I wrote a bit, since I'm procrastinating and not bothering to clean when I thought I would.
Haven't edited it. Haven't even looked at it. Just typed it. As yet untitled. Won't title it till I'm done.
Part 1
"So... did dragons come before or after dinosaurs?"
I laughed. The class laughed. Then, slowly, we all realized she wasn't joking.
Mr. Amaryllis' face remained deadpan. Slowly, he looked up, and began, "Dragons don't exist, Miss Marlin."
A few people snickered. And yet... Callie wasn't perturbed. She wasn't blushing, she wasn't... even paying the least bit of attention at all to the people laughing at her.
I stared.
"What do you mean? I read about them in a book! They breathe fire and fly!"
I stared some more. How could anyone be this stupid? This... ignorant? This time no one even made a peep. We were all just staring.
The teacher looked up again. His crinkled, aged face didn't change a bit. To my recollection, he never laughed. Ever.
"No, Miss Marlin, Dragons don't exist. It's impossible for a living creature to... how should I put this... internally combust, and produce flames from their jaws without ending its own life. Dragons are just a myth, a story. You're not supposed to..."
I stopped listening. I was still staring. You could see the defiance in her eyes, mingled... with... what was it... ignorance? In seventh grade we just called it stupidity.
It worked, I suppose.
"But..."
The bell rang. I didn't get up. I felt... and quite probably became... vastly stupider than I had when I walked into that classroom. But other people went rushing off to their lunch periods, the tumultous noise coming from the hall reminded me that I was the last one left. Even Callie had gone. I fixed my jaw, picked up my books, and walked out... and hit my head repeatedly against the locker across the hall.
"That bad, eh?"
That was Jared. I guess you could've called him my best friend at the time. He was the popular one, the kid with what passed off as a punk attitude these days... the one with the body all the girls pined after. Smart guy though.
"Yeah. Fuck."
The word felt so right coming out of my lips. Fuck. So grown up. So perfect. And it erased all of that... crap... that stupidity, that ignorance. Fuck.
"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just go get lunch. Food's good."
I ambled over to my locker, thumbing the dial, and tossed my books in it. I doubted I'd need them the rest of the day. All I had left was World History. What a joke. White history, more like, and I could recite it all with my eyes closed.
*****
Lunch floated on by. Someone brought some of their dad's vodka in a water bottle. We all took it straight. We were real men now. Hair between our legs, and all that. J-rod and his 'girlfriend' at the time headed out back to the bleachers for a smoke. I went with for a bit.
"How bout them Leafs?"
"Fuck the Leafs. Hockey sucks." She with the sunken eyes and the pale face hung onto him a bit harder.
"Yeah. Just sayin, you know. Conversation." A crushed pop can skittered across the pavement. So hockey wasn't cool anymore. Part of life.
"Yeah."
He slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and slid out a fag. The bleachers weren't far. It was best for me to leave the two of them alone together.
"Hey listen, I'm going to go get some stuff from the Quickie before lunch ends, see ya around."
A noncommital shrug and I was off. I didn't bother to look back, I could see them already in my mind's eye, wrapped around each other in that awkward, lanky way. Fuck.
The Quickie wasn't far, but I had no intention of actually going. There was something else that needed doing. I slid my one smoke out of my pants and put it in my mouth and I reached the edge of the field, and slid into the trees. I looked around, chose a direction, and walked. I was on the hunt.
I fumbled with my jacket till I found my Zippo. I guess you could say I loved it, it was one of the few things I truly owned. I flicked it open and struck it.
Stop.
Not a sound. I had expected... something. Something. I flipped the lid back with a clink.
Still nothing. I put it in my pocket and drew the fag out of my mouth, and slid it behind my ear.
Putting my fingers to my lips, I whistled.
A yip. Barely even a bark. It sounded leagues away. Miles. Kilometres. Whatever.
I put the smoke back in my mouth and walked towards it. Leaves crackled underfoot as I winded through the trees. It was getting blitherly cold out, with winter coming round the bend. I struck the lighter again... and this time, another yip. And another noise. I lit the fag, and made towards it.
I tripped on a root in my hurry and fell crashing into the leaves. First thing I did was check my cigarette... broken. Damn. Fuck. My last one too. Bollocks and other profanities.
Crunching. I rolled onto my back, and got my face mauled by the panting tongue and hot breath of a puppy. Ben. Benji was a stupid name. Ben.
And that unexpected noise.
"Are you alright?"
*****
End Part 1.
