. His “lover’s voice” had a relaxing effect, even though the rest of him had an exhilarating effect, at least on me, anyways. “Things are kind of... cheerful around here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I used to go to a private school, but I can’t go anymore because I’m ‘out of area’ due to a rearranging of the school districts out where I live. I say things are cheerful because we had to wear uniforms and everything was sort of robotically coordinated... Here, everybody wears what they want. It’s a breath of fresh air...” he says, he seems somewhat relieved.

“Glad to hear it.” I tell him. “I never could’ve lived with wearing uniforms.”

He laughs slightly, running his fingers through his hair before allowing them to rest on his sunglasses. “I feel like I can finally be myself.” he says. “I can express who it is I really am, now that I’m not restricted by the uniforms. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t wait to get out of that high school. I am so glad I can’t go.” he said.

We are both silent for a while and occupy myself by counting the several silver medallions hanging from the chains wrapped around my waist, like a belt. But instead of it going through the belt loops, like I used to wear it, I have it on the outside of my shirt, hanging fairly loosely around my waist. It’s kind of hard to explain.

I’m wearing my favorites today: the sword, the shield, the eagle, the angel, the dragonfly, and the Chinese dragon. When I finished, I looked up and noticed that Bright was sitting there, watching me. Our eyes met for a short moment before I turned away, refusing to let myself fall for him, if I haven’t already.

“It was nice meeting you today.” he said when he sensed my discomfort. “I’m in a way bigger school with a lot more people so I was expecting people to be kind of mean or downright rude, but so far, everything seems nice.”

“Why do you think people would be mean to you?” I ask, look up at him just enough to get a really good look at Elmo.

“I guess since my school was smaller and everybody sort of knew everybody, a new guy stuck out like a sore thumb...”

“We get a lot of new students every year, so I guess it’s not that big of a deal here.” I say.

Before he could say anything else, the bell rings and the sounds of heavy footfalls on the wooden stage echoes in the relatively tiny theater. “See you tomorrow.” he tells me. “Radley, is it?”

I nod as I stand up. “Yeah... See you tomorrow, Bright.” I say. I think I’m starting to like Elmo, now.

~~~~~~~~~~Paul~~~~~~~~

11: 51 AM

It’s lunch period. Although the cafeteria is loud and full of idle chatter, the table I’m sitting at is completely silent.

Radley doesn’t seem that hungry, he stares at his cheeseburger, which is still in its plastic wrapping. Radley’s skin is light shade of brown, its not too dark, but it isn’t light either. His dark brown eyes are half-closed, as if he’s in deep thought.

He’s wearing black and silver today. A black shirt with a skull on the front and flames on the sleeves. A an oversized charm bracelet around his waist and black pants with silver stripes up one side, decorated in chains that loop around the leg.

“Are you okay?” I ask, knowing better than to expect a truthful answer.

He doesn’t answer.

Jessie is sitting across from me. He’s taken off his hoodie and has it tied around his waist. He gives me his “why even bother” shrug before continuing to eat his fries.

“Radley?” I ask.

He looks up at me after a long moment.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He nods before turning away to slowly start on his cheeseburger.

I take a handful of fries and dip them t into a pile of ketchup on my plate. “How did the first half of your day go?” I ask no one in particular.

“Exciting... Yahoo...” Jessie mutters with faux enthusiasm. “My teacher said that we’re going to need dedication and commitment since the class last all year and not just one semester... I figured out that I don’t have the patience or enthusiasm to stay in that class for more than one semester so I’m changing classes... All the ones I wanted to take are already full or there are already a line of people trying to get in, so I don’t know what I’m going to end up taking.” he states it as if it were the most boring thing in the world.

“I think I’ve already decided that working on the school newspaper will be fun... Although we didn’t do anything today, I think I’m going to stick it through. This is only the fourth year they’ve attempted publishing a school newspaper... Don’t ask me why. She hasn’t told us yet.” I say, trying to sound cheerful and brighten up the atmosphere.

Radley sighs. “All I did was fall in love.” he whispers. I could barely hear him over the dissonance of hundreds of conversations going on at once.

Both me and Jessie look at him with utter shock. I look over at Jessie, who has a startled expression on his face. I just shrug. “You make it sound like its the easiest thing to do.” I say.

“It is... All you have to do is look at somebody.” Jessie replies sarcastically.

Radley looks up, his half-eaten cheeseburger still in his hands. Even though I liked it better when Radley was quiet and shy and somehow vulnerable, even this is starting to get a little unnerving. “Is falling in love a bad thing?” I ask.

Radley just nods.

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s a bad thing when who you like will never like you...” he says, his eyes never leaving his burger.

“You don’t know that.” Jessie says.

“Yes I do.” he replies sharply.

I decide it would be best to leave him alone and I go back to talking to Jessie. “You said you had something important to tell me. What is it?”

Jessie grows silent for a moment. His expression softening into what looked like fear and apprehension. “My mom told me this morning that my older sister is coming to visit.” he said.

Even Radley looks up at this statement.

“Your sister... I didn’t know you had a sister.” I say.

He shrugs. “I didn’t really think I had one either... I don’t even know who she is... It’s been so long since I’ve seen her... I think the only time we were in the same room was when I was first brought home by my real mom... Of course I don’t remember anything. I was only a week old then...” he said. There is a moment of silence. “I talk way too much.” he said, forcing a smile.

“Are you going to go see her?” Radley asks.

Jessie looks over at Radley, and for a moment, they just stare at each other. “Of course... Even my older brother is coming home to see her... He hasn’t seen her since he was in middle school... But the only thing I’m worried about is how my parents are going to react. I hope they can go through one weekend without yelling at each other.” Jessie shakes his head again, turning his gaze to the table. “Again, I talk too much.”

“I hope you have a good time...” I say to Jessie. He just nods before looking back at Radley. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he questions.

Radley just stares off into space for a moment. “I’ll be fine once I make myself eat this burger.” he says.

I lean across the table and motion for Jessie to move closer. “I’m getting worried about him.” I whisper.

“Is there anything we can do?” he asks.

“I can’t come up with anything yet... I’ll let you know as soon as I do, though.”

I look over at Radley, whose too busy pulling melted cheese off his burger with a fork to notice that we were talking about him. Yes, Radley. I’m getting worried about you.