When You're In Love with a girl

Chapter 16, An Incident in the Lunchroom

AN INCIDENT IN THE LUNCHROOM

Today will be a special day, I think as I pick out my outfit for the day. Ahh, I'm scared, I really am. What is this group saxophone thing? In band, usually I can rely on Arya, but when you play in a smaller group, usually everyone has different parts so you can only rely on yourself.

I would not rely on myself. I would not want to be friends with myself.

"HURRY UP," bellows Sam, sounding angry. I put my hairbrush down and run downstairs. I don't usually spend so much time on my appearance, but I feel kind of worried about being chosen for a music groupp... I feel like I have to prove myself. I guess I can kind of understand why Mom worries about her appearance so much. When I wear something nice and look good, I feel more confident.

Definitely need that confidence, I think to myself as I let myself stand still and get berated by Mom's verbal blows. She has taken away all my books, my library card, and my internet searching privileges, so I've decided to take the opportunity to do a dopamine detox and only sleep, walk around, write in my journal, and practice my saxophone. And also sulk and feel angry at my parents.

After Mom is finished with her "You better not!" and "if you dare!"s, I run out with Sam.

"No running ahead of me," Sam says. "You're supposed to stay by my side." Sam has a strange expression on his face. "You know, Alie..."

"What?" I say harshly, with venom laced in my voice. Everything Sam says is either a lie or garbage.

Sam looks away and then looks at me sideways and jerks his chin. "I'm sorry for telling about your boyfriend to Mom."

I don't believe it. What does he want from me? He never gives apologies, and most certainly not to me. He thinks it is good enough to just laugh things off, and that in itself is an apology. "Sure you are."

"I am. And you know, in the sunlight, you look almost cute."

I facepalm. "Thank you, Sam," I say and try not to burst out laughing. Sam, Sam, Sam, he really makes my day! Yesterday he made my day yucky by telling Mom on me and today he tries to compliment me and ends up insulting me. Not to mention that it seems a bit wrong for a boy to think his sister cute.

During lunch, sitting across from Tom, I have a sudden idea. I could paint a painting of Tom, trying to express all my emotions. Maybe. While I am definitely not an amateur, I am no professional either. Maybe it would be a bit weird. Well, it would help break my artists block, and give me something to do while I am at home without books to read. If it turns out bad, I just won't give it to Tom.

Each time I stare at my empty bookshelf, it incite feelings of sadness in me.

Our relationship seems better, but still I can feel the discomfort between us. I don't think we'll ever go back to being as close friends as we were during those first two months of school. Ah, the good days. I guess Tom couldn't control his romantic feelings, but did he have to act on them?

I force myself to stop thinking so much and just be present in the moment and enjoy spending time with Tom. After Tom puts his bags down, the line is so long that he ends up having to wait fifteen minutes before he can get his lunch.

As I'm reaching in my backpack for my waterbottle, I hear a thud as something hits the ground.

I look up immediately and see Tom, sitting on the ground and his chair, in the hands of Justin Peralvic, son of Tim Peralvic, (the famous CEO of a popular fast-food restaurant).

"Are you alright?" I ask. Whenever someone is hurt, I don't know how to balance being detached and overly concerned.

"Yeah...." says Tom, his face blushing red. "I'm okay; I'm fine."

Justin puts the chair back while Tom looks around wildly for his chair.

"Oh, it was..." I start saying.

He grabs the back of his chair as he sits down and I watch as he seethes with anger. "Justin thinks he's so great because all the messes he gets himself into, his daddy can just buy him out of. I hate rich kids!" he exploded.

And all around us are the shallow, rich, and stupid kids that he is talking about. "It does make you depressed, after a while," I say. I feel a bit hypocritical... "My family is wealthy, also," I admit. "Even though we live in a lousy apartment."

"I know that, but you don't behave like a d*," says Tom. "Plus you don't live in a fancy mansion like him."

"Do you get bullied a lot?" I ask.

"What do you think! Of course. You've known me for so long already! Do you know Eduard? That guy is so aggravating! I could do everything they do; I'm good at sports and academics... the only trouble is that I haven't got friends or money!"

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-Tara