❝Tomorrow the birds will sing!❞
– The Tramp
s e p t e m b e r
Carter Lynon is pathetic.
Can’t anyone see what this guy’s doing? His boys are holding Pierce Sanders back while he beats the crap out of him. And from where I’m standing I see that Pierce’s nose is oozing with blood. It has to be broken if it’s bleeding like that. I can’t watch this, I can’t just let it continue on without doing anything. I observe the people around me; some have their phones out while others are looking on as if this is the best fight they’ve ever witnessed in their entire lives.
Not for me.
A good fight is a fair fight and this isn’t a fair fight.
I hold my breath and clutch my binder and textbook closer to my chest. I should go and get a teacher but I know by the time I do and come back, everybody will be gone and any evidence of the fight will be gone, too. But I have to try.
I come back with Ms Pickler the chem teacher.
I was right about everyone being gone by the time I returned. But Pierce is left laying on the floor with a bloody nose. And it hurts to look at him.
:: :: ::
I wonder how Pierce feels, getting beat up in front of the whole school like that. It has to be some sort of a blow to his ego.
He has every hour with me, though I never talked to him and I saw him as another arrogant jock. I feel for him. I really do.
Carter Lynon is just another big bully. And having his friends hold Pierce back like that to where he couldn’t fight back was mean and cruel.
Carter Lynon is a friend of Simon Moore (the king of the assholes at Warner). And he’s done the same thing. Except the disadvantage the guy had (that Moore had beat up), was the fact that Moore took boxing. And Moore beat the guy up for no good reason—the guy had accidentally squirted some ketchup on him and he thought to show him a lesson by getting angry and beating the shit out of him, too.
I sigh and shake my head.
It’s Thursday and Mom brought home burgers for dinner. I’m sitting on the floor at the coffee table in the living room while I wait for Davis to finish fixing our plates (it’s her turn to fix our plates. I did it yesterday). I should be happy that we’re having burgers from my favorite burger place tonight, but I can’t. Not without that image of Pierce getting beat up by Carter playing over and over again in my head.
I hope me thinking about it doesn’t put a bad taste in my mouth. I’d hate to think that Carter is the cause to why I can’t enjoy one of my favorite meals tonight.
“Here,” says Davis, putting my plate of burger and fries in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Davis sees that and for the millionth time today she asks me what’s wrong. Even though she already knows the answer.
“Pierce Sanders getting beat up,” I tell her before taking a bite out of my burger.
She sighs in aggravation. She’s mad about the whole thing, too. She dislikes Carter Lynon just as much as me and the fact that he had the vivacity to jump Pierce is beyond her and I. But why am I surprised, when I had always seen Carter as this major asshole?
“I hate that I was still taking my pretest for English,” Davis says, taking a bite out of her onion ring.
I stop eating and shake my head. “You shouldn’t,” I frown. “Like I told you, I was the only one who went to get a teacher while everyone watched. It was horrible.”
Davis nods. “Still,” she says giving me a sad look. “It’s just…”
“Not fair.” I finish for her.
High school isn’t fair.
:: :: ::
Pierce was never cruel. Arrogant yes, but never rude. More of a follower than anything, some what of a leader if you count him being the co-captain of the basketball team.
I wonder how life would look if it were told as a silent film. People watching you and your exaggerated face expressions and body movements. You saying things but no one hearing you. The instrumental music playing in the background on queue like it knows how you’re going to feel right before you even start to cry.
It’s only being interpreted by the person who is controlling your life and who cares enough to watch.
But now most of them our lost.
I hope Pierce doesn’t feel that way.
Hopefully he has a nice and supportive family that’ll tell him what he needs to hear in order to get back whatever confidence he’d lost today from getting beat up by Carter. However, some part of me is telling me he doesn’t.
That night I go to sleep with the image of Pierce’s bloody nose on my mind.
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Copyright © 2016 by Meia and Yuna Reid