"Young Bloods" - Chapter One
Dec. 21st, 2014 03:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spacewhistlerLalochieza
(n.) the emotional relief gained from using abusive or profane language.
Sometimes, I zone out in the middle of the class.
With my head in my hands, I stared out of the window, twirling my pen with my fingers. I thought of the things I could do instead of staying stuck here inside this classroom. I thought of browsing the net, looking for new things that can rouse me from my current lethargic state. I thought of hanging out at the rooftop, as per usual, and smoking my last cigarette stick. I thought of sitting on the toilet in one of the cubicles of the restroom and doze off for a bit. There were so many things I can do right at this moment, yet I was here, slouching lazily on my chair, daydreaming about the end of this class while the professor’s voice continued its slow drone in the background.
I exhaled loudly after taking a deep breath. School sure was tiring.
“Mr. Santiago.”
The call for my attention was something I expected. As I have mentioned, I zone out sometimes. Professors tend to notice every time, though.
“Yes?”
I seemed to possess the ability to annoy people. Quite extraordinary, but I was proud of it. It was a rare talent that I planned to exhaust to an extent. The corners of my mouth pulled up at the sides, forming a smirk I was infamously known for.
The professor’s heels clacked loudly on the floor on his way to get to my chair. He stopped beside my feet with his eyes firmly trained on mine. He was our old and balding history teacher who I deemed to have aged in his job as an instructor. Our high school was one of the oldest in the country and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has been teaching here since it was founded.
That thought made me giggle. Consequently, the teacher leaned in closer to my face as if to inspect me in an uncomfortable distance. His face has turned a violent shade of puce that I nearly had to hold in another laugh. Instead, I muffled it with a hand.
“To be frank, Mr. Santiago, you have been getting into my nerves ever since we met on the first day of classes. One more act like this and I’d have you out of this classroom on your pathetic little bottom.”
I grabbed the bottom in question and scoffed, feigning offence. He shot me a feral grin that could rival my cunning smirk before he turned away to return to his lesson.
I have always felt his animosity for me, even on the very first day. He was a piece of work, wasn’t he? Out of all the teachers in this school, the seemingly oldest one had the absolute guts to match me and my words.
For his credit, I truly admired that.
As he bade the class goodbye, he threw a furtive glance my way and with a salute, he made his languid albeit confident exit.
With that kind of professor, I think I might start attending this class more, huh?
-o-
I was having a fitful sleep on one corner of the library when shouts intervened rather rudely. I thought this was supposed to be the most serene room in school. I scratched the back of my head in exasperation but there was another shout.
“I’M SORRY BUT I CAN’T DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”
The voice sounded familiar. But this time, it held some sort of anger or panic or fear: I wasn’t really sure. Curious, I crept in closer, hiding beneath shelves of thick books of the fiction section.
“But sir…I didn’t mean to…” the girl’s meek voice was shaking. In fear, perhaps.
A hand slammed down on the massive desk of the librarian, who was surprisingly absent. She always made sure to never leave her precious desk unattended. So why was it empty now? The girl jumped and gave a little shriek.
“You…you just can’t help yourself, can you? You can’t stop that mouth from spouting off lie after lie. And you think you can fool me?”
I sneaked a peek in between the books and saw a female student, bowing and cowering under the forefinger of a professor. I swore I saw the professor before but his back was to me and all I could see was the girl as she squirmed when the guy pounded his meaty fist on the surface of the wooden table for the second time.
“You will soon leave this school. Make that a promise.”
His voice held certainty carved in stone. His closed fists shook in front of the girl’s face, as if he was restraining himself from doing something rash. He might have done so, but he was suddenly reminded of his position in this institution. In the end, he decided to keep them by his side and proceeded to strode off the library, slamming the door behind him, the painful sound echoing inside the once again quiet room.
I emerged from behind the shelves but she didn’t seem to notice me. The girl’s head was still bowed as she sat on the nearest chair, with a resigned sigh. Her shoulders shook as she silently wept. She seemed to be as scared of the professor as she was of its consequences.
The nosy bastard in me sat on the chair across from her. In addition to that bold move, I also threw in an unwanted opinion, “A friend once told me that it was not a good idea to hold in your feelings.”
The girl jumped in her seat. I smirked. “He told me that the best way to achieve emotional relief is through the use of profane language. Shouting it would be more effective, he added.”
“W-What?”
“I’m Lucas, by the way. From the graduating class of 2015. You?”
She stared at my offered hand, seriously contemplating whether she’d take it or not. I didn’t really look like someone who could be trusted, huh? Did I come on too strong? I don’t think I did.
She reached for my hand, catching me off guard in its suddenness. “Tamara. Third year. But highly likely to be excluded from the graduating class of 2016.”
Her eyes were glassy as she said the words with a little laugh although she knew it was an empty humor. To me, she didn’t look like a stubborn student. She was leaning more on the timid side, giving me the impression that she couldn’t hurt a fly. What could she have done that made the professor too incensed for words?
She wiped her tears on her right sleeve and happily inquired, “Do you think it’ll work? Like your friend said?”
I nodded eagerly. “I tried it once, you know. I climbed up to the rooftop of this rusty school and shouted words that would probably make my mother want to scrub my mouth clean. I felt so much better afterwards, you know. Like every bad word that passed my lips were my personal demons that were finally set free.”
With a sideways look in her direction, I saw her eyes hardening as if she made a decision and there was no turning back.
“Want to try?” She looked up at me, towering over her as I stood up with a hand held out for her. Chivalry wasn’t dead, as long as I was still around, after all.
Without an ounce of hesitation in her tear-stricken face, she took my hand and let me lead the way.
-o-
“I’ve never been to the rooftop before.”
She ashamedly admitted when we reached the last staircase going up. She has pulled her hand from my hold and she busied herself by intently staring at her shuffling feet.
I groaned. “No one has been there before aside from me.”
“Really?” her eyes widened comically. Yes, most people have known about the existence of a rooftop but no one really dared to check if there really was such thing. I stumbled upon it while searching for a secret sleeping spot whenever I decide that I was too sleepy to attend classes. It was filled with moss and black garbage bags filled with week-old trash when I first discovered it. I thought it was a good hiding spot so I initiated cleaning it. The rooftop wasn’t the most perfect place for a rest but it had definitely improved ever since I first stepped on it.
I nodded. I pointed at a rickety ladder with a missing third step and said, “That’s the ladder that will lead you straight to a small door to the rooftop. When I discovered this place, there was no way up but to climb it using your limbs. I figured I don’t want to be bothered next time so I went in search for a leader. I thought this thing would do the job for the meantime. Brilliant, eh?”
She didn’t seem to think so as she scowled yet again. She was hesitant but with an assurance from yours truly, she clambered up sluggishly, shrieking when she forgot about the misplaced rung. I followed her, further ensuring that she was safe no matter what.
Going up took longer than I have expected. But the long wait was worth it when I heard her gasp.
“Wow.”
The rooftop might have looked like it had seen better days but the view was my favorite. Standing from this height made me realize how little every person in this blasted school was and how insignificant they seemed from a distance. It abated my ugly feelings about school and studying, knowing that as soon as I look down on them from the rooftop, they’d be smaller than I was. I related my realizations to Tamara.
“I see what you mean.”
I ambled up to her side and patted her shoulder, looking ahead. “Shout. As loud as you can.”
Once again, she shied away from my grasp whilst twiddling with her thumbs. “Well…you see…I don’t really…speak swear words.”
After a second of silence, I finally doubled up in laughter, clutching my stomach in absolute hysteria.
She didn’t look amused so I wiped the tears from my eyes brought by the hilarity of her statement.
“Seriously?”
She nodded once, earnestly. I held in a chortle.
“Why are you laughing? Is it so hard to believe that I can’t swear?”
“Yes. Because if you think about it, curse words, profanity and the like are just that: words. They might sound rude or unbecoming but they are also used to express intense emotions that you can’t seem to put into coherent sentences. With a simple fuck, you can mean a lot of words. Shit can be perceived as anything. For me, it’s a mere expression. Go ahead and try saying it. I promise that there will be no lightning bolts that will suddenly strike you. Your mother will not come running with a soap and sponge to wash your mouth with.” I held my left hand up and crossed my heart with my right.
She giggled at that.
Tamara sauntered until she reached the edge of the rooftop. She put both of her hands on each side of her mouth and bellowed with all her might, “FUUUUUUCK! SHIT! BASTAAAAAAARD! FUCKING HELL!”
More words, most I have not heard before in my life, came out of her lips. She was on a roll. After her continuous string of curse words, she was breathing hard like she just ran a mile. And maybe in her mind she did. She grinned brightly as tears flowed from her eyes, down her cheeks.
“What is this feeling called? I think I like it.”
“Lalochieza.”
She repeated the word, rolling it on her tongue, tasting and testing it. I knew then that the pain may still be lingering but at least some has been replaced with the adrenaline that came with trying something new.
I never got to ask her what happened between her and the professor but I didn’t attempt to. It wasn’t my business in the first place. I was just glad that I helped somehow in easing her worries of the inevitable future. Sure, she might get expelled. But she didn’t have to waste her life crying over it.
Sometimes, one just had to shout to the heavens and release all the pain.
-o-
“Thank you again, Lucas, for making me do that. It…has helped me a lot.”
We were standing by the gates of the school when she thanked me. I laughed off her gratitude.
“I wasn’t really helping you. I was just trying to be nice…in the worst way possible.”
“But still…thanks.”
I was already striding away by then so I just responded with a wave. Thank you. How foreign. I have never received such words in my life. On the other hand, I have never said those words to a person before.
(n.) the emotional relief gained from using abusive or profane language.
Sometimes, I zone out in the middle of the class.
With my head in my hands, I stared out of the window, twirling my pen with my fingers. I thought of the things I could do instead of staying stuck here inside this classroom. I thought of browsing the net, looking for new things that can rouse me from my current lethargic state. I thought of hanging out at the rooftop, as per usual, and smoking my last cigarette stick. I thought of sitting on the toilet in one of the cubicles of the restroom and doze off for a bit. There were so many things I can do right at this moment, yet I was here, slouching lazily on my chair, daydreaming about the end of this class while the professor’s voice continued its slow drone in the background.
I exhaled loudly after taking a deep breath. School sure was tiring.
“Mr. Santiago.”
The call for my attention was something I expected. As I have mentioned, I zone out sometimes. Professors tend to notice every time, though.
“Yes?”
I seemed to possess the ability to annoy people. Quite extraordinary, but I was proud of it. It was a rare talent that I planned to exhaust to an extent. The corners of my mouth pulled up at the sides, forming a smirk I was infamously known for.
The professor’s heels clacked loudly on the floor on his way to get to my chair. He stopped beside my feet with his eyes firmly trained on mine. He was our old and balding history teacher who I deemed to have aged in his job as an instructor. Our high school was one of the oldest in the country and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has been teaching here since it was founded.
That thought made me giggle. Consequently, the teacher leaned in closer to my face as if to inspect me in an uncomfortable distance. His face has turned a violent shade of puce that I nearly had to hold in another laugh. Instead, I muffled it with a hand.
“To be frank, Mr. Santiago, you have been getting into my nerves ever since we met on the first day of classes. One more act like this and I’d have you out of this classroom on your pathetic little bottom.”
I grabbed the bottom in question and scoffed, feigning offence. He shot me a feral grin that could rival my cunning smirk before he turned away to return to his lesson.
I have always felt his animosity for me, even on the very first day. He was a piece of work, wasn’t he? Out of all the teachers in this school, the seemingly oldest one had the absolute guts to match me and my words.
For his credit, I truly admired that.
As he bade the class goodbye, he threw a furtive glance my way and with a salute, he made his languid albeit confident exit.
With that kind of professor, I think I might start attending this class more, huh?
-o-
I was having a fitful sleep on one corner of the library when shouts intervened rather rudely. I thought this was supposed to be the most serene room in school. I scratched the back of my head in exasperation but there was another shout.
“I’M SORRY BUT I CAN’T DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”
The voice sounded familiar. But this time, it held some sort of anger or panic or fear: I wasn’t really sure. Curious, I crept in closer, hiding beneath shelves of thick books of the fiction section.
“But sir…I didn’t mean to…” the girl’s meek voice was shaking. In fear, perhaps.
A hand slammed down on the massive desk of the librarian, who was surprisingly absent. She always made sure to never leave her precious desk unattended. So why was it empty now? The girl jumped and gave a little shriek.
“You…you just can’t help yourself, can you? You can’t stop that mouth from spouting off lie after lie. And you think you can fool me?”
I sneaked a peek in between the books and saw a female student, bowing and cowering under the forefinger of a professor. I swore I saw the professor before but his back was to me and all I could see was the girl as she squirmed when the guy pounded his meaty fist on the surface of the wooden table for the second time.
“You will soon leave this school. Make that a promise.”
His voice held certainty carved in stone. His closed fists shook in front of the girl’s face, as if he was restraining himself from doing something rash. He might have done so, but he was suddenly reminded of his position in this institution. In the end, he decided to keep them by his side and proceeded to strode off the library, slamming the door behind him, the painful sound echoing inside the once again quiet room.
I emerged from behind the shelves but she didn’t seem to notice me. The girl’s head was still bowed as she sat on the nearest chair, with a resigned sigh. Her shoulders shook as she silently wept. She seemed to be as scared of the professor as she was of its consequences.
The nosy bastard in me sat on the chair across from her. In addition to that bold move, I also threw in an unwanted opinion, “A friend once told me that it was not a good idea to hold in your feelings.”
The girl jumped in her seat. I smirked. “He told me that the best way to achieve emotional relief is through the use of profane language. Shouting it would be more effective, he added.”
“W-What?”
“I’m Lucas, by the way. From the graduating class of 2015. You?”
She stared at my offered hand, seriously contemplating whether she’d take it or not. I didn’t really look like someone who could be trusted, huh? Did I come on too strong? I don’t think I did.
She reached for my hand, catching me off guard in its suddenness. “Tamara. Third year. But highly likely to be excluded from the graduating class of 2016.”
Her eyes were glassy as she said the words with a little laugh although she knew it was an empty humor. To me, she didn’t look like a stubborn student. She was leaning more on the timid side, giving me the impression that she couldn’t hurt a fly. What could she have done that made the professor too incensed for words?
She wiped her tears on her right sleeve and happily inquired, “Do you think it’ll work? Like your friend said?”
I nodded eagerly. “I tried it once, you know. I climbed up to the rooftop of this rusty school and shouted words that would probably make my mother want to scrub my mouth clean. I felt so much better afterwards, you know. Like every bad word that passed my lips were my personal demons that were finally set free.”
With a sideways look in her direction, I saw her eyes hardening as if she made a decision and there was no turning back.
“Want to try?” She looked up at me, towering over her as I stood up with a hand held out for her. Chivalry wasn’t dead, as long as I was still around, after all.
Without an ounce of hesitation in her tear-stricken face, she took my hand and let me lead the way.
-o-
“I’ve never been to the rooftop before.”
She ashamedly admitted when we reached the last staircase going up. She has pulled her hand from my hold and she busied herself by intently staring at her shuffling feet.
I groaned. “No one has been there before aside from me.”
“Really?” her eyes widened comically. Yes, most people have known about the existence of a rooftop but no one really dared to check if there really was such thing. I stumbled upon it while searching for a secret sleeping spot whenever I decide that I was too sleepy to attend classes. It was filled with moss and black garbage bags filled with week-old trash when I first discovered it. I thought it was a good hiding spot so I initiated cleaning it. The rooftop wasn’t the most perfect place for a rest but it had definitely improved ever since I first stepped on it.
I nodded. I pointed at a rickety ladder with a missing third step and said, “That’s the ladder that will lead you straight to a small door to the rooftop. When I discovered this place, there was no way up but to climb it using your limbs. I figured I don’t want to be bothered next time so I went in search for a leader. I thought this thing would do the job for the meantime. Brilliant, eh?”
She didn’t seem to think so as she scowled yet again. She was hesitant but with an assurance from yours truly, she clambered up sluggishly, shrieking when she forgot about the misplaced rung. I followed her, further ensuring that she was safe no matter what.
Going up took longer than I have expected. But the long wait was worth it when I heard her gasp.
“Wow.”
The rooftop might have looked like it had seen better days but the view was my favorite. Standing from this height made me realize how little every person in this blasted school was and how insignificant they seemed from a distance. It abated my ugly feelings about school and studying, knowing that as soon as I look down on them from the rooftop, they’d be smaller than I was. I related my realizations to Tamara.
“I see what you mean.”
I ambled up to her side and patted her shoulder, looking ahead. “Shout. As loud as you can.”
Once again, she shied away from my grasp whilst twiddling with her thumbs. “Well…you see…I don’t really…speak swear words.”
After a second of silence, I finally doubled up in laughter, clutching my stomach in absolute hysteria.
She didn’t look amused so I wiped the tears from my eyes brought by the hilarity of her statement.
“Seriously?”
She nodded once, earnestly. I held in a chortle.
“Why are you laughing? Is it so hard to believe that I can’t swear?”
“Yes. Because if you think about it, curse words, profanity and the like are just that: words. They might sound rude or unbecoming but they are also used to express intense emotions that you can’t seem to put into coherent sentences. With a simple fuck, you can mean a lot of words. Shit can be perceived as anything. For me, it’s a mere expression. Go ahead and try saying it. I promise that there will be no lightning bolts that will suddenly strike you. Your mother will not come running with a soap and sponge to wash your mouth with.” I held my left hand up and crossed my heart with my right.
She giggled at that.
Tamara sauntered until she reached the edge of the rooftop. She put both of her hands on each side of her mouth and bellowed with all her might, “FUUUUUUCK! SHIT! BASTAAAAAAARD! FUCKING HELL!”
More words, most I have not heard before in my life, came out of her lips. She was on a roll. After her continuous string of curse words, she was breathing hard like she just ran a mile. And maybe in her mind she did. She grinned brightly as tears flowed from her eyes, down her cheeks.
“What is this feeling called? I think I like it.”
“Lalochieza.”
She repeated the word, rolling it on her tongue, tasting and testing it. I knew then that the pain may still be lingering but at least some has been replaced with the adrenaline that came with trying something new.
I never got to ask her what happened between her and the professor but I didn’t attempt to. It wasn’t my business in the first place. I was just glad that I helped somehow in easing her worries of the inevitable future. Sure, she might get expelled. But she didn’t have to waste her life crying over it.
Sometimes, one just had to shout to the heavens and release all the pain.
-o-
“Thank you again, Lucas, for making me do that. It…has helped me a lot.”
We were standing by the gates of the school when she thanked me. I laughed off her gratitude.
“I wasn’t really helping you. I was just trying to be nice…in the worst way possible.”
“But still…thanks.”
I was already striding away by then so I just responded with a wave. Thank you. How foreign. I have never received such words in my life. On the other hand, I have never said those words to a person before.
