Life Sucks

Chapter Seven: Perrsausse

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     Moving forward, Jessica wasn’t the only friend I made in Spanish class. There was also Cash; an attractive blonde male cheerleader whose biggest personality traits were “gay” and “drama”. I know it sounds very stereotypical, but it’s true. And Aneesa, an extremely pretty Mexican girl who was two years older than me, also in one of my choir classes, and best friends with some girls that I had major crushes on in middle school: Lived and Carrie.

     After a while, I gained a bit of a crush on Aneesa, too. She was gorgeous and extremely funny. And I always felt really happy when I was around her and her friend group. In fact, I desperately longed to be a part of that friend group.

    Said friend group was made up of Aneesa, Lived, Carrie, Matthew, Seleste, and Morgan. They were everything I had always wanted in a friend group. They made fun of each other all the time, but the love they had for each other was clear. And they were loyal to a fault. For the most part, at least. I didn’t really know Matthew, Seleste, and Morgan that well, but I knew that at least Matthew was extremely close with Aneesa and Lived, and that Morgan was pretty close with Aneesa and Seleste.

    Cash and Aneesa were friends, too, but he wasn’t a part of the friend group nor as close with her as anyone in the group was. As close as I longed to be; if not with her, then with someone, at least…

    Spanish had started to become pretty fun, getting to hang out with Jessi, Aneesa, and Cash. Being the second to last hour of the day, we would often recount whatever drama each of us had that day. It was nice. One of my favorite classes, for sure. I didn’t much mind Mrs. Caballero, either, despite the fact that Aneesa was constantly complaining about her.

    I also loved choir and math. I had two choir classes that year; Belle Voce and Concert Choir. Unlike freshman year when I was only in Blue Notes. My math teacher that year was Mr. Bradley who, I at some point learned, went to high school with my dad. I found this out when he was doing role call one day and saw my last name.

    “Perrsausse Becker-Jones?” He asked.

    “Here.” I raised my hand.

    “Wait. Are you related to a Jacob Becker, by chance?”

    “Yeah, that’s my dad.”

    “Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Your dad?”

    I knew why he was surprised; most thirty-year-olds don’t typically have children that are sophomores in high school. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m adopted.” I chuckled. I found it funny when people realize how old my parents would have been when they had me if I was their biological child.

    “Oh, okay. That makes sense. Well, I went to high school with your dad.”

    “Oh, cool.”

    “And congratulations on the adoption, by the way. I wasn’t aware that he had adopted a kid.”

    “Thanks,” was all I replied. I had suddenly become painfully aware that we were having this conversation in front of the entire class; that everyone’s eyes were on me. I just wanted it to be over so we could get back to class. I liked attention sometimes, sure, but not too much and not for too long of a time. And it was starting to become too much attention for too long. I felt my face redden slightly and was relieved when he got back on track and even more relieved when the class was over. Yes, I liked math, but—like I said—not too much of that for too long, either.
I didn’t like too much of nearly anything for too long. It was just how I was; how my brain worked. And it worsened when I thought too much about it. Everything worsened when I thought about it. Again, I didn’t like too much of anything for too long. Even thinking. My brain was my worst enemy; always has been, and will be. Until the day I die. And even after that, probably…

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