Anguis ➳ FP Jones

IX - AFRICA

the moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation

»It's getting late.» The words flew out of my mouth after an awkward silence between the two of us had been created. Despite the fact that the rain was still pouring down, and the thunder was nearer than anyone wanted, going home was an option even if it meant breaking one of the few rules I had with my family: never go out in thunder and lightning.

FP shrugged, showing a facial expression that revealed he had been thinking the same thing. But neither of us wanted me to leave - at least I imagined that's what he felt. But we knew that this situation wasn't common amongst ordinary friends. It was something more intense that'd light up newly found feelings.
My hands found the back of my neck, my fingers slowly opening the necklace, hereafter holding it in my hands and giving it to him. I then got up from the couch towards the door and reached for my raincoat and umbrella. The sound of him getting up from the couch could be heard as I was putting on the wet raincoat.

»Listen,« I began and turned around only to almost smack my head into FP's chest. I looked up at him, into his eyes, and saw nothing but amusement in them. I moved away just a little bit before continuing. »Thank you for last night. It was very nice of you.«

»It was nothing,« he responded and moved slightly past me in order to open the door for me. What a gentleman. I walked outside the entrance and immediately opened my umbrella to shield me from the rain. I closed my eyes for one, two seconds and let out a quick sigh before turning around and blurting out four embarrassing words; »I think you're interesting.« I looked at him, hoping for a sign that he'd liked my poor choice of words, instead of thinking I was delusional. His eyes looked sharply into mine as his lips turned into a smile.

»You must be impressed easily.« 

His response calmed me down and thus smile appeared on my face. I quickly let my umbrella point towards the ground, and moved closer to his face. It took a few seconds for me to stand on my tip toes in order for my cold lips to reach his cheek, before returning to my original pose and allowing the umbrella to once again shield me. For a brief moment, I saw redness in his cheek. Briefly.

As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become

I've always wondered what it must be like to be in high school. Is it true that those years are, hands down, the best years of your life? You could argue that your life can't possibly be at its peak when you're dealing with pimples on your buttcheeks as well as immature teenage boys inventing new slang - slang which sounds as stupid as you'd expect.

I expected it to be a time of my life where I would look like a beautiful supermodel, and all eyes would be on me the second I enter the school property. The teenage boys' eyes would be analyzing my entire body, desperately wishing they could use their hands to examine me as if I was a Biology project. The teenage girls' eyes would showcase their envy and their desire for wanting to be like me.

Yet whenever I enter school property, I feel nothing emotionally. Physically, however, is a different story. I feel my skin producing dozens of pimples all at once while my butt' size is gradually increasing. But of course, that is, realistically speaking, impossible.

I looked around me. Immediately I noticed almost every single student as though they desperately needed a Dr. Pepper to save them from the misery that was Geography class. I recalled Ricky Mantle once describing this class with a simple sentence: »What's the purpose of Geography class when the U.S is the only relevant country anyway?« Ignorance is bliss.