Why Are You So Angry? by Phil Vas
“No, no, no!” squawked Ms. Tuttle. “You’re just not getting it. The work is proficient enough but there’s no emotion. Where is the emotion, Laura?”
I dropped my charcoal and stared up at her like I was brain-dead. That always drove Tuttle nuts. She sighed a cloud of coffee breath and waddled off to the next easel.
“Don’t listen to her,” said the kid next to me. “It’s awesome.”
I was surprised he spoke to me. I mean, hardly anyone in that school ever said a word to me. Maybe that was because I was pierced and inked and only wore black. Or because my boyfriend Darrel got arrested a few times and they thought I was like him. Whatever. I didn’t want anything to do with those slut cheerleaders and date-rape jocks anyway. But I’d seen this kid around. He was different. He wasn’t a jock or a nerd and he didn’t dress a certain way just to fit in. He did his own thing.
“Yours is good, too,” I said.
“Not really,” he laughed, “but thanks for your sympathy.”
We talked for the rest of the period. Nothing special, just how crazy Ms. Tuttle was and how most everyone in that school was a total idiot. Jeff was pretty funny. We were both headed towards the cafeteria after class so we walked together down the hall. That’s when Darrel and his loser sidekick, Tanner, came up behind us. By the way, Tanner is also my little brother. Pathetic. I know.
“Hey asshole! What the hell you doing with my girl!”
“Nothing,” went Jeff. “Just walking.”
“Well you better start walking away before I shove my boot up your ass!”
Jeff held his ground as a crowd of kids formed around us. Him and Darrel were standing eye-to-eye when I spotted the guard. I whispered in Darrel’s ear, “Corbitt’s coming. You don’t wanna mess up your probation.”
“Catch you with my girl again,” he told Jeff, “and you’ll be sorry.”
Then we broke out.
We were in my room doing bong-hits when he started in on me.
“So that’s your new boyfriend? That’s who you’re gonna dump me for?”
I took a hit. “Please. We were just talking.”
“Sure,” he mocked, “just talking.”
“Look, I’m not getting into this now,” I said.
Darrel slid up against me. I guess he felt threatened by Jeff. He was so insecure. We messed around a while and then he wanted to do it. I didn’t feel like it, but I got tired of hearing him beg. It was so boring. I made him turn up the radio so I at least had something to do while he screwed me.
Neither of us heard the door.
“GET OUT!” my mother screamed.
I tried to escape with Darrel but she wasn’t having it.
“So this is what you do. This is what you do!”
I shrugged.
“Why aren’t you in school?”
“Left,” I said.
“You left. That’s nice. Maybe I should leave, too.”
“Go ahead. See if I care.”
“Oh, Laura,” she sighed, “why are you so angry?”
That night I locked myself in my room and worked on a self-portrait. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jeff. About his voice and the funny things he said and how he parted his hair down the middle. Corny stuff. I don’t know why.
Next day after class we had lunch together in the cafeteria.
“I’m telling you,” he said, “if there’s ever a nuclear war and you need food, come here. These hamburgers are gonna last forever.”
“Yeah, I heard they serve stuff that takes a long time to digest so we don’t get all hungry and distracted in class.”
He took a bite. “Sometimes it’s like my body is using all its energy just to break down my lunch. I even passed out once in gym.”
As I laughed I saw Darrel and Tanner. They were lurking outside the cafeteria doors, watching us.
“Don’t worry,” went Jeff. “I’m not afraid of them.”
“I know, but….”
“Look, I’m a ninth-degree black belt. I can take care of myself.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” he smiled, “I spar with Jackie Chan all the time.”
Then they were gone. I didn’t see them again for the rest of the day. I figured they were back at my house, smoking my weed. Losers.
After school there was a crowd around my bus stop. Another fight. I expected to find two jocks knocking their heads together like mountain goats on the Discovery Channel. Instead I saw Darrel and my brother. They were kicking someone.
I fought my way to the front and saw him curled up on the ground. They kicked and kicked, and all Jeff could do was try and protect his head. I wanted to scream, to throw myself between them….
Sirens. The cops grabbed Darrel and Tanner, and some EMT’s rolled Jeff into the ambulance. The guard, Corbitt, was with them.
He kneeled before me and spoke real low. “Laura, what happened?”
Everyone was quiet.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and repeated the question.
“We were just talking!” I snapped.
Then my bus arrived. I ran on board, to the back, away from all the windows. Two blocks later I brought an old Kleenex to my eye.
The bell rang, the faces changed. Past parks and playgrounds, Starbucks and Safeways, I waited. The whole way home, I waited….
Whatever. Tears are so overrated.
Phil lives in Seattle. His website is www.philvas.com
