Somewhat Damaged | Tim Riggins

One

ONE | DAMAGE DONE

An uncomfortable dampness sits on my body, a thin layer of slick sweat collecting on the back of my T-shirt. Lemon-scented Lysol burns my nose, buzzing florescent lights pierce my eardrums. My heart flutters and twitches, aching inside my rib cage. On the other side of the bathroom stall door, Drew Wagner's bubbly voice prickles the humid air.

"I can't go to Smash's party tonight, remember? My parents grounded me!"

An amused giggle erupts from Carla Quinn, "Sucks for you, I heard lover boy Jason was going to be there!"

Drew groans, "You're kidding right? I'm gonna die."

Carla laughs.

I roll my eyes, thinking of the time freshmen year when Drew and Jason made out behind the bleachers after a football game. Drew came giddily running back to us screeching about how she met the love of her life. Turns out, Jason had been dared by his teammates to make out with her for ten bucks.

Alas, Drew's still chasing after a guy who could give a shit.

A heaviness resides in my heart, thinking of the memory. It's as if a heavy, granite stone was dropped into my chest cavity - carrying nostalgia and a past I would give anything to have back. I would be lying if I said I didn't care about Drew and Carla and everyone else I used to hang out with. They were annoying, but fun.

The bathroom door opens, the sounds of the school hallways crescendoing in, countless conversations happening all at once. Promises, arguments and jokes all intertwined with each other. The door closes, muffling all of the sounds again.

I stand from the toilet seat and push open the stall door, the hinges squealing in protest. I walk up to the sink and turn on the faucet, catching my face in the dirty mirror. Sullen eyes, furrowed brows and a deep frown that never ceases to exist. The running water hums in my brain, blocking out the rest of the world. I lean closer, noticing a red zit forming on my nose.

Gross.

The bathroom door opens and I jump back from the mirror, startled, and quickly turn off the faucet.

I turn on my heel and grab the door before it fully closes, not bothering to see who entered. Those girls probably wouldn't want to talk to me anyways.

The bell rings, signaling the beginning of whatever period was starting. I skipped my last class, European History, and will probably skip this one. I didn't mean to spend so long in the bathroom, but I had to crap and unfortunately Drew and Carla came in before I could exit stage left.

The halls are quiet and empty now, only a few stragglers left rushing to get to their classes on time. Mostly underclassman, desperate to impress their teachers with their responsibility and punctuality. I don't care to anymore, there aren't any expectations for me anyways. You can't disappoint anyone when their expectations are already at rock bottom.

I spot the school's back door, a light at the end of a dark tunnel. Okay, that's dramatic. But there's no point in me staying when I'd only disrupt a class, or worse, get caught skipping and be sent to Mrs. Taylor's office - again.

Pushing open the door, a warm breeze rushes into me. The sunlight feels like freedom on my face, washing away the humidity and anxiety of the dank bathroom. The school is nothing more than a trap compared to the outside, the pain of my past and anxieties of the future are left behind in there. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise I hate Dillon so much, there's no reason for me to stay after graduation.

Football players run around the field in the school's stadium, I'm assuming their practicing for the game tonight. A game that I won't be going to, because nobody cares to invite me anymore. Maybe Tyra, as she's the only person who bothers to talk to me, but I'm not sure I'd want to go anyway. Spending a couple hours surrounded by people who make it obvious they hate me?

No thanks.

I unlock my car, a scratched up and dented Pontiac Grand Am that's due for a trip to the junkyard. But it was my brother Corey's and he'd kill me if I traded it in for something better. The AC is busted, one of the taillights is cracked and the radio only plays KOKE-FM. Corey swears it's good luck, but I'm convinced that listening to non-stop shitty country has screwed up his brain.

I peel out of the parking lot, glancing in my rearview mirror at the football players. My heart twinges. I won't admit to anyone how much I miss that. Being apart of team, surrounded by people who only want to support you.

If only I hadn't fucked it all up.