I Challenge You Forum Descriptive Writing

 High School Hell
and the danger of teenage sorrow


           He walked languidly through the hall, dreading his approach to the lunch room.
His Nirvana shirt was torn in several places and his dark jeans were stained with numerous
different colors. Dirty Boy, they use to call him, not today, he thought as he passed
the white washed walls into the baby blue cafeteria. The putrid smell of foul fish
sticks clung about the air as though it were a mist. Choking back the nausea, he
stepped into the lunch line. At least 20, richly dressed, model wannabees stood
between him and his Peanut Butter and Jelly. Sighing, as the mix of perfumes and
hot food, washed passed him, he glanced about. No one looked up, their blurred
faces passed his thoughts but did not enter. No friendly smile awaited him today,
nor would it ever again. Even if they didn't know her, they would know of her,
and at least he would eat his lunch in peace. There were new posters every where
with famous actors and T.V. stars telling them to drink milk,
eat right and exercise. Yeah right, he thought, glaring at Hilary Duff's cocky milkly grin.
Waiting as the line slowly slipped in and out of the kitchen and then register area,
he began to wonder if he'd brought his lunch money. Digging into his pockets,
 he suddenly froze as a mysterious ooze entrapped his hand.
THOSE JERKS!!!! Not daring to pull his hand free and show
the entire lunch room what Dawson Henry and his jock heads thought was a funny prank,
he turned to leave. Just then Dawson and his flunkies enter through another door.
He knew because once he was spotted they broke out into hysterics. JERKS!!!
He rushed to the bathroom down the white, near empty hall bypassing the distracted teacher.
Hand made poster's, written on red and orange construction paper read;
"PROM NEXT WEEK!! Tickets will be sold in Mrs. Frank's Class, Room 343.
Hurry! Don't miss out on this once and a lifetime event!"
He groaned as he saw this, and quickly scurried faster, trying to out run his memory of
Mrs. Frank's 3rd period English class. The only class where he looked
 forwarded to group assignments, though not anymore. Taking a
sharp turn around hall E, he spotted his salvation only a few doors away, finally.
The bathroom, though foul, was thankfully empty. The yellow tiles
held secrets to which no one need know; random stains of which dotted
their shiny outer coat like polka dots on a nice sun dress. Bunches
of dirty paper towels lay casually next to the large plastic green trash can,
as though they belonged. With his clean hand he turned the metallic faucet on and
as the fixture shot steaming hot water, he glared into the mirror. His face began to turn
deep red and soon he was clenching his braced teeth.The over powering scent of urine was
instantly warmed and quickly he turned on the cold water till the smell
lessened. His hand was covered, he could see as he pulled the sticky green slime from
his now ruined pants pocket. It clung with such voracity the water would not even
remove the most of it. Grumbling as the water splashed wet warmth onto his face,
he thought again of Jessica. He would never again see her shinning brown eyes
as they laughed behind those ridiculously large glasses. Though everyone called
her fat Erkle, he saw something more, something beautiful. I should have told her so.
He knew, had he spoke up, she may still be around; she might not have had to. Crap!
The water had splashed his pants till they looked as though he had wet himself.
Yanking the scratchy brown paper towels from the black plastic holder, he sighed once more.
Scrubbing the water mark did nothing, and soon he gave up. Rubbing at the ooze with
the damp towel instead. After a few good rubs it finally began to
 come off. I should have told her, he reminded himself; over and over since
 the news sunk in. Yanking free a pea green stall door, he closed it
just in time to watch it blur as the tears broke free from his now shaking head.