Installment #3
You know its a game theyre playing, right? asked the British boy as they were waiting for their taxi to arrive. Its a game, and you have to play, too. You have to pretend it doesnt bother you. You have to know when your eyes are about to be red, then you have to swallow, breathe, look at me, and Ill give you a sign what to do next.
After the taxi arrived, and the British boy and American girl were in the car, the boys who shared their commute to the bus station were inside, prepared. They made fun of her hair, her clothes, her breath, and the fact that she had no friends. Since she had already heard these first few taunts before, she didnt feel her eyes getting red. Instead, in her mind, she was forming taunts of her own, but they were so nasty, she feared what would happen if she articulated them. And she, unlike the boys, actually cared whether they felt bad, even if they hated her.
But then things went nasty and personal. Her family was derided, her intelligence was questioned, and her strength began to collapse. Before she felt her eyes getting red, however, she felt a sneezy sensation in her nose, so she managed to avoid her eyes getting red, too.
As she felt weak, as her integrity was scissoring into a hundred pieces, she raised her eyes to find the British boys countenance in the rearview mirror, being reflected from where he sat next to the driver. His expression was such that she forgot instantly what had bruised her ego. It was a mixture of compassion, comedy, confusion, and a few other adjectives. Her soul was instantly put at ease. She turned to her contemporaries with such a face that, when their eyes met hers, they became silent. This was how the American girl stopped crying.
You know its a game theyre playing, right? asked the British boy as they were waiting for their taxi to arrive. Its a game, and you have to play, too. You have to pretend it doesnt bother you. You have to know when your eyes are about to be red, then you have to swallow, breathe, look at me, and Ill give you a sign what to do next.
After the taxi arrived, and the British boy and American girl were in the car, the boys who shared their commute to the bus station were inside, prepared. They made fun of her hair, her clothes, her breath, and the fact that she had no friends. Since she had already heard these first few taunts before, she didnt feel her eyes getting red. Instead, in her mind, she was forming taunts of her own, but they were so nasty, she feared what would happen if she articulated them. And she, unlike the boys, actually cared whether they felt bad, even if they hated her.
But then things went nasty and personal. Her family was derided, her intelligence was questioned, and her strength began to collapse. Before she felt her eyes getting red, however, she felt a sneezy sensation in her nose, so she managed to avoid her eyes getting red, too.
As she felt weak, as her integrity was scissoring into a hundred pieces, she raised her eyes to find the British boys countenance in the rearview mirror, being reflected from where he sat next to the driver. His expression was such that she forgot instantly what had bruised her ego. It was a mixture of compassion, comedy, confusion, and a few other adjectives. Her soul was instantly put at ease. She turned to her contemporaries with such a face that, when their eyes met hers, they became silent. This was how the American girl stopped crying.
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I thought you were writing about me. I am so selfish.