James Mandarin

Little Talks

"How's your dad going?"

I shrug my shoulders. "He's not dead."

Hollie smiles at my joke. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing." I don't reply. Hollie shuffles her feet on the grass for a few moments before sitting down beside me. "Are you okay, James?"

I nod my head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just look... different."

"How are things with you and Zen going?"

Hollie blushes and tilts her head a little bit. She flashes again and cracks her knuckles. I can feel the excitement bubbling up inside her, like a shaken bottle full of Coca Cola. "It's good. Zen is amazing. He loves manga, anime..."

"Hentai?" I suggest.

Hollie gasps and frowns. "James! Do you know what that is?"

"Pictures?"

"It's porn, James."

"Oh." I've never watched porn before.

Actually, this is very awkward. It reminds of the time dad decided to talk to me about sex. It was awkward as hell. He even showed me a condom. It was too late by then. What was seen could not be unseen.

I want to fall into a hole and die.

"Well, what are you doing this weekend?" Hollie quickly asks, in an attempt to change the subject. I'm suddenly cold.

"I'm spending it with Chloe."

"Chloe," Hollie stops to think. "You mean that girl you always hang out with it."

The corner of my lip curves into a smile. So, it turns out Hollie had been listening to the little monologues I've been having to myself regarding Chloe.

"Yeah, she's the one."

"Is she with anyone?"

"No."

"Does anyone else like her? Like, like, like her?"

"No."

Hollie squeezes my shoulder. "You have an opportunity, James. Take it." Without saying another word, she stands up and leaves, her red hair swaying behind her and Chloe's face on my mind.

* * *

The room is tidy and my clothes have been rearranged in my drawer. I drop my school bag on the floor and remove my shirt. I smell of people; of books; of perfume; of sweat; of tests; of heat and exhaustion.

I smell of school.

I smell of the lonely eyes daring to be free; the caged ones; the dying ones and the happy ones.

I smell of people.

I want to throw myself upon my bed, close my eyes and drift off into the beautiful delirium of my mind. Instead I waddle to the bathroom and look at the blue tiles, the wall and the overhead light. My heart pounds as I reach out to open the cupboard. Razor lies on the shelf, glistening brightly in the golden light. I've missed Razor. I've missed my friend.

I pick her up and sit on the floor. I tell her of my father and my problems. I tell of how much I hate school and the cheap diamond ring mother wore. I also tell Razor of cherry lipstick. It takes a pretty woman with cherry lipstick to lie.

I tell Razor of how much I've missed her.

Then the cycle begins once again.