An entry in the WDC Competition “So Bad It’s Good”… It’s bad, that’s for sure.
He sat at the beige desk, carved with “woz here” messages of years gone by, next to her in Algebra, and a row back and a little to the left in History. His Story. She wondered what his magnificent story might be. He was so moody and mysterious. She hated that with a luke-warm passion except that it captured her erratic pubescent attention and she could think of little else.
Resting acne-ridden head in sweaty palm, elbow on desk, she gazed at his pearlescent aquamarine eyes – these obviously being of the abalone pearl variety, since eyes the color of standard pearls would be freakish. Only, she couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, because he was talking to the girl to his glorious left. Jorja, the flawless cow.
She was failing History dreadfully.
Ginger, her orange-colored domestic short-haired cat greeted her on her arrival home at the end of the tediously ponderous school-day. He was hungry, obviously. So, she dished up his pungent slop and went to her room.
She put her iPod on shuffle and lay across her malleable bed and began to doodle. She doodled pictures of Him, except that they didn’t look much like Him, unless he was stick thin with no elbows or knees, and a round head. But she had the hair about right, with its undulating sweep across the forehead. Sometimes it was a dejected existence being a teenager with a crush. Her parents didn’t understand. “Plenty more fish” they assured her. But she didn’t want other fish. Other fish just didn’t glisten quite like him. No, the other boys at school were more like fish that had been kept out of water too long, and their abhorrent aroma was as good, also. No, she wanted Him, glorious, handsome Him.
“Dear Diary,” she wrote. “He didn’t notice me, again, today. Or maybe he did but it happened to be when I was actually paying attention in class – I managed to answer a question in Algebra today I got it wrong but at least I tried.”
The following morning, she got up for school at 7am, as was her usual routine and she had her bowl of cereal, as was also very usual for her to do. Then she walked to the bus stop to wait for her bus. The sun-coloured vehicle pulled up, but so did a car-load of her friends. She waved to her friends and climbed onto the bus because if she had gotten into the car it would have been overloaded and she was a good girl who didn’t break the law or do anything to cause her hard-working parents to worry.
She spent another couple of prolonged periods vaguely listening to the droning of her teachers. Third period was Algebra.
“Hi, Jackson,” she smiled a friendly smile as she sat in her usual seat, and he in his.
“Ella,” she reminded him.
“Uh, yeah.” He sat down and shared a funny joke with the girl on his right. Chelsea, precious diva.
At the end of class, she brushed against his muscular bicep in the bustling hallway and nearly swooned with obsessive delight.
She plucked all the courage she could gather into a down-filled pillow.
“Are you going to The Club, tonight?”
“What?” he looked around with those gleaming, dim-witted eyes. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
She was almightily overjoyed at his response. Tonight it would happen. Tonight, they would be at the same place, at the same time. Kind of like every day at school. Only this time it would be different. And the same. But different.
Word count: 597