The sun glistened in the distance, allowing fractures of light rays to dance over the almost empty classroom. I turn to face her behind me with the full intention, to be honest. I’d never been truly honest until listening to her talk about all the things she had done during her summer vacation. Everyone has fabricated lies before; I justify my need to be accepted with the generalization of the teenage social norm of lying. I want to tell her that ‘I’m a pretender, Emery I pretend that I’m am more than what I seem.’ But the words they just empty heavy breaths of fear of rejection.
Her smile is looking at me as if to assure me that whatever you say I’m by your side. Isn’t that the romantic aspect of youthful romance there’s this vulnerability of being able to discover who you are without feeling like an outcast. I smile back with a crooked smile that said I’ve got so much to say but have nowhere to begin as her hand pulls mine over her desk of wonderfully collaged art books.
I can feel her warmth ushering me for answers and notice. My throat clogged with so many things to be said that were trampled with fear. “Emery I lied.” The words slip like an inexperienced shooter letting the trigger slip. There I said it as the classroom began to fill up and the dancing light disappeared. I said it and our dream bubble explode into reality as her hand slipped away and the teachers voiced boomed for attention in the front.
Were we to leave it with those three words? The room hustling and bustling and we sitting in one direction, yet at total odds. Me in front and her behind. She was left behind with my truth bomb and confession. The moment etched in my mind, replaying over and over as we sat in complete chaos mentally and physically.