Feb 2013
7:43 AM - Period 1 - Symphonic Band
I hid behind a bank of instrument nooks, each beaten, worn and termite chewed to ruddy brown and grey colors. Doors of old supply cabinets with peeling, plastic, paper coverings squeaked in a draft that no one could find. I kept my backpack against the trumpet section, just around the corner from the door, where no one could see me. Class started eight minutes ago, but Mr. Rants was gone as usual, and our student substitute Nick, was not not here yet. I unhooked the metal clasp on my Fossil backpack, searching around in the front backpack for my gum. I popped it in my mouth and bit down. Crack! Stale.
In a side pocket I found a tube of mascara I had shoved haphazardly in due to my rush from the house this morning. I untwisted the cap and wiped the tip of the brush on the rim, looking for a reflective surface. In the cubby directly in front of me was a trumpet case and a harmon mute. A shiny harmon mute. I stared at my warped reflection in the surface and laughed at myself. I thought "Only a real musician would do her makeup using a trumpet mute." I stabbed myself in the face leaving a long streak of gooey black on my nose. "******" I whispered and licked my finger to wipe it off. I laughed again, my hand still at my face. "This is one of those significant moments" I realized. "I'm not sure why though."
2. 4:21 PM - After School - Way Home From Orthodontist Appointment
She stroked my hand, which was flat against my leg. "Sorry honey, just because I am a little disappointed because of what happened doesn't mean that." I was silent, staring straight through the windsheild. She sighed and pulled her hand away. I fiddled with a rubberband, my legs crossed beneath me in the passenger seat. I was hurt; I thought we were done talking about this. Hadn't she forgiven me? Like it mattered. Telling her was the right thing and there's nothing more I can do. Light Gives Heat by Jars of Clay came on the radio and as I looked through the rain, repeatedly punching my window, I felt something well up inside me. The feeling that actors must get in dramatic movie scenes. Closing my eyes, I imagined I was in a movie. That it was about me, that I would win whatever I wanted in the end and that I was clever and beautiful. "This is a significant moment" I thought. "But not like this morning, not at all."
I looked over at her, she was expresionless, tapping her finger gently on the steering wheel.
"Maybe I'll post something about this on HelloPoetry later." I thought.
I hid behind a bank of instrument nooks, each beaten, worn and termite chewed to ruddy brown and grey colors. Doors of old supply cabinets with peeling, plastic, paper coverings squeaked in a draft that no one could find. I kept my backpack against the trumpet section, just around the corner from the door, where no one could see me. Class started eight minutes ago, but Mr. Rants was gone as usual, and our student substitute Nick, was not not here yet. I unhooked the metal clasp on my Fossil backpack, searching around in the front backpack for my gum. I popped it in my mouth and bit down. Crack! Stale.
In a side pocket I found a tube of mascara I had shoved haphazardly in due to my rush from the house this morning. I untwisted the cap and wiped the tip of the brush on the rim, looking for a reflective surface. In the cubby directly in front of me was a trumpet case and a harmon mute. A shiny harmon mute. I stared at my warped reflection in the surface and laughed at myself. I thought "Only a real musician would do her makeup using a trumpet mute." I stabbed myself in the face leaving a long streak of gooey black on my nose. "******" I whispered and licked my finger to wipe it off. I laughed again, my hand still at my face. "This is one of those significant moments" I realized. "I'm not sure why though."
2. 4:21 PM - After School - Way Home From Orthodontist Appointment
She stroked my hand, which was flat against my leg. "Sorry honey, just because I am a little disappointed because of what happened doesn't mean that." I was silent, staring straight through the windsheild. She sighed and pulled her hand away. I fiddled with a rubberband, my legs crossed beneath me in the passenger seat. I was hurt; I thought we were done talking about this. Hadn't she forgiven me? Like it mattered. Telling her was the right thing and there's nothing more I can do. Light Gives Heat by Jars of Clay came on the radio and as I looked through the rain, repeatedly punching my window, I felt something well up inside me. The feeling that actors must get in dramatic movie scenes. Closing my eyes, I imagined I was in a movie. That it was about me, that I would win whatever I wanted in the end and that I was clever and beautiful. "This is a significant moment" I thought. "But not like this morning, not at all."
I looked over at her, she was expresionless, tapping her finger gently on the steering wheel.
"Maybe I'll post something about this on HelloPoetry later." I thought.
