Derogate

Just a little snippet of high school life.

I wrote this when I was feeling really down about my peers not including me, and how because of that I went off toward the teacher side.  This was just a day with a prime example.

 

Things have gotten much better since graduation, so there's no problem here.  Smile.

 

Picture credit to Ghislain & Marie David de Lossy.

 

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“I lost The Game!” the girl howled.  She followed this by slapping her hand against her knee and, consequently, wincing.  “I hadn’t lost for three weeks.”

            She looked around at the now silenced faces and felt her own fall.

            “…not to derogate from conversation or anything…” she quickly muttered and looked down at her shoelaces.  The girl next to her—a dark-skinned beauty with marvelously lustrous dark hair and soft brown eyes—immediately spoke again.

            “So you gave him the chocolate.  What next?!”

            “Well…” began the third girl, a willowy female with striking blue eyes and crisp features, “I told him to ‘eat this, it’s good!’”

            “Ohhh, what’d he doooo?” the interested female questioned.  The first girl continued to stare remorsefully at her shoelaces, as bland and uninteresting as they were.  She kept her thoughts from drifting off into the World of Kiwi, in which all shoelaces were rainbow…

            “He said thanks.”

            The dark-haired girl clapped her hands together once and bounded over, throwing herself happily onto the cafeteria floor.  “Yay!”

            “Then I ran away,” the other girl finished.  The two laughed.

            The distanced girl attempted to visualize herself being absorbed by the constant sound of the cafeteria—the beeping of the machines, that variety in pitches of voices, and whatever bird was tapping on the glass window.  Somehow, those sound waves would drag her spirit away from the scene and leave her body a dull shell.  No one would notice the lack of spark in her eyes, the lack of idiosyncrasy in the odd behaviors…

            She cut that line and blinked, sighing as the beige wall of brick-like-things came back into view, almost hesitantly.  They seemed to ask her, ‘wouldn’t you prefer to stay in your land where the bricks talk and dance and sing with color and life?’  She twitched her ears rather than shake her head.

            “Dana?”

            No response.  Maybe she hadn’t come all the way back, and hadn’t really said anything…  But her throat felt different—used.  She tried again.

            “Dana?”

            The girl looked up at the interrupting female briefly, back at her other fair-skinned counterpart, and back again to the questioner.

            “Kiwi?” she answered.

            Kiwi had to hold eye contact for the conversation to stay, as shaky as it was on such thin ice.

            “What class do we have next?”  Inner Kiwi scoffed.  What a meager attempt to get back into conversation.

            “I think we have bug…” said the other girl—light-haired Lindsay.

            “Thanks,” Kiwi responded.  “Did we—”

            “Oh!  Were those sheets due today?” Dana asked as she looked back at Lindsay.  Kiwi frowned, but no one noticed.  Over so quickly.  Well, that was through.

            She got up and hobbled with cane in tow through the thin isle, vaguely noting that the response was ‘yes’ and, unfortunately, the sheets hadn’t been finished…

            Kiwi bumped a few people on the way out of the cafeteria.  None of them looked her in the eyes.  It wasn’t that hard.  They didn’t have to look a great distance up or down, did they?  No wonder she felt secluded.

            The hall smacked her in the face with relative silence—just a few voices trickling through two sets of doors from the other end of the hall.  To the left, another set of doors leading to her sacred empty reading space and, above that, the scary staff area that she tried to avoid.  In front of her, the door to Spanish.

            Not showing much interest in the true subject, she stepped in and turned left away from the monitor of the class.

            Little blue messenger bag?  Check.

            Computer monitor on?  Check.

            Scent of something wonderfully unnamed?  Check.

            Comfortable feelings?  Check.

            Mrs. Cavanagh was in the room!

            “Good morning!” she said, walking in that elegant stride of hers towards the new arrival.  Kiwi smiled and took in the outfit—a blue sweater with a kitten brooch, long blue pants, and black shoes.  Various jewelry—blue in hue, for the most part—adorned her ears and neck.

            “Good morning,” Kiwi repeated.

            “Exciting weekend?”

            “Certainly!”

            It felt right again.  Their conversation flowed, switching speakers every few lines.  Kiwi had to admit she took a tad more than her share, but no one seemed to mind.  She was greeted with listening ears.  How wonderful that felt.

            Smiling and excited for the day, she hugged the tall female almost regretfully—time was up—and took a few steps back to leave the room.  She turned, shot another smile, and waved.

            “See ya,” Mrs. Cavanagh ventured with an even smile.  Kiwi rejoiced to see it reach the woman’s bright blue eyes.

            Time for class.

Reviews

[Nova]

Again word choice..I love it. Your stories can relate to many people and you do a great job of doing that. The stories dont' just come to you they come from you mind and heart because you know how it feels. I think thats why I like your stories. Well done. This was another great write.