My Artificial Heart (3)
To be honest I had practiced that line from my flash cards. Finally the pre-written flash cards were coming back to me. I recited my next line, glaring back into his eyes-which took a lot of effort. "Trissa’s not a house you know, you don't own her. Why don't you just get the fuck away from me," I put in a variable here judging by how tall or short the boyfriend was, "Steroid boy." Ok, so maybe it was pretty unoriginal but that's what I had written down. Unfortunately I never had self-defense written on them, a solid punch to the stomach and I dropped with a very unmanly whail. As if I hadn't been beating up enough today, I fell to the floor gasping for air. "You fucking prick. You gotta leave my girl alone, do you know how much Trissa hates it when you're around her? How'd you like to have some freak stalking you around all day? Huh?" That's right, pour on the rhetorical questions while I couldn't even breathe. I bet it was a real confidence boost for him, I bet he felt pretty powerful. "Why don't you grow some balls? Why can't you fight a man instead of picking on her all the time? You fucking pussy." He grabbed my backpack and dumped all of its contents to the floor. My scrapbook seemed to catch his attention. He wrenched it from the floor with his messy football greased hands. A sudden urge to kill coursed through my veins, he had laid hands on my holy Bible, my testament of faith to Trissa! He picked it up carelessly, with so much disregard it made me sick. I would've killed him if I could get up, but he hit me pretty damn hard, the pain had me stunned. I laughed at myself, always making excuses. "You, dumb ass." I tried to say between gasps for air. I could hear him turning the pages to the book, as he cussed out his disgust. "Let go of my book," I reached into my jacket and placed my hand on my switchblade, a gift my dad gave me for my 16th birthday. My head spun with rage, I argued whether I should use it or not. I had enough strength in me to lunge at him quickly; it would only take a quick swipe to slit his throat. But that was murder; I loved Trissa, so much that I would kill for her. But Tray was her boyfriend now. Being a murderer was a big turn off too. Murdering Trissa's own boyfriend wouldn't help things out either. Maybe this was her way of telling me she didn't like me very much. I quickly shook the thought out of my head. I'm a weak son of a bitch; I didn't have the balls to use my knife. That was the real reason. The thought echoed through my mind, taunting me, laughing at me as I laid there on the floor gasping for air. Just like Tray did as he turned the pages of my scrapbook. I was overcome by a wave of disgrace. I was drowned in the freezing waters of defeat. I sought desperately to pull myself out. Using the knife would remove that shame, I would be victorious, and I would prove that I was a man for once. Such a simple action of slitting his throat would prove my devotion to Trissa. Then why didn't I do it? Was I really that much of a wuss? I placed the knife back into my jacket. I guess I was... He threw the heavy scrapbook at my head; it bounced off and skidded across the gravel in front of me, mangled and bent, its pages smeared with the dirt and dust from the ground. He had ruined my shrine to Trissa; he had to die for it. I wanted to kill him so bad, but I couldn't. "You stay away from her you son of a bitch, I don't want you to ever look at her or go near her again. I want you to sign yourself off that play today! Do you got that?" Finally a direct question. "No." I saw a situation like this in a movie once, that's what the guy said just after he got a swift kick to the stomach. "You bastard!" The steel toed Doc Martin's that Tray wore rammed into my side, another bout of excruciating pain, yup, just like in the movies. "I got it..." The guy said that too, and it stopped the beating. I hoped it would work for me too. "Good, don't make me do this again." He ended his sentence with a final kick to my side; he had gotten his point across that was for sure. I watched his shadow slowly round the corner of the gym, my face still pressed up against the dusty smelling gravel. Small piercing pebbles stuck to my face, but I made no effort to brush them off. I made no effort to get up. I simply placed my head back against the cold gravel. I lied there, just listening. The distant constant brushing of the cars on the freeway, the fluttering of a pigeon's wings, and the now alien chattering at the lunch tables. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful, like the mountain that I had wished to be on just moments ago. I closed my eyes and wanted to fall asleep, but the pain in my gut wouldn't let me. I once read that failure is falling down and not getting back up again. If this was failiure, it wasn't too bad, no pain, no worries, I could lay down here forever. "What now?" I muttered, a small pebble fell off my lips as I spoke. I pressed my forehead against the gravel. After I was able to breathe again I crawled over to my scrapbook. I tried to straighten out the pages, one page had been ripped in half, and another that had a close up of Trissa’s eyes was smeared with gravel. I shuddered in rage. I turned the page to check if any other damage was done, I nearly choked the moment I saw the picture of Trissa and I at the carnival cut in two. "Murderer!" I wailed out to an empty audience. The cold blade of reality stuck deep into me. I did nothing, I allowed him to destroy my temple to Trissa. I tried to fix the book up as much as I could, making more excuses as I tried to repair the sacred images. That same day I went to the drama room and signed myself off of the play, like a scared dog I fled away from there as quickly as possible, my ruined scrapbook in hand. I walked to the bus bench and sat down defeated... Chapter 4: Not everyone comes out a winner... Wins: 0 Losses: 1,214,139 Law of probabilities, please help me. That wasn't the only time I would screw myself up. I remembered the exact day, because it happened on my birthday. To me my birthday was never anything special compared to Trissa's birthday. I didn't like to celebrate the day of my own birth because that would be selfish, and Trissa didn't like selfish men. My birthday was on June 1st, the same day of the Rew City High games. A pitiful competition where freshmen went up against sophomores and juniors went up against seniors. As a senior, this was a very critical day. As always the seniors were obsessed with proving that they were better than everyone else. I volunteered for the track team representing the seniors, because it was the least directly competitive and I had proven myself good at running away from things. The worst thing that could happen is just falling and scraping your knee. Instead I got put in the volleyball team. I hated volleyball, just the thought of sore fists after hitting that ball let alone a sore head after getting slammed by one of them was enough to make me ditch school for the day. As always I had to uphold the stupid honor of the senior class or else I'd be instantly labeled a wuss, and for a guy that was a fate worser than death. I walked onto the court with low expectations, and that's exactly what I got. "Alright motherfuckers! We're going to show these bastards what we're made of!" Mitch Gerald hadn't even began playing and he was already soaked in sweat, it puzzled me how this guy could sweat so much in such a short period of time. He must've had abnormal pores or something. I had just arrived and needed something to do, so I skulked over to Mitch, who was busy dribbling the volleyball around like a basketball player. "Hey, Mitch. I need something to do." He didn't even stop his dribbling, he was indulging himself in his best Shaq impersonation. "You'll be sub." He grunted out without even looking up at me. I was expecting that, I'd had a long history of falling short of the guy's expectations, especially when it came to sports. I was about to make my way for the benches when I saw her, I stood their frozen in my steps as I caught sight of Trissa. Daintily sitting on the top bleachers surrounded by all her friends, she was talking to them and didn't seem to care about what was going on in the court. Nonetheless Trissa was there, in the same building as me watching! There was no way I was going to just sit this game out. I may have hated volleyball but what would Trissa think of me if I just sat on my ass the whole game? I had to get in this game, whether I liked it or not. "Hey Mitch!" Mitch had completed his dribbling and now had the ball spinning around on his fingertips. "What?" He said carelessly. "Can I get a spot right now? I can't sub right now." "Why not?" "I..." I couldn't tell him the real reason why. "I just need to get in the first part of the game." Mitch halted the revolving of the poor volleyball and placed it by his hips. "Alright Dreeve, I'm going to level with ya bro. You remember last year?" I sure did remember last year, I wanted to kick his ass for bringing that up. Last year they allowed me to play a while on the football team, I didn't last a minute in there before I got smashed by two of the fattest people in the school. The bad part about it was that I was already in the fetal position before the two giants were even about to smash me. That was the ultimate shame, that's why I hated it when Mitch brought it up. "Yeah." "Then you know what I'm talking about. You just can't play for shit, I mean, no offense bro, but god damn you suck!" He was right, but I had to impress Trissa. I had to show her that I had some athletic ability, which I really didn't but I had to at least give the illusion that I did. "I'll pay you." Mitch squinted at me. "What? You'll pay me to let you play the first half?" "Yeah, how's $50 bucks sound?" I already had my wallet out. "You're bullshitting me bro. C'mon man, we're talking about the School Battle of the Classes. We've got to make sure we win this shit, as seniors we gotta uphold our reputation. I got to have the best players in at all times." He slapped my shoulder. "Just sit this one out for the team bro. You'll do more good that way." Mitch was pretty reasonable, he used words before he used his fists. If it were Tray I'd have the volleyball net securely wrapped around my throat by now. "All right." I dragged myself back to the benches. I had a good view of Trissa from there at least. She could probably see me clearly from all the way on the other side of the gym. I bet she could see me sitting on my ass and she'd be thinking what a goddamn loser I was. Not even bribery could get me in the game. I opened up a bottle of water and took a sip. I wasn't even thirsty, I did that so I could swallow down the lump in my throat. Already I was getting all worked up about my disappointments. It would take a miracle to get me in there, a miracle... Or sabotage. I got up in a rush, I pretended to wave at someone on the other side of the gym. With the water bottle in hand I made a quick dash along the volley ball court, and with an evil grin sprinkled a nice puddle of water onto the floor. Careful not to fall into my own trap, I made it to the other side safely and watched. All it'd take was one person to slip and break their neck and I'd be one step closer to a date with Trissa. "Yo, Mitch!" Screamed Eddy Baxton. "Yeah?" Mitch hollered back. "Where are we going to-" It was almost comical the way he slipped. He was swiped completely off his feet, his hands hitting the floor first as I heard a quick unsettling snap. "Ah fuck!" I smiled wickedly. Everyone crowded around the poor guy. I did the same, careful to avoid the puddles of water I had laid out. "God damn it! The floor is wet! I sprained my wrist or something man." Mitch and another guy helped lift Eddy up. "Who the hell put all this water here?" One guy asked. "Who gives a shit, just get some towels and clean it up, the games going to start soon." Another kid said. Mitch who was at the center of the circle took command of the situation as always. "Dave and Greg, get Eddy over to the nurse, god damn it. We'll just have to start without him." Trying my best to suppress my laughter I quietly snuck back to my place on the bench, as if nothing had happened. "Dreeve!" I stood up at attention. "What's up?" "You lucky son of a bitch. Get your ass in there." I smiled, for once I was victorious. Chapter 5: Inadequate. Did you really think you'd win? Trissa was watching, she had to be. She was watching my every move, sizing up my every action, I had to make a good impression. Now was my chance to show off my athletic ability even though I knew I had none. I had to prove that I wasn't a wimp. Whenever I thought of volleyball I always pictured Trissa running around the beach in a two-piece bathing suit, her hair all wet and hanging off her shoulders like a chick from Baywatch. She'd hit the ball over to me with a soft giggle and I'd jump up in the air and send it right back over. It would land gently in the sand. That's when she would bend over to pick it up and... "Kevin!" A quick punch to the shoulders and my twisted fantasy was washed away like the gentle ocean wave that it had come in on. "Eyes on the ball Kevin, c'mon it's 5 to 8, we gotta win this bad mother fucker. Get with it." "It's Dreeve." I corrected meekly, we hardly even knew each other. I did had to get with it though, I couldn't believe I was performing so poorly in front of Trissa. More than once I missed hitting the ball completely, I prayed that Trissa did not see that but chances were more likely then not she did. Mitch threw the ball up into the air, I lost sight of it as it seemed to soar into the blinding white lights of the school gym. I hated this part. "Heads up!" In a spray of sweat and grunts the ball shot passed me and over the net. I glanced over at Trissa again, I couldn't stop checking up on her every 5 seconds. She sat way up in the bleachers, she declined to play any games today. She was more of a sidelines cheerleader type of girl I guess. She didn't want to get her hands dirty, I wouldn't want hers to either. The ball came whooshing pass my head, almost taking my ear along with it. Just when I thought I had cheated death the ball came soaring back over my head again. A sharp piercing scream filling my ears as it flew by. I'd never been shot at before, but I've always imagined bullets sounding a lot like that. Piercing through the air, so unpredictable that you don't know whether the next one is the one that will drive its way into you. I peeked over at Trissa again, anxious to see her reaction. She was busy talking to her friends that seemed to surround her like as if she were some celebrity. She didn't seem to care about the game, let alone me. "Heads up!" My worst fear brought to life, like watching a nuclear bomb slowly dropping from the sky, the ball came hurling at me and wasn't going to ask me to move. "Hit the ball! Hit the ball!" Everyone screamed. Suddenly the ball seemed to be made of solid metal, there was no way I was going to slam my fist into that thing. I sidestepped the deadly projectile, cowering behind my arms in fear. The ball shrieked pass me, just when I thought I was safe by some perverse law of physics it came bouncing right back at me, slamming right into my jaw. The ball bounced off the court, seeming to laugh on its way out. "What the hell was that?" Mitch pounced at me, his arms outstretched in disgust. "Hey Dreeve, you're supposed to actually hit the ball, not let it hit you." Dave, the captain of the volley ball team, tossed at me. "S-sorry." I didn't know what pain was worse, my sore jaw or the unforgivable shame that pulsed through my blood. As I rubbed my throbbing jaw I glanced over at Trissa's holy throne, a glimmer of her eyes stared right back at me. "Shit!" I threw my eyes down to the floor, she saw me looking at her! "Hey can someone sub for Dreeve?" Mitch yelled out to the sidelines. "No!" I shouted out before I could restrain myself. Mitch raised an eyebrow at me. I was not going to be put out so easily, not with Trissa watching. If she hadn't been watching I would have gladly taken my place on the bench but not this time. I wasn't going to be killed off so quickly. I had to do something to show Trissa my athletic skills, which I had to remind myself yet again that I didn't have any. "I'll hit it next time Mitch, and I'll score a point too." Already my expectations had exceeded reality. "Don't mess this up Dreeve, I ain't going to lose this game because of you, aight?" I nodded in submission. One last chance, I had to concentrate on the ball, I had to impress Trissa, I had to do something, anything that wasn't stupid. The other team sent the ball screaming over to us, Greg came rushing in and slammed the ball back. That's when he came, Ben Temit, but everyone called him Mr. T because he was big and buff like him and always wore a gold chain with the letter T on it. He came rushing in, his face in a solid block of power. With a heavy fist he spiked the ball over the net, and right towards me! Hit it you idiot, a foreign voice in my head taunted. Yeah, hit it you pussy, Trissa doesn't go for pricks who can't even hit a ball. Another voice shot at me. You are a loser, you're going to screw up, just you watch! Yet another voice predicted. "I'm not gonna lose!" I cried out in furious rage. I slung my arm straight into the ball's path, I knew that it would hurt, but nothing could prepare me for the excruciating impact. No pain, no gain. A voice that sounded like Mitch came at me. I closed my eyes and imagined the ball careening over the net as I slammed my fist into it. I imagined the ball flying past their best players and striking the ground like a bolt of lightening. I imagined everyone around me staring at me in disbelief, as they realize how they had underestimated me. I imagined Trissa running down the bleachers with out stretched arms, yelling out my name in praise, "Dreeve! Dreeve that was so cool!" Then she'd practically crash into me, kissing me all over. "Dreeve!" My name shattered my delusional hopes. I looked down at my feet and panicked as the damned ball sat there smiling back at me.
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