These Classrooms Talk

XXIII

"What are you doing here?" I ask. It's the first thing I can think of.
"This is where I work, last I checked."
I want to slap him. Sure I've been worried, but now, seeing him, I want to slap the living shits out of him.
"You've got a lot of nerve," I say. He goes to speak, but I continue, "A lot of FUCKING nerve."
"Kendall, listen," Mr Smith says.
"Don't try to justify it!" I shout.
"I'm not trying to justify anything," he smiles at me, fondly, "I haven't seen you in ages. You are even more beautiful than I remember. Fuck."
I'm too speechless to say anything - to even think! Then I gather myself.
"So let me get this straight," I say, "you lead me on, tell me to wait till Sunday, then flip when I offer you my flower and - what? Go into hiding?"
"I didn't go into hiding." He says, calmly.
"Oh, sure," I say, the oxygen in my lungs turning into sarcasm.
"I didn't, I swear," he says.
"Really?" I shout, "well then why did you leave during our date?"
"I left because I didn't expect you to...y'know," he says, "but I didn't leave, you left!"
"No I didn't!" I shout.
"I came out of the bathroom after gathering my thoughts, and you were gone!"
"Wait-"
"You left! Not me!"
"But then I didn't see you for ages, explain that!" I say.
"My mother had a heart attack that night," he says, "not that you'd know."
"What? Smith, I'm so sorry-"
"Dismissed." He says.
"No really, I-"
"I said dismissed."

~

I can't stop. I run out of school, across the road, down the street, past the mall.
I keep running. My lungs burn and my legs ache but I don't slow.
I run. I run so fast everything blurs around me. All the factors of life that seemed so important just crumble into nothingness as I sprint.
I get to the edge of town. The woods.
Where nature meets the sea.
The water's gushes blends with the tree's whispers.
I stop and breathe in the salty air.
I walk over a dune to the shore.
I nestle my feet in the pristine white sand and sit.
I watch the horizon. What's happening out there? Places I've never been lay waiting for an adventurous and curious mind. Maybe that's what I need- to travel.
I've got that cruise. A final escape.
I know, now, how to rid myself of all the angst and anger.
I watch the sun ever so slowly lower, then finally set over the ocean. The moon rises behind me but I don't focus on that. I don't focus on the dark when the light is so good. So kind.
I've never been a beachy girl. I've always felt closer to books and food, cooking, that is.
Now, laying here, I feel an emotional connection to the waves. Every droplet of water that flows within me flows like the waves of an ocean.
I feel as if I am a cold, unforgiving tundra of isolation that somehow manages to host thousands, no- millions- of sea life.
I think about everything. The cool breeze feels as if it'll freeze my bare legs, as I have but mere shorts for warmth, and a crop top. Dressing slutty is the fad right now.
I think about the news I've read recently.
More and more actors are admitting to owning personal prostitutes. Dylan O'brien, Cody Christian, Zac Efron,  Joe Jonas even Colton Haynes has a teen boytoy on the side. Everytime the media grows more and more accepting. No punishment despite the fact that men - some in their late thirties/early forties - are sleeping with underage minors.
The courts are more cooperative now.
If people found out about Thurston and me - or Furor and me - or Smith and me - would they really care? Or would I be the water that now flows under the bridge.
"Kendall?" I hear. It's a male, sweet voice. I can almost point my finger on it. "Kendall, is that you?"
I turn around but can only distinctly make out a figure in the gloom of the moonlight.
"What are you doing here?" He asks.
I don't want to be rude and ask who he is, although I can tell he's about my age. Harry? No. Harry's my brother, I'd know instantly.
"I could ask you the same." I go for.
"Well, always the reverser, aren't you?"
I get it.
"Sean." I say.
"Who else?" He asks. "Now, what are you doing here?"
He nestles his feet in next to me and sits down. I can see he has a blanket and a thermos. I can smell the hot chocolate.
"I needed an escape," I say, trying not to let too much slip.
"Yeah," he says, "I get it."
"Really?" I question.
"Yeah, I couldn't stand to be at home any longer." He says. "Cold?"
He offers me the blanket. Now he's closer I can see him better. He's smiling, in a kind, yet sad way. I smile back and politely maneuver under the blanket next to him, nodding my thanks.
The blanket is such a welcome gift, as I now realise how cold my arms are. I pull the blanket up around my shoulders.
"Did you and your brothers have a fight?" I pry, before realising how rude it is, "you don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"No, no, it's fine," he says. This is the calmest conversation I've ever had, "my Dad won't get over the fact that Briar is gay and my Mom is questioning my sexuality, too. She tries to be subtle. She left some gay porno magazines on the counter, claiming the magazine company got her subscription wrong. But I know she was testing me."
I look at him. He points the thermos towards me. I take it and have a sip.
"But that's not all she's hiding," Sean continues, "I heard it, last night. The thumping, banging and strangled cries coming from my parents room. My dad was let go from his FiFo and my moms law firm isn't bringing in any real income. Now he's taking it out on her. She tries to hide the bruises but I see them. I see her."
I look at Sean. This horny, sick, devilish son of a mother fucker has  layers. I feel like Donkey, and I'm just slowly watching Shrek peek them away.
Sean has a lot going on and I feel like my problems are a bit smaller in comparison. So I do something that'll probably turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.
"Yeah, well. I'm having sex with teachers."