2Chapter Three: The Sad Clown
I hear my phone ringing somewhere under the mess of clothes that was my room. The vibrations hitting the wood gently woke me from the deep alcohol driven slumber. And I find myself lying in the pool of blue and gray striped sheets. Shirtless, but still wearing the pants from the night before, I pull myself up into a sitting position and survey my environment. The sun is blaring through the window illuminating the blue paint which covers the walls. The dust particles drift through the air in slow motion. Everything is tilted.
That's when the headache appears.
I mumble and drop my knees to the floor as I begin my search for the elusive phone, only to find it underneath an abandoned shoe.
"I'm here," I sputter into the phone, suddenly tasting the balls of Satan in my mouth. "I'm awake."
"Bro, I'm outside, hurry your ass up." Seph sounds only mildly agitated.
"Yeah, I'll be down in a second."
I flip my phone closed and drop it onto the floor with a thud. The time on the front screen screams 7:00 am.
I have an hour before junior orientation starts. I don't even have enough time to dwell on the creeping hangover that is my life.
I inhale and pull myself together enough to shower away the longer musky scent of liquor and whatever that chicks knock off perfume was. I still taste her on my lips and I brush my teeth till they bleed just to forget the way her tongue found its way into my mouth despite clenching my jaw. I took two tylenols on an empty stomach just to chase the headache that pulses on the bridge of my nose away. I know this is all a temporary fix.
Like a robot I dress myself in the uniform for Saint Sebastian Academy. Navy slacks too heavy for the humid summer weather. A white button down shirt that is immediately covered by a matching two button navy blazer, with fake side pockets and our school's emblem- a red and white shield with a black drawn bow and arrow pointing up- eloquently stitched right over our heart. I struggle with the red tie; swooping and pulling in incoherent directions to form a lopsided pratt knot.
Nothing could be done about the hair though. I know they will send me to detention if it isn't styled in accordance with school regulation, but they'd have to survive for one week or until I can convince Tifa to cut the locks for me. My face was the real issue. I touch the blotchy red spots on my cheeks that form when I drink entirely too much. Dark circles painted around my eyes as they burn a red that matches my tie. Dark red. The heavy sienna lightning in the school's auditorium would be my friend this morning; hiding every obvious flaw.
There was a girl who used to say I was handsome. Even like this. When I saw myself in the reflection of her two perfectly circled green eyes, I almost believed her.
My phone is going off again. The time screams 7:35am. It's twenty minutes from my house to school- on a good day. I grab my sunglasses- for a reprieve from my over-critical mind-and my keys and wallet join my phone in the back pocket of my pants.
My house is as still as the night before. If my parents are home I wouldn't know. It's too early for mom to grace the world with her semi-conscious body, and my dad has probably snuck out early to the safety of his four-walled office in Manhattan. My stomach protests as I approach the door, but it's kitchen is completely stripped of any edible items for quite a while. I keep hoping Claudia Strife will drag her bony frame to a grocery store to stock our fridge and pantry. And she continues to disappoint me.
However, Seph comes in clutch as he chucks a Dunkin Donuts bag at my face when I sit in the car. The sweet smell of cooked bacon fills my nose and I resist the urge to tear apart the brown bag like a rabid dog.
"Thanks honey."
Seph glares at me from behind aviators. "Fuck you, what took you so long?"
"I was trying to find my head. What time did we get home?"
He peels out of the spot in front of the beige brick prison that is my house with an echoing screech, that definitely had the stay-at-home moms rushing to their windows.
"I don't know," he chuckles, "I don't even remember how we got home."
"...but you drove?" I stop chewing my breakfast sandwich, "That's really not good.
"Swallow your food you god damn animal! He shouts, "and be careful, if I get anything on upholstery my dad will lose his shit." He clenches his jaw at the thought.
Seph looks more put together. His uniform hugs his six-foot frame much better than mine, which I notice the sleeves riding up my wrists. His silver hair cut short but with enough length to flip up the front. People used to mistake us for brothers with the way our noses slope, but his face is chiseled as if carved out of stone and as clear as the day he was born.. The two rows of pearly whites that sit behind tense lips are a gift from genetics, and he was spared the suffering of four years of braces-unlike me.
The Staten Island scenery flies past the window, with brown and gray buildings giving way to the big green trees of the south shore. Seph speeds down Richmond Road way above the speed limit, as if he is eager to get to school on time or has a death wish he hasn't shared with me. His system is up- the hottest hip hop for the new millennium pulses out of the open windows of his white 2003 Lexus hand-me-down he received from his father for his sixteenth birthday. He is one of the lucky few juniors blessed with an early birthday and a mode of transportation- relieving my mother of the burden of driving us in and out of school- and increasing his already bursting popularity with the ladies.
Seph's the guy every high school student strives to emulate-whether consciously or subconsciously. And he knows it. Every red light he checks himself in the rearview mirror- carefully gliding his fingers over the gel soaked tips of silver. Cocking his head side to side to ensure every pesky facial follicle was taken care of. Satisfied by the green light he continues his mad dash towards the muted brick structure tucked away in the woods of Tottenville.
"I see this year's tuition went towards that fancy new gold cross." I observe as we pull into the parking lot, the gross example of religious greed reflecting the car in its golden ridges as it hangs obviously over the two grand doors- the entrance to prime education. "I bet we still have the textbooks that refer to the 1992 election as something to look forward to."
"What does it matter? Everyone knows they don't teach shit passed World War 2."
"Is that something we should just be okay with?" I counter to my friends exhausted huff. "Our parents tank so much money into this place just for tuition- not to mention the hounding they get for donations throughout the year- you'd think the education we receive would be on par with the other academies in the city. But we are stuck using books and supplies that would make Tifa's school laugh."
"The money goes to sports, Cloudie, that's important," He smiles and winks- Seph's 100% serious as the newly inducted co-captain of the varsity baseball team, and up-and-coming star pitcher.
"Some of us don't have the luxury of being athletic."
"You just don't try. You just bitch."
"Fuck you, tell me where I'm wrong? You think it's right? The shovel us into this god forsaken place, throw mind numbing work at us, that really has no relation to the real world, then grade us on how much we've conformed to their ideologies. Go ahead, I dare you to challenge one of these burnt out teachers on something. Even if you are right, they shut you up with a detention slip and a trip to Palmer."
"Are you still pissed Mr. Hiedegger gave you detention 'cause of what you wrote as your final paper?
"I stand firmly that teaching an abridged version of Romeo and Juliet perpetuates the misguided notion that it is a love story and not a commentary on allowing emotions to dominate your life. And telling me that I am wrong in my interpretating of a fuckin play that was written hundreds of years ago is bullshit. You know it. I know it. That fat fuck Heideggar knows it!"
Seph stares at me for a long time, one eyebrow arched up. I'm waiting for his lecture- the "just shut up, no one cares about school. We are paying for a name to get into college, not an education. Stop being that loser in class that argues with everyone for no reason. Get a hobby. Join a sport." Instead, he goes simple: "You need to get laid already."
Car turned off. He exits and slams the door behind him, leaving me in the tomb of heat and humidity. Out the closed window, I watch as Cid and Barrett approach Seph from the direction of the bus stop. They exchange strained handshakes pulled into half hugs. The Staten Island male greeting. A little more icy in recent months.
The three shift awkwardly, probably engaging in small talk about last night's shenanigans- which I remember 50% of:
As was tradition, the other members of our group met Seph and I in front of the 7/11 on New Dorp Lane.
Cid lives on Greeley Avenue, a good seven blocks away, in a modest middle class home with his mother and two younger brothers. He is gruff, sharp around the edges, and usually with a cigarette- that he stole from me- planted in his mouth. He embraced the neo-punk rebellion like a textbook entry. Denim vest with patches of his favorite anti-establishment trademarks and spikes he bought from Spencers. A shirt with an obscure English band's logo in black and white. Jeans ripped worse than mine- but due to the same concert tragedy. When he didn't have to worry about the school breathing down his neck, his hair was every shade of the rainbow. But now, back to the short dirty-blonde and shifting as if his uniform is a straight jacket.
Barrett lives in the white stoned apartments near the train tracks- a metaphor he acknowledged and wore like an armor. He knew what the school thought of him, students and faculty alike. The mothers whispered that the color of his skin was his ticket into the school. Not his average in 8th grade or the fact he excelled in football the way Seph dominated baseball or that his father also graduated from Saint Sebastains. A fact they always seem to willingly forget. He rode the train and walked five blocks to meet us at the convenience store- though he was always the last to arrive and first to leave. He had arrived after we convinced a crackhead to buy us a 30 pack in exchange for five dollars. He and Cid act like they will "pay us back" but we never ask them. What's the point? They don't have guilt money.
With our powers combined, we made our way to the beach. Ducking through tick infested brush and stepping over herione needles, until we hear the untuned acoustic guitar playing Wonderwall over shrill screams and the crashing waves.
Cid and Barrett were the two responsible ones. After drinking their fair share of cheap beer they didn't purchase, they stumbled home before ten p.m. Before their respective mother's could miss them.-
I tried to remember the time on the clock when I crawled up the stairs but, instead, I'm gifted to head splitting darkness.
I exhale as if coming up for air and decide to join the three. I'm barely completely out of the car when Cid's body collides with mine and I nearly fall. He's screaming something in my ear, and if I had the fucking strenght and didn't drink it all away last night, I could probably have gotten the psycho off of me. But his arms are wrapped too tightly around mine. Constricted by a spikey- haired snake.
No one's helping. Barrett and Seph laugh- only time they do such a thing together when it's at my expense.
"Get off me, asshole!" I shout, trying to balance both our weight. He has clearly 3 inches on me, which doesn't help, really, anything.
"I'm so proud of you," He lifts me in the air, "you finally banged Jessie!"
"What?!" So that's when the perfume came from.
"No he didn't," Seph finally makes his way over, clutching his stomach from laughing, "not for a lack of trying on her part."
I tense and finally plant my feet firmly on the group. I shoot Seph a glare who pauses his amusement to curve his smile into a sardonic smirk. "Don't worry, Cloudie, I protected you."
"You cock block him?" Barrett questions.
"You should have seen him last night, bro! He couldn't even stand up, she was taking advantage of him!" His concern is feigned. We all know. At the first sight of free ass wandering passed Seph's eyes, he would abandon me to a pack of wolves.
Wouldn't be the first time. Probably not the last.
"Damn," Cid releases me, "I guess it's for the best. Probably wouldn't even be able to get it up! Ha."
"It's really strange how interested in my sex life you all are-"
"Not me," Barrett takes a few steps back, "That shits weird."
"It beats listening to him cry over Aerith." Seph counters sharply. "Been telling him to get laid since August."
My stomach churns and last night's booze threatens to make an encore.
Barrett pauses, as if even weighing the options and nods in agreement.
Traitor.
"Fuck all of you," I fix my jacket, wrinkled even more from Cid's outbursts, and shoot Seph a pseudo warning. "Let's go. We're going to be the only assholes who get detention on the first day back."
I push past them- a nerve struck- as they chuckle. The only time they are in-sync. Like a chorus with years of practice singing to the sad clown.
A/N: I was re-reading the old story and saw I had a boyfriend at Chapter 2 and ex-boyfriend by Chapter comes at your fast when your 16, dating a 19 year old from another state you met on the internet. Anyway, I have a husband at Chapter 3, let's see if he sticks around by Chapter 6.
