Sensual Politics

ten

picture: james' skateboard

10

ten

The minute hand on the clock seemed to be  glued to same spot for eons. The only indication that time moved forward was the painfully slow circular ticks of the second hand. The air around the classroom was stiff and dry, and James ached to snap open the window for some fresh air. Just as he was preparing to whisper to a kid beside him, the cacophonous sound of the bell rang through the school hallways, signaling the end of the day. And just like that, the air appeared to cool down, the students took long relieved sighs and James relaxed. He had already stuffed his belongings into his bag before, so he merely shot out the door and reached his locker.

He always found fragments of Betty in his locker, mocking at him, daring him to touch them; and they always took him by surprise. Little cards she made for him, a sheet of her assignment from previous semester, candies that they used to have during homeroom, even a few empty wrappers. He couldn't bring himself to discard any of it. With a heavy heart, he replaced the books with his skateboard and shut his locker.

Swinging his bag over his hunched shoulder, James passed through the remote corners of the hallway and avoided direct gazes. Over time, it had become easy to ignore the peripheral figures and focus on the front. He willed himself to quit caring what anyone said about him. He didn't even attempt to stop them from calling out names. He deserved it, after all.

He took a left, passing the homeroom and his pace dropped instinctively. He stole a longing glance inside the class and saw the seats they used to sit at.

Deserted.

Before a pang of hurt could hit him in heartstopping waves, he quickly strode forward and left the school. Settling his skateboard beneath his foot, he rode the light afternoon wind. His mind wandered through lost memories, but to no avail. They gravitated to Betty every single time. It had been over two months since they had that fight, the cruel night of the prom. He had expected to see her after the summer. It was the most natural thing in the world. But the rumours about him and August had swept through the school that put wildfire to shame, making it impossible for him to meet with her.

Plus, Betty made no attempts to contact him either. Rather, she had switched her homeroom to a different one. That first day of school, he had waited anxiously, his eyes on the door the whole time for when she would walk in. But she never did. Not that day, or any day after. Of course there could be other reasons, James didn't want to conclude his own assumptions, but after a few days, he knew it was because of him. That was the first time he realized the depth of his decisions, and how deep they had affected her. And he didn't like it one bit.

James knew what everyone said behind his back – some even to his face. That he cheated on her. But they didn't know what it was like with August. She was alluring and captivating, and James couldn't resist the sparkling aura around her, but it was only for the summer. Only to keep his mind sane, to keep himself level headed. He enjoyed the girl's company but they were no feelings involved whatsoever. He constantly thought about Betty, even when he slept in August's bed, even with his arms wrapped around her. He didn't dare talk about her but he thought about it all the same.

And back then, he didn't think his actions would have such dire consequences. He didn't think he would lose Betty. He can't afford to lose Betty.

So after that first day, when he realized Betty slipped out of his fingers, the guilt wrapped around him in such strong force that it suffocated him. He knew now, that cheating on her was the worst thing he had ever done. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to breathe. He wanted to talk to her.

And as if snapping back to reality, he looked around the street he had swerved to subconsciously. Like a muscle memory – in his control but not exactly. He stood on Betty's street, three blocks away from her house. He decided then and there that he would talk to her somehow. Her mother would open the door and she would let him in and then he could talk to Betty.

It was easy. He could do it.

James took a deep levelling breath and cautiously wheeled towards her house. It looked the same as it always did; but it was darker. Maybe he imagined it, but it felt sad. He roamed his eyes over her bedroom window, and just then a light flicked on inside. A faint shadow of a person could be seen behind the curtains and James' breath caught in his throat. He desperately watched the shadow moving around the room; and when it disappeared, he craned his neck to get a better glimpse of her. When she didn't return for over a minute, James started to fear that she might come out and see him. Now that he was standing in her doorway, he didn't quite know what to say. But he was here. Didn't that count for something? Didn't that show her that he still cared about her, that he wanted her back? That he was trying? Suddenly, he didn't like the idea of talking to her here, in the middle of the street, when his mind was such a tangled mess of broken thoughts. He didn't want that. He wasn't prepared enough, and it terrified him to the bone.

With shaking hands, he steadied his skateboard and left Betty's street, oblivious to the fact that she had been watching him.

~•~

Over the next week, James ravaged his head inside out, trying to come up with an explanation he could pour out to Betty in order for her to have him back. Or any approach he could carry for her to – at the least – agree to meet him. It was impossible during school, that much he understood. But even if he gets the chance, he didn't know what he could say to make her change her mind. That made him thinking, he didn't even know what was running through her mind.

Needless to say, another week passed by and he didn't succeed a least bit. Until one day in school, he overheard a group of girls talking about Betty's birthday party this weekend.

Betty's birthday. 28th of September.

The light bulbs in James' head flickered on and flashed brightly. He purposely lingered behind the said group and picked up on the conversation – learning the location and timings. It was at her house on the evening of her birthday. Apparently, she had only invited her close friends, and not the whole class, as usual high school rave-ups go. Typical of Betty to conduct a garden party, but that's just who she was.

James now had a motive and he carefully carried out the scene in his mind, imagining himself on her doorstep and every word he would say to her. He practiced in front of his mirror, before he went to sleep, after he woke up, sometimes daydreamed the scenarios during classes. He wondered what he would do if she would have him back – he wondered if she would even want him back. Because there was a sky-high possibility for her to shove him out the door and tell him to go fuck himself.

Or she could be the Betty he had always known, and she could invite him in, out of pity or compassion it wouldn't matter. She could curl her hands around his and lead him to her garden. He would tell her that the summer with August meant absolutely nothing and it was a stupid mistake; that even when he made out with her, he always dreamed about her. And he missed her. Lord, he missed her. And Betty would hear his heartful confession, and all her friends would urge her to forgive him.

And she would.

She would kiss him; kiss him like her broken wings were mended because of him, and he would hear the clapping and screaming of her stupid friends and it would be the best sound in the world because he would have her back. He was going to win her back. He had to.

Because the only thing he wanted to do now was to make it up to her.

So, on 28th of September, he showed up at her party.

~•~