Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Friend (11/02/17)
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TITLE: The 'F' Word | Previous Challenge Entry
By Terry R A Eissfeldt
11/09/17 -
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“Man, what are you doin’,” He leaned against the lockers, sloughed his left foot over his right, crossed his arms and sighed.
My best friend: beatnik, hippie, hipster, and gangster. An enigma trying to fit somewhere, anywhere into the world of High School.
“She used the ‘f’ word!” I punched the locker door. Pain shot through my knuckles and landed on the funny bone. I wasn’t laughing.
“The ‘f’ word? Seriously? I’ve never heard Tammy so much as say ‘darn’…”
“Not that ‘f’ word…..I asked her to the dance. She thanked me, told me she already had a date, and I’m a good ‘friend’.”
Eric slung his arm over my shoulder, “I’m sorry man.” He dragged me off to Chemistry.
Tammy sat in the front row. Fresh faced, shining blue eyes, wearing a kilt type skirt and sweater. Her blond hair pulled up into a high pony tail swung back and forth like a shiny object a hypnotist used. I was definitely under it’s spell.
Bonny, the most popular girl in our class, was Tammy’s lab partner. Bonny wore tight jeans, a low cut t-shirt, and enough make-up to make one wonder why. She was always hanging with the football team, or basketball team, or who ever was the ‘it’ crowd of the minute. Now she was luring Tammy into the same crowd and away from me.
I looked down at my long feminine fingers. Good for classical piano, not good for grabbing footballs flung at jet speed. My check shirt, buttoned to the second last hole, and chino trousers didn’t help much. Yep, I was a loser.
Tammy and I had known each other our whole lives. Our parents were good friends. We attended the same church. But slowly the lines were being redrawn the deeper we got into High School. Now in Grade Ten, the half way marker, we were almost in completely different streams.
This was the first dance we wouldn’t be arriving at together. Not that we ever went as dates…we always went as friends. It used to be enough. But now the idea of being just a friend felt like a prison sentence.
Eric convinced me to go to the dance. It probably didn’t help our reputations arriving together. There were a few snickers and heads turned our way in the half-dark gymnasium. I tried to act casual but in fact I was jerking my head in every direction trying to catch a glimpse of Tammy.
She was in the middle of the dance area pony tail bouncing up and down to the beat of the music. I turned away quickly and headed for the door. Eric grabbed my shoulder just before I crossed into the lighted hall.
“Mike, man where ya goin’?”
“Home….did you see who Tammy is with?”
“No, man I was at the food table…good spread…”
“David Bartman…”
“The quarterback?”
“Yes, eighteen… star player…rich…class president…”
“I get it man…” Eric released his grip. I walked out.
I didn’t go home. I went to the piano room, entered my key code, and played Rachmaninoff till my hands screamed at me in cramps. It was ten-thirty.
I passed through the empty halls, the shuffling of my feet my only companion. As I headed toward the front door I heard voices coming from the reception area.
“No….wait….” slurred and unsure a girl sounded confused.
“Come on baby…have one more sip…” I knew that voice. His campaign speech was delivered in the same convincing tone.
“Uh…what are you doing…” panic was lifting from the fog. I knew that voice too.
I slowly pushed the secretary’s door open.
Tammy lay on the floor. Hair pulled down, top pulled up. Eyes hazy, mouth open.
David turned and glared.
“Get out of here.” Each word shot from his pistol mouth directly at me.
“No,” I pointed a long shaking index finger at him, “You get out.”
He stood up towering over me. I did the only thing I could. I pulled the fire alarm.
He ran out with superstar speed. I helped Tammy to unsteady feet and pulled her shirt down.
She looked at me eyes focusing briefly.
“Hey, friend.”
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Suggestions:
with puppy dog eyes, the usual sneer dividing his face.
the world of high school [no need to capitalize because it isn't a specific name].
Her blond hair, pulled up into a high pony tail, swung back and forth like a hypnotist's watch. I was...
He leaned against the lockers, sloughed his left foot over his right, crossed his arms and sighed. (I'm not sure that sloughed really makes sense here?)
I was caught up in this story and read it eagerly, keen to discover what would happen.
Thanks