Asylum

Stalking Not Gawking

Leo Hernandez

I met Sarah Lewinski in the courtyard after my dinner cooking shift. She dressed in a spaghetti strap floral sundress with a long sleeve jean jacket. Let's just say that words can't express how happy I am that I'm the one who can read minds. I find Sarah really, really, really pretty. I know she has scars all over her body that she hates, but every single one of them is a part of her that I like.

But alas...sigh...teenage angst – Sarah just looks at me as a best friend. Of course, she's my best friend, too, but I want to be more than that. I want to trace my fingers over the scars and promise her that they make her more beautiful, while she wants to paint the new hot guy and listen to me tell jokes. It's like a knife to the gut.

I came here straight after my shift, so like a lot of my shirts, this one is stained. For pants, I wear jeans with suspenders because who doesn't love suspenders? I tried to smooth my hair down and tame the beast, but that's like trying to make the blanket that's a tad too small cover your toes. Im-poss-i-ble.

I wish I were more physically appealing. Everyone thinks I'm confident and secure with myself because I'm the loud guy in the room cracking boisterous jokes, but that's so far from the truth. That's farther than...well, I don't have a comparison, but believe me it's far. I've got this crazy hair, a super skinny body, I'm not all that tall, and there's not an ounce of muscle on my bones. The manliest thing about me is the spine marking because it looks like a badass tattoo.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to show," Sarah admits, slightly smiling with light pink lips and lavender eyes that can put you in a trance.

"I'd never bail on you," I promise. When I first met Sarah, I read her mind. A lot. What can I say? I liked her so why wouldn't I use the shortcut and find out her interests? But I slipped and disclosed something about herself that she hadn't told me yet, and she made me vow not to ever read her mind. And like a good friend, I never did. Sometimes I wish I wasn't such a good person, because I would've loved to pick up her thoughts when she painted the Dragon.

Did she like his height or his rugged look? Did she find his muscles enticing?

To me, the kid looks like a sewer rat, but my opinion may or may not be slightly biased...

"So where are we going?" Sarah inquires as a breeze tosses her cream-colored hair to the side.

"Well, I saw Kya and the Dragon getting heated in the lunchroom. I don't know what about, but if she's still watching him, I'm sure they're quite the site to see."

"So, you want to follow them around all night and gawk at them?" Sarah dubiously inquires, propping a hand on her hip and cocking her head to the side.

"Stalking, not gawking. I'm not a fanboy, Lewinski. Geez, you've gotta keep up on your slang terminology."

Sarah and I head inside and take the elevator down two floors to the level with shops and movie theaters and such. We stop by a candy shop to snack while we walk. Like a true gentleman, I pay for both of us.

The cashier is a woman I don't know very well, but I've seen her around. She's pretty nice. However, I've never had an actual conver –

"Wow why would a pretty girl like her go out with a stain-monkey like him?" I blurt out, reading her mind. Stupid turrets. I've got them physically under control, just not verbally. "Hey," I call to the cashier, who is gaping. "That is rude and uncalled for. I prefer stain-orangutan, thank you very much." With Sarah at my side, I ask her, "Can you believe these people? Geezum."