Nothing but Trouble

A Memoir

Just walking through the hallways is dreadful enough.  Angry feet are constantly pounding on the dull carpets.  The carpets were probably quite vivid back in the day, but now they harbor dust, only emerging due to the pounding feet just to settle back down elsewhere.  Occasionally the fluorescent lights will flicker, making the hallway dim for a moment- as if the lights in here need to be more dim.  This place is a creepy horror flick set in a hospital, and all of the people angrily walking around are the crazed, homicidal patients, waiting for the next chance to kill.

How I get out of here alive every day is a mystery to me.  Being one of the only sane ones, I must be a target.  I’m attacked and tortured by these crazed patients on a nearly day-by-day basis.  They say that it’s a dog eat dog world, and this high school is the epitome of that.

These students, and by students I mean beasts, are supposedly my “peers.”  But doesn’t the term have some hidden meaning saying that those in the group have some sort of respect for each other?  Not here, it doesn’t.  In here, they’re nothing but trouble.  

Walking out of the hallway, I reach the hub, which is slightly less creepy upon it’s entrance.  The people in this large, square room however are still the same crazed students as before.  Some sit close to each other, just a couple of them, whispering unheard things.  Everyone is aware that someone is talking, though.  Everyone is talking about someone; everyone is being talked about by someone.  There are others that sit in large groups, intimidating one another through loud curses and then laughing about it as if it’s a game.

The room is designed just like a prison without the holding cells.  There is a large space filled with nothing but the dull carpets where people can walk around throughout the day, while there are steps on either side leading the way to a secondary walk way (which would hold more cells in a prison).  With fries from the cafeteria in hand, I find my designated holding cell.  Someone else is there already.

All of a sudden the dull carpets become vivid.  The curses of the crazed students become the chorus of a host of angels.  The room, though usually dim, becomes bright with light flowing from this black haired girl with the skin of a porcelain doll sitting in my spot.  I expected her, yet the feelings that emerge from seeing her sitting there surprise me.  The fact that she makes me feel this way every time she sits here, even though that’s nearly every day, is surprising.  The fact of the matter is that I doubt she gets those same feelings; that sucks.  

“You’re like my big brother,” she would always say.

When I look to the right of her, the lights fade again, though this time even more dim.  The chorus of the host of angels turns not into yelling curses but into blood-curdling screams.  This already dark place turns into a living hell, as if it wasn’t already.  As I turn to see him sitting next to her, the blood in veins begins to boil.  I can’t even see his wretched face due to all of his black hair constantly in it.  I wouldn’t want to, though.  She’s with that boy again, but how could she?  After all he had done to her, why was he there?  After all the times I had been there for her prior to them breaking up, why was he there?  After he had been ferociously abusing her with his words and trying to control her as if she were his pet, he was nothing but trouble.

     I look for a moment at the pictures on the wall of people who used to be.  Their black and white faces hint at how long ago it was when they were my age, how long ago it was when they were stuck in this prison.  Although, maybe back then it wasn't so bad.  I can almost hear the one hanging on the red brick wall on the other end of the room.

Being stuck looking at these miserable folk all day makes me grow somber.  These young folk don’t understand how society is meant to work.  The things they say, not to mention the things that they do, are things I could never speak of back in my day.  I’ve particularly grown fond of the ones who get picked on, because they are more like how their peers should act.  They submit to their authorities and at least seem civil.  They are few and far between, but I get to observe one today.  His name is Ben, from what I’ve heard, and rumor has it that he is trying to steal this “emo” boy’s lady friend.  I think they call it that.  Yes, “emo.”  Oh, they think we old folk don’t have good ears, but we do!  I’d much prefer this Ben character for this girl than this “emo” boy.  Yes, yes, that poor, poor, child.  He seems a much nicer choice, and I know the girl claims Ben is her best friend.  

At least he’s on my side.

Why I am even thinking about sitting down with the two of them?  I don’t know.  She had noticed me, though and is already waving me over.  I pass her a dirty look, though I know she knows it’s intended for him.  We can say a lot with our eyes.

“Give me a break,” I had said.

“Just give it a chance,” she pleads.  Her eyes show desperation.  At least she desires my approval.

“Yeah right,” I think.  I’m done with all of this.  The amount I endure just by walking through the doors of the high school every day is torturing.  Now I know I’m about to lose my last sign of hope in this place.  My hope will ditch me once again for the same boy who destroyed her heart.  In losing that hope will come nothing but trouble.

Reluctantly, I sit down.  I begin chomping on my fries (the only good thing about this school) and with that, casual conversation. 

“I hate this school,” I grumble, “I just want to leave this place forever.”

“I know what you mean,” she says.

Not much of a conversation, but it goes on this way.

Eventually, we part ways.  Well, I part ways with them as they walk romantically into the ocean waves of the moonlit beach.  Makes me sick.  I sulk my way through the rest of the day and get out of the school as fast as possible, avoiding anyone and everyone including her.  I go home and tell my mom that I’m not ever going to school again.  Without reluctance, she agrees to let me stay home for the rest of my schooling.

I skip the next day of school, but the following day I have to go to the school office to finalize the choice.  I go in during lunch time so that I can see her one more time.  I feel pathetic.  I grab my papers and I turn in my books and then head over to my holding cell.  This will be the last time I’m ever there.  

This time, I’m the one that’s there first.  I have some time to get myself together.  The man in the picture stares at me.  I like to pretend he can speak and can give me fatherly advice, something I grew up lacking.  “You should just stay away from girls, boy, they’re nothing but trouble.”  After his short, non-existent pep talk, she walks over to our spot alone, thank goodness.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.  I guess I must have shot her a look.

“I’m leaving,” I say plainly.  “I’m staying home from now on.”

The shock she holds is clear.  Her big brown eyes are bigger than ever before.  Her pale skin seems oddly paler.  She’s clearly upset by my decision, which is surprisingly surprising to me.  I thought she would be upset, but then again I didn’t.  She has him again.  She doesn’t need me.  

She says good-bye and we go separate ways.  The whole situation is oddly anti-climactic.  I won’t dwell on it though.  I’ll just sulk.  Truthfully, I think I’m depressed, and she’s pissed with me.  I think I’ll have to deal with this for years.  I’ll deal with the rejection of her for years to come.

And so I did.  Because of dropping out of school, I’ve been in nothing but trouble.