Sixteen

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It was third period... you know how I know? Because Foster was here, and so was the girl. The one he sold cigarettes with and fought with and then we went to the valley and saw beautiful things, that one. She was pretty. She was really pretty. The kind of pretty that you can't envy because it's really a blessing to witness. And so, I watched as her lashes blinked. And how Foster's lashes blinked. And how I knew that they were communicating in a strange way... 

He was in the seat next to me, paying me no mind at all. And then she was in the seat in front of me, and he was paying her a lot of mind. And then he leaned forward, his knuckles cluthing the front of the desk, leaning up just above her ear and I was still. I didn't move, nor speak. I wanted to hear what he said. I really did. But I couldn't. It was the lowest, huskiest whisper you've ever heard in your life. And she jumped a bit, and then she smirked. And then he smirked. And I felt completely and utterly terrible.

I felt miserable. I felt so miserable like my stomach was going to topple over and my throat was filled with rocks. I don't know why I felt like this. And then... the funniest thing happened. Although, it was more scary than funny. But it surely was odd. I saw spots and they were clouding my vision, tons of them all black and white. My legs gave out, and I felt so weak like I couldn't hold my head up. 

Then I got worried. Really worried and it got hot.

I lifted my hand, "Mr. Varlo," and spoke with the most metallic taste in my mouth. 

"Yes?"

"May I go to the nurse?"

"Well, why would that-"

And then, I couldn't hear his voice anymore. And then I couldn't see anymore either. And I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. And then... 


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