“London!” Ariel called as Spencer walked me into the gym. Spencer left my side to go into the locker room as Ariel came up to me. “Come sit with me, I’m right over here.” She led me up the tall steps on the bleachers and made room for me to sit on one of the uncomfortable benches. I could tell by the roar of conversations that the gymnasium was almost full. All around me, people talked loudly so their friends could hear them.
I turned my attention back to Ariel, who was telling me a story about a customer that came in today.
“And so I told him that we don’t serve pumpkin spice pancakes this time of year and he’s all like-”
“Really?” came an all-to-familiar voice from behind me, “That’s so interesting!”
“Shut up, Derek.” Ariel said, dryly. Derek: my ex.
“Hey, Ariel,” he said in a false-cheerful tone, “Where’s your fins?”
“Wow. You actually think you’re being original. Go crawl back into your hole.” Ariel was getting frustrated.
Derek laughed, “Hey, London, how are you doing?”
“Please leave me alone.” I said, trying to keep calm.
The crowd started to cheer. An announcer began to bellow the names of our basketball team over the speakers.
“I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you,” Derek pestered like a child. I could feel his finger just millimeters from my face.
“Hey, she told you to leave her alone!” Ariel demanded.
“Zip it, fish-girl.” He jabbed at Ariel, then turned his attention back to me, “You’re so pretty, London. It’s too bad that you’re so stupid. Are you sure that being blind isn’t your only disability? Are you sure that you aren’t retarded, too?” he laughed.
“Number 36 from the Blazers and number 48 from the Lions will start the game.” The announcer said, “…and the Lions start off the game with a beautiful shot! Lions-2, Blazers-0”
“Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run.” Derek sang into my ear, “They all ran after the farmer’s wife. She cut off their tails with a carving knife. Did you ever see such a sight in your life as three blind mice?”
“Derek, please.” I lowered my head.
“27 passes it to 18…he shoots…he scores a 3-pointer! The score is 5-0, Lions.”
The crowd around me roared.
“Please, what?” Derek put his arm around my shoulders, “Tell me.” He said in a tone that gave me chills.
“52 throws the ball and-ooh interception by number 66 of the Lions! He dribbles down the court…he wants to pass it to number 14, but 14 seems distracted by something going on in the stands. 66 throws the ball to 14, he misses and-oh! He takes an elbow to the face! Is he okay? He’s getting up…he’s okay folks! Number 14, Spencer Cabre, everybody. That’s going to hurt in the morning.”
“Stop.” I tried to say confidently, but my voice shook.
“Is everything okay over here?” I immediately recognized the voice. It was Mr. Hudson, my History teacher.
“Peachy,” Derek said innocently.
“Um, no,” Ariel butt in, “Derek is harassing us, Mr. Hudson. Would you please escort him elsewhere?”
“Harassing other students can get you suspended. You know that, right, Mr. Fender?”
“Of course! We’re having a lovely conversation. Isn’t that right, London?” Derek lied as he tightly squeezed my arm.
YOU ARE READING
The Color Blue
Teen FictionShe was one who didn’t judge a book by its cover; maybe it’s because she couldn’t. Blind since birth, London Cabre always relied on her brother to be the judge of people for her. She was scarred from her last boyfriend, misunderstood by her own fami...
