I had woken up to my younger brother flashing my phone flashlight in my face while chanting "Lord Jesus Christ, Son Of God, have mercy on me" as loud as he could. Thankfully, he wasn't loud enough to get yelled at by my father, but loud.
"Jonah, get off of me!" I said groggily. Jonah paused and turned off the phone's flashlight.
Jonah set my phone besides me before tapping my forehead with his index finger. "I'm not on you stupid, I'm next to you." He paused and smiled. "But yesterday I was on you."
I groan silently and sit up, wearing my favorite black tank top and green shorts that are too comfortable to wear one day a week.
Jonah giggled his adorable little brother giggle and walked out of my room. Jonah is only twelve years old, but is short and immature at times. I am 17 years young, in a Christian family containing two younger siblings besides me, Jonah and Ruth. My father got to choose their names, and in a weird way they turned out like him.
"Yuri! Come get your breakfast!" My little sister yells as I step out of bed.
"I'm coming Ruth!" I yell back, grabbing my plain red sweatshirt and throwing it on.
As I made my way through the piles of dirty laundry I never dare to wash, I smiled to myself as my mind drifts to the abyss. My name is Yuri Christiane, the name Yuri picked by my mother. I have her amethyst eyes and blonde hair thin as silk. My skinny form is also thanks to my mother, but the only thing out of place with normal bodies that look like this are big cahooters that scream some sort of female identification to males.
I check myself in the full length mirror behind my door, giving one last "okay" to my Christmas attire before heading out of my room. I walk out into the hallway and immediately I am cornered by a looming mannequin that is staring at me in front of my door. The shadows along the wood gives a face to the inanimate object, nearly furrowing its brows in disgust.
"FUC-" I yell, startled by the dull doll appearance and position. I didn't even finish yelling when my father piped in.
"No swearing in a Christian household!" Dad retaliated, earning a few chuckles from Jonah.
"Har har." I say sarcastically. I pushed the mannequin aside and travel my way down the stairs.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Ruth was waiting in the hallway beside the kitchen door. With her emerald eyes in a smile contradicting her scolding face, you would have to refrain yourself from laughing hysterically at the sixteen year old ahead. Ruth's long brown hair was tied in a tight bun. In her hand, she held out a paper bag with "Yuri" sprawled out in cursive.
"Yuri," Ruth started, playing coy with her sweet words. "Not only is it not Christmas, but school starts in 45 minutes." With her right hand, she motions to my clothing choice. "You sure?"
I didn't hesitate. "Ye," I said.
Ruth retaliated. "Ne." With the one consonant, Ruth smiled. "I am not going to school with a brother who wears green shorts and his casual Christmas red sweater. Especially since I care."
"Care about your image?" I joked.
"Care about your life." Ruth said, using her free hand to push me up the stairs. I didn't struggle, only complied when being pushed and shoved into my room by my younger sister.
After fixing myself into not as nearly comfortable jeans, I trudge back downstairs to Ruth. Ruth wasn't in the hallway, so I headed towards the kitchen. As I put my hand on the handle, my father opened the door instead.
"Whoa kiddo," Dad said backing up. "Good morning to you too."
I smiled. Dad's new suit fit him handsomely while the tie sprawled about, untied. Dad's new job, yet promising, still requires him to wear a tie.
"Good morning Dad," I moved out of my way as I spoke. "Shouldn't Ruth tie that?"
Dad looked down at the tie and chuckled. "I guess she should Yuri." With that, Dad pushed the kitchen door and headed in, me following close behind.
Inside the kitchen, Ruth sat on the counter with a pencil in her hand. The aroma of the kitchen, eggs and brunt toast, whiffed across the room as I took in the scene before me. Besides Ruth, Jonah started off on a rant about "memes" and their contributions to society. Ruth kept rolling her eyes and focused on the paper in front of her.
Dad walked up to Ruth while I walked to get my lunch off the kitchen table. Ruth didn't notice Dad walk up to her, or anything near distracting. Dad coughed, loud. Almost as loud if Jonah would have started to chant. Ruth, however, continued to not only ignore Jonah (who has completely stopped talking in the presence of Dad), but even if I threw her whole makeup bag it wouldn't be nearly enough to catch her attention from the air. Dad gave one final cough as I grabbed my lunch and stared at the scene.
With no reply, Dad's playful yet harsh tone appeared. "So, you're going to ignore your old man?"
This finally caught Ruth's attention, as she caught the shit she was in and looked up from the page of words and scribbles. Most likely math.
It took Ruth about 30 seconds to process Dad and his tie. During the 30 seconds she was stammering for words, I got my red backpack, put my lunch inside, and waited in the doorway.
"Dad!" Ruth exclaimed, a bit surprised. "Oh jeez, what happened to your beautiful tie? It was perfect before." Ruth gave Dad a skeptical look. "Why did you mess up my tie? I made it work and tied it correctly."
Dad shrugged. "You know I hate ties. Especially suits."
Ruth finished tying the tie she called beautiful and silky, soon after going out the door with me. We waved goodbye to Jonah and Dad, making sure to remind Jonah that he has to leave on time like the good siblings we are. I closed the door, Ruth trudging on past Dad's car and opening the passenger door to her Honda Civic SDN from 1996.
"Hop on in." She says, twirling her car keys around her finger before closing the door.
I sigh and get in the driver's seat of her car. Ruth tosses me her keys before buckling up and putting her feet on the dashboard.
I turn the ignition on and grumble a complaint as trashy pop music comes on. "Do we really have to listen to this?"
"Of course!" Ruth said, with a playful tone in her voice. She put her hand over her heart in exaggeration. "Who else is gonna save me from my problems like Ariana Grande."
"Well, I find that Third Eye Blind has pain and sorrow mixed in with good times pretty well correlated." I said as I pulled out of the driveway.
My sister held out her tongue in disgust. "Why would I listen to edgy rock?" Ruth gave out into a smile noticeable in her voice. "Besides, this is my car, my rules."
"I still don't see why we can't take my method of transportation." I complain, taking a right out of the neighborhood.
"Well excuse me if I don't want to die a virgin by a motorcycle a man like yourself can't even drive." Ruth said.
"How about this," I shifted in my seat. "I promise that I, Yuri Christiane, will not kill you or your virginity by a motorcycle I can drive."
"You cannot drive that thing!" Ruth complains. "Remember the time you nearly scratched your arm when you were little riding a bike? Same thing. Only faster and dangerous."
I have about twenty reasons why that wouldn't be an argument, but I'll stick with a summary. "That was back when I had vertigo, right? Even if I'm wrong, I had no balance back then." Ruth started to say something random but I cut her off. "Now, however, I have ridden my motorcycle more times than I can count and never got a scratch."
We finally got to Roadster High School's parking lot, after a lot of trashy singing and arguing. I parked in a spot near the entrance, got out with my backpack, and tossed the keys back to Ruth.
I turned my back and started to walk towards the entrance before I was stopped by Ruth. We still had a good 20 minutes before classes start at 7:25, so I turned to see what was up.
"Hey Yuri!" Ruth yells as she throws her keys in my direction. Before I can duck, the metal car keys hit me in the face. As instant pain throbs through me, I caught the keys from my face and tried really hard to speak.
"Why?" I asked, holding my other hand to my face.
It took me a while to register what she said, but I did manage to figure it out. "You should hold onto them, I'll most likely lose them."
Ruth and I headed towards the front office. Before she opened the doors to join her trashy friends, I had to ask a question. "Why do I have to drive your car?"
Ruth paused before turning to me in a smile. "Only Juniors and Seniors can park in the parking lot." Off she went, towards the girls bathroom in all its glory and wonder, to do her makeup.
I wanted to chase after her. To shake her continuously until she told me to stop. I wanted to ride my motorcycle to school. I do like the company of my Ruth, but her car is not my car. However, my Triumph Bonneville T100 is the way to go. With the black exterior and the easy to control handling, I absolutely love the thing.
I have 20 minutes to kill. Twenty full-fledged minutes to do nothing until my friends arrive just seconds before you're casted out into the sea of children, mostly toddlers. What I normally do to pass the time is practically do everything to not be bored. Most days, I examine the broken claw machine that sat here for over decades and picture the worst not-even-humane people of my school at least try to win something. Alas, what is there to win? What's left behind of the claw machine is spoiled candy and stuff animals with clotted stuffing.
Today, however it may seem, was special for a reason I could not pinpoint why. As I examined the school, boredom seeping into my skull, I noticed something peculiar. The school, as it is, is decked out in its school colors. Not that it isn't, but today it seemed a bit too extra, more than usual, an extreme take. Whatever you took it as, that's what it is.
I looked around more, an eyebrow raised and a more puzzled look across my face. I take a look in the lobby, right near the main entrance, and above was a yellow paper banner with red streamers and purple balloons. Our school's colors. I wasn't in a position to read the yellow banner with red and purple paint on it, considering that I was behind the banner and possibly for the better. I took a few steps, carefully avoiding balloons and streamers, to face the front of the banner.
"Holy fuck." I made an inaudible whisper.
On the banner, the thing was decked out in colors. Purple here. Red there. Maybe a dash of the horrible honey mustard yellow that is disgusting. However, the most concerning part of this banner was not the clash and color scheme, or the honey mustard yellow, but who it was addressed to. In big, bold, black letters the runny paint makes out a hard-to-read hello, and the name Connor Misiona.
I felt terribly sorry for this kid, whose name sounds almost angelic in the wrong place. As I stood, waiting, the minutes slowly ticked down and more kids were coming. My superiors. My equals. My ass.
I hear kids whispering as I come back from the lobby unnoticed. They weren't whispering about me, but more about the school acting up as if the goddamn president himself was coming here. I continue my way, taking notice of the clock as I pass by.
7:15, that must mean-
Right on cue, I hear someone yelling and someone screaming my name from the other side of the large room.
My friends, mainly James, came rushing in, through the crowd of toddlers, in front of me. Gabe and Jackel were following James, apologizing to every person James had pushed trying to get to me.
"Hey James." I acknowledge James first, then turn to the other two. "Hey Gabe and Jackel."
"Hey Yuri." Gabe says, giving me a high five.
"Yo Yuri," Jackel starts. "Did you hear that something's happening today?"
I turn to Jackel and tilt my head. "What do you mean?" I point to all the decorations. "You mean all of this presidentially adequate bullshit?"
Jackel nods his head while James smiled. The staff blew a whistle signaling that we have to get to class in five minutes, meaning Gabe, Jackel, James, and I would have to speed up this conversation until this afternoon, where all our classes together are.
"Well guess what?" I yell over the sea. The others replied with a yelled "what" to compensate our hearing abilities. "I know who this is all for!"
"Who?" I hear Gabe yell.
"Well," I yell. Our chain of a group was getting weaker with each passing tide. "It's for a guy named Connor!" I manage to yell. The only problem is that they may or may not have heard me, with all the other kids screaming and yelling against us.
I get to my locker by force, putting everything except my binder in the locker and heading upstairs to first period, which only lasts for 55 minutes.
When I get to first period, I see a swarm near the door. Are you kidding me? I push my way through the crowd, only to get pushed and shoved back. I nearly made it to the classroom door when I was tripped from behind.
I expected to fall. I was waiting for the throbbing pain that would come from my face. It never came. Instead, I was stopped halfway from the ground by a pair of hands. I rearranged myself until I was standing again, only to be faced with someone I have never seen before. He had long black hair, surprisingly green eyes, and was smiling at me.
"Hi. I'm Connor." He said. He extended his hand towards mine.
This was the Connor from earlier on the banner, right? I took the hand and shook it once. Twice. "I'm Yuri." I said, looking at his eyes.
Connor smiled and let go of my hand as the bell rang. "Let's sit together, okay?"
I had no arguement, or care, so I said sure. As we sat in our desks, the teacher came into the classroom, introducing Connor Misiona to the world of the classroom and turning to teach first period.
Comments (0)See all