"I Don't Like You" Chapter 3 "Clay"

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Clay

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Your silly words
I won't live inside your world
'Cause your punches and your names
All your jokes and stupid games
They don't work
No, they don't hurt
Watch them just go right through me
Because they mean nothing to me
I'm not clay.

“It looks like the storm passed us,” Frank said as he opened the car door. He held onto his backpack like he was balancing a glass sculpture inside.
“Yep.”
“Okay, today is the day I ask her,” he replied with a slight grin.
“Get in, you’re letting the heat get out.”
Frank sat down and closed the door as I started moving. The back roads were still snow-covered so I couldn’t drive as fast as I wanted to.
“I’ll step inside and ask her, but, before I do, I’m going to give her this.” He unzipped his backpack and took out a bouquet of roses. “I bought these last nights.”
“Does she like roses?”
“All girls like flowers.”
“Since it’s on your mind, I’d like a cactus. Maybe April will too.”
“Okay, I know I’m trying to play on her emotions, but that’s how dating works.” Frank replied as he painstakingly tried to put the flowers back without crushing any of the petals.
“To be as fake as you can?”
“I’m not being fake, Joanna. I’m acting the part. I…like April.”
“You like, or like, like?”
“That I don’t know. I just know she looks cute, and I like her smile and eyes. Can you tell me anything else about her? Does she like poetry? Does she have a favorite movie?”
“I really don’t know anything about her, Frank, except what you’ve just told me.” I replied as the wheels hit semi-dry road, so I accelerated.
“Do you think she looks cute?”
“Sure, I suppose.”
“Hey, I know that girl’s talk about other girls. Always giving tips and saying such and such looks good. If a guy ever told me I looked cute, I’d have to deck them.”
“Is that like a bro code thing?”
“Does she read any books?”
“Yes, I did see her intently reading this one book yesterday.”
“What was it?”
“Anderson’s Chemistry 201. I hear the plot’s very formulaic”
“Just for that, I’m going to nominate you for Winterfest royalty.”
“You do and I will slap you silly.”
“Ha,” Frank said with a snort. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Tonight, you, me, and the wooden swords.”
Five years earlier, Frank’s dad brought home two very heavy wooden swords. He never stated how he got them, and they were not very orated, but in the hands of two teenagers who had played way too much “Soul Caliber” at the arcade, the thought of being able to use some quasi-heavy duty sticks against each other was too good to pass up. However, after my transition, Frank never wanted to take me on again and I never wanted to place him on the spot…but on that morning, I wanted to see what he had, and I felt we could use the workout.
“Do you even remember how to use it?”
“You’ll find out.”
We arrived at the high school earlier than usual because I accelerated every time Frank said the name April.
“Do you know where to find her?” I asked as we walked to the building.
“Not exactly.”
“She has Algebra Two first period.”
“What does she have second?”
Frank opened the door and a blast of warm air hit us. The halls were pretty much empty.
“English. Just find her, walk her to her locker and get it over with.”
“I’m going to.”
“Now?”
“Yes, do you want to watch?”
“Let me go microwave some popcorn.” I replied as I walked to my locker.
Frank walked three feet ahead of me, stopped, and then looked back. “Richard, John, Jason, Monty and Eric.”
“What about them?”
“They’ll vote you in for Winterfest royalty.”
“Get the flowers out of the bag. I’ll put your backpack away.”
He took less than five seconds to whisk the roses out and tossed the empty backpack to me.
“Good luck. Seriously.”
“I got this,” he replied with a wink.

I waved him on and then went to gather my books. I kind of wanted to be a fly on the wall, to see how it would all end. Frank, to put it in a good way, was usually too abrasive or too esoteric for girls to understand. We used to talk about girls a lot, how they looked, dressed, and smelled. Even as sixth graders we kind of had an idea about how it all worked, plumbing-wise, but the thoughts and feelings were beyond us. I’d like to say that I sort had an idea, and that idea was what got me wondering who I was—how I didn’t feel like the person who looked back at me in the mirror. What I mean, is that after the day at the dance, our conversations changed. While there was a time that we talked about girls and talked about the future with what girl was topic du jour, it stopped being like that.
We would talk, but he seemed guarded and we no longer had deep sessions while playing basketball, at least for a few years, but then, one day he started asking me questions that he never would have asked in the past, about flowers and “girly” stuff, I suppose. I passed it off as a “boys”—complete with air quotes—and just allowed Frank to be Frank. Of course, as I stood in front of my locker that feeling of deep shame, that I knew April had a boyfriend back in Medical Lake, hung over me like a wraith. If I had told him then he would have said that”he’d see about that” or that he didn’t believe me and that maybe I wanted him to myself…which I would not have given the finger in return because then that would dig an even deeper rabbit hole. April would let him down gently, in a sincere way, and he’d be okay with it in public—and stay the stoic guy he was—until we were on our way home and I could then have him get it all out.
I regretted and also looked forward to that discussion as I got my books, closed my locker ad walked to Frank’s locker to see if he even had a notebook inside. I opened the door and took a short glance down the hall to see Frank walking in my direction. I took a step back, but didn’t look at him directly.
“How did it go?”
“Could I up the deal to three hundred? Dinner may be a little than I expected.”

"Clay" by Grace VanderWaal

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Comments

out of order

part 3 is placed before part 2. hugs!

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How so?

Aylesea Malcolm's picture

How so?

It never ceases to amaze me

Jill Jens's picture

When quality writers get thousands of reads, hundreds of kudos and no comments.
I am slowly going through your stories one by one. I like your style and your dialogue and your protagonist Joanna, who is trying to be honest with herself and her friend. Thanks for an enjoyable read. Looking forward to more.

Jill

Thank you very much.

Aylesea Malcolm's picture

Thank you very much.