This Girl Named Rose

one.

Today I stared at her. Until my eyes could no longer absorb the existing beauty in front of me. At one point she even stared back at me. It was like a fire was kindling in my body, and her looking directly at me ignited flames within me. I felt my face heat up and I knew my face turned red after she gave me a small smirk.

'She smiled at me..' I thought to myself. 'Rose smiled at me..'

This was one of the greatest moments of my life. A girl, who wasnt my own mother, actually smiled at me. Most girls dont even bother looking my way because of my unruly, long curly hair. Or the fact that I have tattoos plastered all over my body.

My fashion sense is nothing like the guys at my school. They all prefer to look the same. With their $100 shirts and their $300 khakis pants, whilst I prefer to 'Thrift Shop'. I find it all too ridiculous since they always say 'every girl is the same'. Bullshit. All the guys at my school do the exact same thing at the exact same time. Burping, laughing, smiling. Shit. They all probably fuck at the same time too, but thats another story.

But I, Charlie Vega, should and will not ever succumb to being like them. I am my own person and I have the right to make my own decisions. Not even social media can change me. Its taken me years to build up my own style and confidence and I will not start changing now.

"Charlie!" my English teacher, Ms.Gayle, yelled at me. "Do you mind telling us what you have written down in your annotations?"

"Yes, I do mind." I retorted, the class broke out in giggles. Ms.Gayle narrowed her eyes and pushed her glasses up on to her face.

"Well then, what a shame. Class! This is the prime example of someone who will not be successful." she pointed at me, my blood was boiling. "If you just so suddenly do not wish to do what is needed, then you will end up like Mr.Vega here. Lifeless and defeated. Your mother is probably rolling in her grave." she smirked.

"DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The class, including Rose, stared at me with fright. I looked at the startled old woman, picked up my books and proceeded out of the classroom.

***

That woman had no right to talk about my mother, especially in such a public place. My body was fuming and still is. The fact that she thinks she knows who my mother is or was is just an absurd thought. I cooled down once I returned to my locker. My locker was almost my haven at this school. A bottle of whiskey hid behind crumpled papers, so I decided to take it out and began drinking it.

   I sat on the floor in front of my locker, with the whiskey in my hand. The burning pain slid down my throat with each sip. My mind tried to ease itself, but it wouldn't. All that came back to me was the day my mom died and how devastated I was.

"Hey!" a teacher entered the hallway. His facial expression was angry and so was his tone.

"Hello there." I said with a smile on my face, lifting the bottle of whiskey up towards the teacher.

"You should not be out of class right now! You shouldn't even be drinking! What in the world are you doing? Do you want to be expelled?" He rambled. I had no care for anything he was saying.

"Ahh, you teachers in this school are so uptight." I laughed. He did not find anything I said amusing. "Have a drink, relax bro."

"Get up or else I will be calling school security."

"Oooh, I'm so scared." At this point I was dying of laughter. Who was he to tell me what to do with my own body, in front of my locker?

"You better be!" He yelled and lifted me up like a rag doll to my feet. His hand was still grasping onto my black shirt. But all I could do was laugh. Not one part of me was angry because if he attacked me, he would lose his job and 14 years of hard work would be down the drain. Finally, after carefully thinking, the 40 year old body builder put me down. I was still laughing in his face.