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12 ½ years old
"Shawty had them apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was looking at her. She hit the floor, next thing you know, shawty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low
The deafening loud music was pumping from speakers in the gymnasium while the 6th, 7th and 8th graders were moving their hips to the rhythm of the song. Some were shouting, others were jumping and others whipping their hair like they owned the dancefloor. Some girls, more daring than others, started to bump and grind their butts against some boys crotch, what made them even more excited than they already were. Though the lights were turned on and off at times to denounce the dirty dancing that was going on, the crazy innocent youth was enjoying the party as never they did before, feeling like they were invincible and they'd never live this again. Like they were living their first teenage dream ever.
Like they were having the time of their life.
And here I was, hiding in the girls' bathroom, with two of my friends. Maybe also my only friends. Not that I didn't know how to dance, in contrary, I was an expert at it. But just
that I didn't feel like it anymore.
"Come on, Court," Started Bridgette, my best friend since 4th grade. "I really want to dance! Why don't you go tell him already?"
"Yeah, you should. That guy is so dumb he won't even remember tomorrow, or all the alcohol he'll get tonight at the party will make him forget. And if it can free you from that weight, why not?" My other friend, Heather pointed out, rolling her eyes.
I looked up at them, and saw honesty in their stares.
They were sincere, just like the true friends they were to me.
I sighed, "I don't know if that's a great idea. I mean, we barely know each other! We're just in the same English class and we "
"Okay, that's it Courtney." Heather rudely cut me off, getting me to glare at her worriedly. "This story has been going on for too long now. The only question you need to ask yourself is; do you want something to happen?"
I nodded nervously.
"Then I know what's left for us to do."
Without any more warning, the long haired Asian grabbed my hand firmly and ran out the girls' washroom, leaving Bridgette helpless but only able to follow us out.
And this is when I wished I was dead.
13 years old
An hour had passed since the party had started and I didn't see anyone bringing the vodka yet. Neither beer, nor spiking the punch that had the taste of soap mixed with sugar. On this part, the party was really boring.
Nevertheless, I was dancing with the hottest girl ever. Pretty tall, nice ass, so sexual in her moves, she'd let me touch her anytime. My dream girl
If only I knew her name.
I know it's weird for most of you to start dancing this way with someone you barely know, but this is how I work. I meet a girl, she hits on me, I kind of like her, we dance, we kiss, we say goodbye. I've never been able to be in a serious relationship, except with one girl. A girl I truly cared about
And she left me.
I kept dancing, trying to forget the thought of her getting to me. No girl living at kilometers from here would hurt him tonight. It was almost Christmas, and the biggest thing he could ask for this year was to forget her.
And then the record changed to Gym Class Heroes' "Cupid's Chokehold".
"Take a look at my girlfriend, cuz she's the only one I got. Not much of a girlfriend, I never seem to get a lot
I sighed as the chick lowered in front of me stood back up and took my hands, facing me seductively. Her lips placed next to my ear, I could still scent the smell of the cigarette she grilled earlier that night and her cherry lipstick mixed together. She whispered to me she was going to get a drink, also telling me to reserve another dance for her by the end of the night.
Truth is, she was dancing; I was getting an erection.
Feeling a little reassured this song was pretty slow, I took advantage of the situation to make my way towards the washroom, jus to
calm down a little. Pacing through the floor until I reached the two or three steps leading to the hallways, I sneered at the amount of people dancing horribly bad and actually thinking they've got all the moves. I felt a little
pitiful for them.
Bypassing a few of them making out in front of some doors, though they had serious chances to get caught, I could make my way through the hallways without anymore problems.
I heard some whispers coming from nearby the girl's bathroom, but I didn't mind them so I didn't pay attention much.
Well, I didn't until I heard a girl practically shouting; "Look! He's there! Go now!"
I didn't have the time to realize what was happening, that I saw a short brunette along with a tall Asian jump in front of me. I didn't care about the Asian, but I did notice the brown haired girl.
Her name was Courtney Harrington. She was in my English class. Despite her braces stuck on each tooth of her mouth, her big black glasses and her funny way to walk, I found her charming. She had that little something no other girl I had ever met had.
She was true, and didn't mind saying what was on her heart.
This was my kind of girl.
I smirked, not letting my sweetheart attitude take over my badassness. Thus, this made Miss Head-Bitch-in-Charge next to Courtney roll her eyes obnoxiously.
"Okay, let's get to the point." She started, seeing Courtney wasn't saying a word. "Duncan, Courtney has a little something to tell you."
She then looked at Courtney, whose face turned red of embarrassment. Heather, being impatient, nudged her and kept glaring at her, trying to insist on the fact she had to do it.
I knew what came next. I started reddening after that last action, and looked down to the floor, just to avoid her onyx eyes. I heard her take a deep breath as our hearts started pumping hard at an unusual rhythm. Of course, Heather, heartless as she always was, didn't even care about what was happening.
" The brunette started of her high-pitched voice, a little stiffened by the fear of the moment. "I
have a crush on you."
At this especial moment, I swear, I should have been happy since I felt the same way as she did
But something kept my joy away. I
I couldn't crush on her. I wasn't allowed to.
Courtney Harrington was at the lowest ranks of social hierarchy. Not right under the jocks and cheerleaders, not even next to the drug people and sexual bombs
She was ranks and ranks under them; right next to the teacher's pets, stuck-up unpopular preps and useless nerds.
I was right between the jocks and the pushers, being a smart athlete and hanging with dealers. I was popular, I was wanted. Courtney was bullied by 8th grader chicks and accused of being the teacher's pet every time people had the occasion to. I tried to convince them to stop discreetly but alas, they weren't listening. So I couldn't do anything. But I liked Courtney, she was nice and was not the kind of girl who'd turn slutty once they'd enter high school.
But my buds didn't.
Which clearly meant, 'us' was impossible.
I didn't dare looking at her, because I felt like she was going to faint at any moment. Instead, I gave her an answer, as she wanted.
And I walked away, leaving both girls speechless.
And I regretted I didn't say anything more.
16 years old
I lifted my head from my desk, snapped back from the sound of that fat guy named Owen sneezing loud in a Kleenex. I grunted, feeling like punching him of all my might since I hated being interrupted in a daydream.
Or, if daydreaming a bad souvenir is scary, a nightmare.
Luckily, the overweight blond had chosen the right time to snap me back to reality, or else I'd be caught sleeping in literature class and sent directly to the principal's office. That damn cunt of Mrs. Dawn hadn't any sense of humor, nor was realizing her class was made for shitheads. Seriously, how will it serve any of us to know that Victor Hugo wrote 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' a long while ago?
I had dreams and I wanted to live them. So, once I'd graduate, I had sworn I'd go away. Start my own life, my own story. And not care about the others anymore. My parents may not be happy with that idea, but they have no choice to accept it. This was my life, and I wouldn't waste it in school.
I was again lost in my thoughts until we all heard someone knocking at the classroom door. That old Mrs. Dawn, of her wrinkled face flashed one of her rare smile and went opening the door, babbling something I didn't listen to.
But what I coming through the door summed up what she was saying.
A petite brunette, her hair perfectly placed, her books fixed under her arm and wearing a short skirt and a Hollister polo stormed in the room, babbling some sincere apologies about her delay, that were immediately accepted by the old lady, probably advertised of her arrival earlier. Mrs. Down assigned the young prep a seat, and continued her class like nothing happened.
I recognized those legs, I recognized that than, I recognized that hair. But the only girl knew that had all those features had moved to New York two years ago.
But the mystery of her identity was clarified when I took a glance at her notebook, on which was written in perfectly designed letters 'Courtney H'.
So, it only meant one thing.
The hot chick seated in diagonal of me was the girl I let go three years ago. The one that was unpopular, had metal in her mouth, acne all over her face and was wearing they biggest glasses I was ever done to see.
This girl was Courtney Harrington. This bomb was Courtney Harrington, the girl that told me she liked me three years ago.