BLACK SHEEP ✘ 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞 ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵍᵉⁿ

#49: ROCK 'N ROLL HIGH SCHOOL (3x18)

Life was okay, and that was enough.

Then came the Battle of the Bands, and I was Al Pacino in any mafia movie ever.

Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me right back in.

Monday morning, I noticed the posters everywhere, and knew without being told that somewhere in that school, Craig and Ashley were about to have a face off.

I just didn't know I'd have to deal with the first signs of that so soon. Like, in English that very day. I sat as far away from Craig as possible, like I did everyday, but that also meant having to sit near Ashley, who — while preferable to Craig — was still not exactly on my list of favorite people.

She raised her hand to share her poem for class the moment Ms. Kwan spoke. She said it was her new song, and I had to fight off the groan in my throat. It was...an interesting piece, to say the least.

"Black, twisted agony.

The fires of chaos burn on.

Run for her tombstone

before it's too late.

The blood runs cold in her veins."

I looked around to see everyone else looking about as distraught as I felt. Except for Craig, who laughed.

"Great, uh..." Ms. Kwan was at a loss of words, looking a mixture of troubled and uncomfortable. "Just great. Let's leave our discussion until we've heard more, shall we?"

And because I was petty, that's when I raised my hand. This was a common trick I employed lately now that I wasn't being shy about my dislike for several of my classmates. Kwan smiled and nodded.

"I, um...I've been reading a lot of survival thrillers lately. I apologize in advance."

"I'll never fault my students for reading recreationally, Audrey. Let's see what you brought to share with us."

I took a breath.

"What has she become
stumbling from
tragedy
to tragedy?

There is no room in the forest,
no space for peace.

That girl is wild
feral
restless forever.

Still sprinting from
every pitch black corner.

A wounded creature
scavenging
baring its teeth.

Hands failing to mold
a future from grief.

The beast in her bones
smells blood in the woods
and it must —
— it must —
run free.

There's no well worn path
or flares in the dark.
No words left to scream.

She's not yet ready
to do more than breathe.

She's not yet a person
who can sit with the quiet.

She's...

I'm not yet anything.
I am not yet me.

Perhaps peace
will one day
silence the doubt.

I'll stop dreaming
of the wilderness.

I'll see I'm
already out."

There were some sparse applause, and Ms. Kwan smiled like she was relieved to have a real discussion about poetry.