The Fragile Ordinary(50)







THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG





14

You’re kind but the mask you wear makes you mean,

You’re sweet but your silence can be so cruel.

You’re all that, more, and everything in between

You’re the king but I won’t live under your rule.





—CC


“I think it’s bullshit this no talkin’ tae ye at school,” Stevie had said in the first week of November, and that was before I gave him the gift of winter accessories.

I’d quietly agreed but Tobias’s response was, “You really want her on Jimmy’s radar?”

They’d shared this grim look that made me sigh in exasperation. “Why are you friends with him if he’s so bad?”

“He’s friends with him.” Tobias pointed to Stevie.

Stevie just shrugged. “He’s been ma mate forever. And the only reason he’s a wee shit sometimes is because of his big brother. Treats him like crap. Winds Jimmy up and sets him off on someone else.”

“That’s what siblings do though, right? That’s not really an excuse for the terrible things Jimmy says and does to people,” I said.

“I’m no’ talking about normal sibling fighting, Com.” Stevie gave me a sad look. “His brother...well, it’s no’ ma business to say anything but believe me, things are crap at home for him.”

And that had been the end of the discussion, because I suppose I didn’t know anything about Jimmy. But still, I didn’t think it was an excuse for bullying people.

By the middle of November I was growing increasingly tired of being ignored by the two boys who were my friends. It was bad enough that Tobias and I rarely saw each other alone anymore, but he and Stevie had started ditching me for the wondrous conversations of Jimmy and Co. If they were so awful, why had I been ditched for them? Despite my hurt, I made the decision to focus my energy elsewhere. So far I still had not taken Mr. Stone’s advice to get up on the stage at Pan, or take any steps toward pushing myself outside my comfort zone regarding my writing. And Mr. Stone was right. If I wanted to impress colleges, then I needed to become proactive. For weeks, I’d been working myself up to do just that. I still wasn’t quite brave enough to recite my poetry at Pan, but finally, I found the courage to share my poetry with someone other than Tobias.

Palms sweaty throughout my English lesson as I prepared to make myself vulnerable, I ignored Tobias’s quizzical stare as I sat, tense, beside him.

The bell finally rang for the end of class and as everyone packed their books away my friend turned to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just need to talk to Mr. Stone. I’ll catch you later.”

“What’s going on?”

“I just need to talk to him about classwork.”

“You’re acting weird.”

I wasn’t the only one. But I wasn’t going to go there. Today wasn’t about Tobias ignoring me at school. Today was about my future. “I’ll see you later.”

Not looking particularly happy about being dismissed, Tobias reluctantly left.

“You coming?” Steph and Vicki stopped by my table as I got out of the seat, waiting for the class to empty.

“I’ll catch up with you. I need to talk to Mr. Stone.”

The girls didn’t question it, and soon everyone had emptied out of the classroom. Mr. Stone looked up from packing his overstuffed satchel with more papers. “Comet? Everything okay?”

There was no turning back now.

My mouth was so dry that I felt my teeth stick to my upper lip as I tried to open it to speak. Wetting my lips, fingers trembling, I dug into my bag and pulled out the folder I’d brought with me to school. “I...uh...well I know you’re busy but um...well, I brought some of my poetry. I think it’s poetry anyway. I mean it is poetry. Uh...” Oh God, floor open up and swallow me whole! “Well...I was just wondering if you... You told me to think about doing something with it and I just wondered if you’d...” I held the folder out toward him, feeling like I might burst into tears any second now.

As if sensing my panic, Mr. Stone quickly took the folder from me. “I’d be happy to read your work, Comet.”

I gave him a brittle smile. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

He smiled reassuringly. “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you for allowing me to. I’m truly honored.”

Now I wanted to cry, because he was being so kind. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.” I exhaled, willing the nervous fluttering in my stomach to quit it. “And I, uh...well I was thinking...if you think my work is good enough maybe I could do something more with it. I’ve looked into what other schools in Central Scotland are doing and a few have founded their own lit mags. I thought maybe we could create a school literary magazine, too. Online. Maybe even in print, too, if the school budget would allow it. And...I thought perhaps I could take a stab at being the editor.” It was bold. I knew that. One, asking for a lit magazine and two, suggesting I run it. But if I wanted the University of Virginia to take me seriously, I needed to be bold. “If you think my writing is good enough I could maybe even use the magazine to showcase my poetry.”

Mr. Stone stared at me with wide eyes. Almost like he’d never seen me before. His silence caused the blood beneath my cheeks to burn.

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