Categories > Original > Drama > Drity: Moments and Dreams
1
Broken
"Read this," Patrick pulls out the note from Kathleen. He unfolded it and pointed to a paragraph of the slanted writing. I let my eyes fall on the words and read the sentence. Over and over. I made a slight choking noise. Patrick gave me a lopsided smile, and drooped his eyes. I blushed.
"Pat, you know I'm innocent." I looked out the window, my cheeks flaming. I snuck a peek at him. He was beautiful, although his face wasn't as beautiful as it was two years ago. Not as smooth, or round, it was still undeviating beauty. He poked me.
"What's up?" he asked, forcing me to turn and look at him. I shrugged, and opened my mouth, only to be cut off by the girl in front of us.
"Ya'll kin?"
"Um. No. Er... Why?" She raised a professionally arched eyebrow.
"Well, you two look like kin." I laughed, a high tinkling laugh that I hated with a passion.
"We do?"
"Yeah. Kinda like twins." Patrick choked.
"T-twins?!" She arched the other eyebrow at him and turned around. I banged Pat on the back.
"You okay?" I asked, as he sucked in air. He nodded, his face red. I looked at him with eyes of concern. After a few moments, and after he got his breath back, we were silent. Then I turned back to him.
"Am I coming over?"
"No." He answered to quickly.
"You're going to have Kath over, aren't you?" He looked surprised but nodded.
"Yeah. Kath over." I nodded and looked out the window. I willed tears down. What was going on with him? Did I say something in homeroom? Shit. I couldn't stand it if he stopped talking to me. God, don't let him stop. Please don't let him stop. Please. I would die. I would just jump from the moving bus. Don't let me sing sad songs about how much I hurt. Don't let me.
The bus stopped and I crawled over Patrick's lap with my backpack. "I'll see you," I muttered twisting my hips to get to the front of the bus. I stepped off the steps and stood on my dusty driveway. My face was normal, the usual relaxed 'I finally got home' look. I held my backpack in my left hand as I stared at the pebbles. I brushed some hair from my face. What was I waiting for?
"GODDAMINT! GOD! DAMINT!" I threw my bag on the ground and fell on my ass, twisting my ankle like a pretzel. "GODDAMINT!!!" I beat my fists on the ground like a three year old, screaming and crying. I put my dirty hands on my face and sobbed. I sat there until sunset, then used a rake as a crutch to hobble over to the neighbors'. Knock on their door, take care of yourself. But please forget. Fix me.
"I think I broke my ankle."
Broken
"Read this," Patrick pulls out the note from Kathleen. He unfolded it and pointed to a paragraph of the slanted writing. I let my eyes fall on the words and read the sentence. Over and over. I made a slight choking noise. Patrick gave me a lopsided smile, and drooped his eyes. I blushed.
"Pat, you know I'm innocent." I looked out the window, my cheeks flaming. I snuck a peek at him. He was beautiful, although his face wasn't as beautiful as it was two years ago. Not as smooth, or round, it was still undeviating beauty. He poked me.
"What's up?" he asked, forcing me to turn and look at him. I shrugged, and opened my mouth, only to be cut off by the girl in front of us.
"Ya'll kin?"
"Um. No. Er... Why?" She raised a professionally arched eyebrow.
"Well, you two look like kin." I laughed, a high tinkling laugh that I hated with a passion.
"We do?"
"Yeah. Kinda like twins." Patrick choked.
"T-twins?!" She arched the other eyebrow at him and turned around. I banged Pat on the back.
"You okay?" I asked, as he sucked in air. He nodded, his face red. I looked at him with eyes of concern. After a few moments, and after he got his breath back, we were silent. Then I turned back to him.
"Am I coming over?"
"No." He answered to quickly.
"You're going to have Kath over, aren't you?" He looked surprised but nodded.
"Yeah. Kath over." I nodded and looked out the window. I willed tears down. What was going on with him? Did I say something in homeroom? Shit. I couldn't stand it if he stopped talking to me. God, don't let him stop. Please don't let him stop. Please. I would die. I would just jump from the moving bus. Don't let me sing sad songs about how much I hurt. Don't let me.
The bus stopped and I crawled over Patrick's lap with my backpack. "I'll see you," I muttered twisting my hips to get to the front of the bus. I stepped off the steps and stood on my dusty driveway. My face was normal, the usual relaxed 'I finally got home' look. I held my backpack in my left hand as I stared at the pebbles. I brushed some hair from my face. What was I waiting for?
"GODDAMINT! GOD! DAMINT!" I threw my bag on the ground and fell on my ass, twisting my ankle like a pretzel. "GODDAMINT!!!" I beat my fists on the ground like a three year old, screaming and crying. I put my dirty hands on my face and sobbed. I sat there until sunset, then used a rake as a crutch to hobble over to the neighbors'. Knock on their door, take care of yourself. But please forget. Fix me.
"I think I broke my ankle."
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