Sunday, June 10, 2012

Library Revision

I've been working today on my revision of Thursday's prompt.  After an afternoon of word-smithing, I have lost my steam.  Here is attempt #2.  Feedback is welcomed!  Thank you!!



The period bell rings and at last we are released into the swell of hormone-ridden hallways.  The sweet smell of Axe combined with mint and sweat, lockers slamming, laughing and whispers engulf me as I head to the cafeteria.  Nonsense.  The energy it must take to be popular.  Thrashing through the swarm of Hollister and Abercrombie, I imagine a place where I might belong.  Not here.
As I round the corner, turquoise blue catches my eye.  Of course.  Now it all makes sense.
Of course she is in the library at lunchtime.  I'm sure Miss I-Am-So-Smart-And-Perfect is thinking that she can get another shiny "A+" to add to her perfect GPA by spending her time trolling around with the librarian instead of ruining her perfect figure eating in the cafeteria.
What is wrong with her?  She sits in front of me in Lit class, and has yet to say a word to anyone but Mr. Sykes.  I study her glossy honey locks, held in place by a gold clip every day.   So does David, sitting in the seat next to mine.  I see him watching her, waiting for an awkward opportunity to catch her eye that never comes, because she never turns around.  Miss Stiff-Neck.
Who does she think she is?   She thinks that she can just ignore the rest of us, her subordinates, by raising her hand, always getting a, "Very insightful!" or a, "Nice analogy!" from the teacher.   Miss Gifted-Dream-Student would never think of associating with the rest of us peons occupying her air.
What does he see in her?  Poor David, the notion that she would ever consider him as a potential prom date has him oozing with want.  For two years I've witnessed his pathetic attempts to engage in conversation, his faulty pedestrian attempts to make her smile.  Yet his ardent efforts are continually met with lukewarm murmurs and indifference.
When he smiles at her, she doesn't know that he chipped his front tooth in third grade sliding into home plate.  When he looks at her, she doesn't see how his deep jade eyes seek entry into her soul.  When he speaks, she doesn't hear the sound of his ____________.   I do.

 There she goes, her aura floating into the Non-Fiction section.  Blah.  Blah.  Blah.

She has everything, and yet she has no clue of the value of David's attention.  I wonder what Miss Look-At-My-Expensive-Monogrammed-Backpack will do when she discovers her precious bag has disappeared and vomited its contents all over the courtyard?
Let me know.  I'll be eating lunch.

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