AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Which was pretty pathetic, if someone asked me.
I sighed as I kept sketching in the margins of my notes from class. I drew little characters to act out scenes from world history we’d already learned about. I drew a bobblehead of Clint with his tongue hanging out and his eyes crossed. I smiled as I made a little speech bubble. I giggled as I wrote out all sorts of jokes that made him look like the knuckle-dragging, drooling idiot he was.
Then the detention teacher shushed me.
I peeked up at him, watching as he went back to reading his book. I rolled my eyes and propped my chin against my hand, continuing to sketch little bobbleheads. I had one of Clint with his ripped leather jacket tossed over his face. I had one of him bent over, with his ass crack showing. I had one of him drunk, with his eyes rolled back and vomit sliding down his chin. I quickly felt the therapeutic effects taking hold, and before I knew it there were four entire blank pages filled to the brim with comedic, insulting doodles of this asshole.
Soon, the bobbleheads became extensive drawings. I created an entire character around this guy. A character that went around trying to pick on people before getting his ass beat. The pages of my notebook became comic book blocks. And soon, dialogue flowed from my fingertips. I licked my lips, focusing on the way my pencil markings flowed across the paper. And I thanked my stars I had mechanical pencils. I got them for free at the grocery store, along with the lead. Which meant never having to get up and sharpen my pencil.
So my creative flow was never interrupted.
Serves him right.
I drew him in all sorts of scenarios. Falling into a volcano after being shoved out of a helicopter by Allison. Being tossed to the alligators by Michael after he made an unsavory joke about her. Me, shoving him off a cliff and watching as he plummeted to the water, crying like the gigantic baby he was as his arms flailed around in the air.
An image from my dream bombarded my mind. My own arms flailing as I fell, deeper and deeper into the darkness.
Not even Clint deserves to know what that feels like.
I ripped the page out of my notebook and crumpled it up. Which earned me a hearty shush from the teacher at the front of the classroom. I decided to draw me putting Clint into the wall instead. Shoving him so hard into the wall his nose bled. Pulling at his wrist so much it dislocated. I let my imagination run away with me, concocting all sorts of scenarios where Clint got exactly what was coming to him.
Then I closed my notebook with a sigh.
I looked up at the clock and saw I still had thirty more minutes. Great. Thirty fucking minutes to sit here and contemplate my life. I pulled my ponytail out of its holder and re-did it. Put it up higher on my head to get it off the nape of my neck. I wasn’t sure why the room was so hot, but for some reason I kept sweating down my back. It made my shirt stick to my skin and caused the seat underneath me to grow damp.
And the only thing it made me think about was how relentlessly Clint would be teasing me right now if he were here.
Thank fuck, he isn’t.
I gazed out the window and let my mind wander. I replayed one of the many conversations Allison had already spewed over lunch about her future plans. College, and all that. It didn’t shock me that, miraculously, Michael wanted to go to the same college as her. He pretended that it was because their sports management program was the best in this part of the country. Allison, of course, was clueless about what he was doing. She was clueless about how Michael felt about her, and it was almost comedic. It was so juicy and delicious that I could’ve written an entire comic book series on their interactions. On the way Michael drooled over her and how absolutely brain dead she was to the entire thing.
It was sweet.
In a weird sort of way.
Allison’s conversations had me thinking, though. I mean, regular college would never be for me. But I also didn’t want to work at the grocery store for the rest of my life. If I wanted to really chase a dream, I’d chase character design. I’d apply for schools that cared more about artistic talent than grades, and I’d submit a portfolio. Granted, it wouldn't be a professional portfolio. Just shit I’d done in my art electives. But the thought made me smile.
Being able to do graphic and character design for the rest of my life genuinely made me smile.
Or maybe I could start my own comic book line.
I sighed as I slid down into my chair. Unlike Allison and Michael, however, I’d have to work full time in order to save up the money. I didn’t have the grades for scholarships, and being poor only got someone like me so far with federal grants and shit like that. I sure as hell wasn’t taking out loans, either. Not without some sort of guaranteed way to pay them back. Which meant me working in the grocery store full-time—or working another job full-time—until I saved up the money for my first few semesters.
Which meant Mom couldn't drink my money away.
Which meant I’d have to move out.
Which would cost money for rent and bills and shit like that.
Which I wouldn't be able to afford on an hourly paycheck of minimum wage.
Fuck.
I didn't want to let those things stop me, though. Because every time I walked into my house, it reminded me of the kind of life I didn’t want. It reminded me of the kind of legacy I didn’t want to leave behind. Every time I went over to Allison’s house or Michael’s place, the kind of life I wanted slapped me in the face. And not just the money, either. It was the happiness. Having a loving family that gave a damn about each other. Having mouth-watering food on the table for every meal. Having every kind of drink I could have ever possibly wanted spilling out of the fridge at any given moment.
I didn’t want to just survive, like my mother.
I wanted to thrive, like Allison and Michael.
