6 Everyone Has Little Secrets

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VI.  Everyone Has Little Secrets

Angelo Tallerico

   In the week after my utter degradation to Madison I stayed far away from her as I could. We were put as lab partners in our biology class but I ignored her completely. She tried to speak to me in the hallways but I snubbed her. I could see the hurt in her eyes and I knew I hurt her but it was better this way. She and I were just too different for our own good. That realization effectively guaranteed that I was utterly and completely miserable.

The rumors and giggles died down but they didn't exactly go away. People were just too scared of a crazy dude coming after them with a baseball bat. Wise of them. Although I should point out I nearly lost my cool when some ugly burly football player placed a pack of condoms on my table in Math and whispered, "Here you go, stud. Save some for the next client."

On Thursday, the day before homecoming, I decided to trek all the way to Italian Kitchen as some senior girls had taken to harassing me on the route which I drove my bike, where they shouted vulgar propositions like,

 

".... Hey Stud! How much for an orgasm..."

Or

 

"..... Do you take American Express?"

Yeah, it was that bad.

   I had reached the bus stop when a hot pink Porsche pulled up beside me.

Who in the world drives a pink Porsche, I thought incredulously. The window rolled down and a pretty Hispanic girl grinned at me.

"Taralynn?" I asked in surprise.

Taralynn Rivers was Madison's best friend and trusted side kick. I had interacted with her freshman year before that socio- stratification barrier went up.

"Hi!" she said with a cheery laugh, "hop in."

"Why?" I wondered aloud, thinking of a reason why she was suddenly talking to me of all people.

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