Real World Perspective

Dear Journal:

Today was the best day ever.

The bus ride was the most amazing bus ride I've ever taken. The rush of the wind. The constant vibration on the floors where me and my misfits like to sit in the back. The dull roar of voices laughing and singing. Thirteen different sets of headphones blaring – the Metallica was especially nice. Mark Sheridan was glowing with heat from his morning run, and I had to bite my lip not to reach out and touch him.

I doubt he would have appreciated it. We used to be so close...but then something rather pointed got in the way. But I'm not talking about the worst day ever, I'm talking about the best.

My class assignments were choice: chemistry and English, with some mandatory phys-ed and a lazy hour of history at the end. I walked down the halls like a rock star. I danced with my books in dance, ducking and weaving through the crowds like clockwork. The Anti-Queer Cheer Squad tried to prod and dig at me, my clothes, my lack of money. At least, I assume. I turned off their voices until I was gone – it was fucking stellar, and besides, those skank bitches wouldn't know class if bothered to pay attention in one. Mark's girlfriend tried to grab me.

I don't even know why, but I slapped her. It felt so very good to throw my hand righ into her bony, hollow cheek and make it rattle like a goddamn rattlesnake. It felt RIGHT. Of course, it didn't save me from a long lecture in the principal's office and a call to my foster folks, but someone on the other side of the school was playing a violin solo and it brought tears to my eyes that got me out of detention. I don't even remember what he said.

Chemistry blew my mind. Everyone else performed their little icebreaker experiments with flame and copper flakes – I saw it happening. The fire was dancing for me, burning hotter and brighter, showing every color in the world. That fire was free, burning away the stifling air in that room. It was hot. Alive. Perfect. No one really noticed that I didn't pick up my copper flakes. No one noticed that the gas was off. It was my flame to dance with, and we flirted and whispered to each other until the bell called me away. I kept the spark in my water bottle – it's on my desk now, a beautiful vermilion.

Mark Sheridan tried to beat me up during PE. I knew it was coming, but for the life of me, I couldn't care. I ignored the crowd, tuned out their voices and hateful fucking jeers – especially his bitch girlfriend. He ducked in at me and it was like he was pushing against air. I wasn't going to let anyone hurt me anymore.

I ducked him three times, three punches that would have cracked my head open, and it was like they were nothing. I just watched his eyes – his heart wasn't in it. His hits were weak, restrained. The force was hesitating. That made me so happy I wanted to hug him. Mark was still in there. He still cared.

So I said, “Screw this.” I managed to catch his hand. I hugged him anyway. He thrashed at first, but then he hugged me back. I said I was sorry.

He said he wasn't scared of me anymore. I almost started to cry, but I caught the sight of the brick. That bitch was yelling hurtful words I hadn't even registered, but now she'd crossed the line. Where the fuck did she even get a brick? I wasn't even thinking when I just sort of...PULLED at the edge of it, flipped it around. Wings of light that only I could see enfolded Mark and I, facets like crystal shards showing every different face and color of us both. The brick hooked around us and caught the bitch in the nose.

She looks like Owen Wilson now. I'm being expelled.

But it's all right. I met some people – there's a school they want me to go to downtown. And the best part?

Mark promised to call me. Best friends reunited. Just friends, but...

Anything can happen. I signed my name on the burning flames of my empty, hollow past.

If I can make a fire dance, why couldn't I make him love me one day?

Signed,

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(Name ripped from the page. Following pages blank.)