Hawthorne Heights [Editing]

three [edited]

Warren Greene Joseph

     "You can't tell me that Diego is better than Dora," I placed my backpack onto the lunch table. "That's like saying a moth is prettier than a butterfly. It's a lie."

Miracle rolled her onyx-colored eyes over at Milo, smirking knowingly due to my obsession with Dora. Everybody knew not to mess with me when it came to my bilingual queen, yet Miracle did it to get a rise from me. I knew nearly every single thing about that little girl; I lost sleep adding information to the Dora Wikia fan-page. My infatuation with the show started early considering my mom put a child-lock on every channel except for PBS, Disney, and Nickelodeon. Between watching the show about the octopus with the wiener dog, Dora, and playing math games on my computer, I had nothing to obsess over. So I chose Dora.

     "Big mad or little mad? I'm just stating a simple fact! Diego was so cute to me when I was little. He was saving monkeys and stuff. What did Dora do?" Miracle leaned across the table on her forearms so I could hear her over the loud conversations around us. "She didn't do nothin' besides make chocolate and complain about mud."

Milo scribbled down Miracle's math answers onto her own sheet and interjected, "Don't get me wrong, I love Diego, but all he did was swing on vines and talk to Alicia on his walkie-talkie."

The once rowdy cafeteria fell victim to tension and curiosity. Our debate dropped faster than loose curls in humid air once we all looked over to see the cause of everyone's silence. A boy with animosity masking his features advanced into the awe-filled room. Thick, pink lips rested above a sharp chin that had a small mole on it. A strong nose, full eyebrows, and morose eyes captivated my attention.

He looked as angry as the devil, as bright as the sun, and he wore it nicely.

     "That must be the boy that Harrison was talking about. Shoot, if he's gay I'm gay," I whispered over to Miracle and Milo.

Miracle ignored my comment and continued to stare at the boy—something that I was guilty of doing myself. It seemed like everyone in the room forgot to breathe the further the boy walked into the room. Color avoided his outfit: black jeans, a black hoodie, and black Converse All-Stars. His dead eyes skimmed around the room to find an empty table yet came up short.

Our school had a closed campus and closed cafeteria during lunch. No one would be permitted to leave the cramped space until the bell rang, meaning the loud noises that sounded out before the boy entered echoed off the blue concrete walls once again. The cafeteria was sectioned off unconsciously by the students, and only a few of them actually noticed the slight separation. The black students sat on one side while the white students sat on the other. A sprinkle of other ethnic groups found their way mingling with each side, yet the school was about one-third black, with us being the largest minority here. So obviously there wasn't a lot of color going around.

     "But you are gay, Warren!" Miracle exclaimed.

I glared at the fake cheese that covered the stale nacho chips before grumbling, "I don't understand why you had to yell."