Tim McIlrath
boy × girl
imagine
Blake P.O.V.:
Tim McIlrath was a fuc.kboy. Was being the key word here. He knew where he sat on the social ladder, and he knew where everyone else sat as well. In elementary school, he used to be teased for his multicolor eyes. I guess when we grew up and realized how rare they were, girls started melting for them. It was all very frustrating at first. He rode his popularity like a king in his castle.
Me on the other hand? I was the radical green girl. I bet most of the kids in school didn't even know my name. I was just green girl. Green, greener, greeny. Whatever, I'm sure I could be called worse.
See, I was actually aware of political and social problems we faced? Sue me. I wasn't sensitive about all these problems, but I did let people know when they were overstepping their boundaries.
I went to a mostly white school, which posed a problem. I had brown sugar skin with little freckles, silky Latin hair bouncing with curls. I stood out so I guess I was kind of asking for an outcast status.
I guess it started one day in math class. See, our teacher often left our class to make copies, get coffee, and chat with other teachers in the hallway. It just so happened that the topic of discussion that day was our current war. Usually I just let them all babble on like the drones they are, but today I just couldn't get their incessant chatter out of my mind.
So, naturally, I exploded with facts and sources and a healthy dose of reality for these common white sheep. Tim was the most outspoken of the class and debated with me until I had, had it with him.
"You know, you're exactly like everyone else! Just like every other heterosexual, protestant, white male. You're going to be just one of the million billion other humans that have lived and make no impact whatsoever." I finally finished. The rest of the class laughed, but Tim seemed shaken by my words. Good. He should be.
---
I had left school early after that. I decided maybe the American school system wasn't for me today. So I left, deciding to walk. I lived in the worst part of Chicago. I'm surprised my siblings and I have lived this long without shooting or being shot, so I wasn't afraid of walking to the nearest park.
I was, however, slightly shocked to see I had been followed.
"Hey, Green, wait up." Tim had followed me.
"I have a name." I didn't wait.
"Uh-Blair?" He tried, and I rolled my eyes, continuing on. "Blane?"
"Nope." I sighed from exhaustion and sped up.
"Blake! Blake! Your name is Blake." He sounded very proud of himself, so I couldn't help but let sarcasm leak into my voice.
"Ding ding ding! We've got a winner, folks!" I turned around crossing my arms over my Black Flag shirt. I'd take off my button up for the day, so I was just in my sleeveless band shirt, khakis and vans. "What do you want?"
"You like Black Flag?" He questioned. I rolled my eyes, grabbing a tied off hair tie from my wrist and tugging my mass of long dark springs into a ponytail
"Yeah, of course I like Black Flag. Why? Do you?" I looked him over curiously.
"Yeah, for sure. None of my friends like punk, though." He lifted a shoulder.
"You know what punk is about right?" I asked incredulously.
"Uh..anger?" He spluttered.
"Yes, anger about what?" I made him think. It was like spoon feeding him.
