Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedStars in My Head Part 1; Chapter 5.
November 28th 2007 03:59
SHARNEE’S BOOK
I think I figured out what it meant. The stars are in your head. It’s like those movies where, when they’re going fast, or on drugs or whatever, they fly through the place and it looks like they’re zooming through a universe of stars.
I think it’s a bout that about getting on that natural high, releasing your stars. Rocking the world.
Actually, it probably means nothing. I don’t know why the hell I’m analyzing my dream, this one anyway. I’m sure it would be more interesting to analyze last night’s one.
I was with Michael walking through this hot forest. He bought me to a tree and started kissing me, then touched my stomach, and then.... haha.
I wonder what the hell that means. I think I know- I’m a jealous self-obsessed fat moron, who loves but can’t be loved.
That’s about right.
I think it’s a bout that about getting on that natural high, releasing your stars. Rocking the world.
Actually, it probably means nothing. I don’t know why the hell I’m analyzing my dream, this one anyway. I’m sure it would be more interesting to analyze last night’s one.
I was with Michael walking through this hot forest. He bought me to a tree and started kissing me, then touched my stomach, and then.... haha.
I wonder what the hell that means. I think I know- I’m a jealous self-obsessed fat moron, who loves but can’t be loved.
That’s about right.
Friday. No It’s not Friday is it? No, that was yesterday so today is… Oh yeah…
ENTER: THE WEEKEND
Michael got up. He looked at his peel off day to day calendar and quickly stripped it of Friday. He looked at the message.
Saturday\Sunday
Remember; everyone has the potential to become the most important person to you.
Remember; everyone has the potential to become the most important person to you.
He grimaced, remembering. Faith. Today he was meant to meet her and, through some miracle, not make a complete dick of himself.
He whacked the radio on.
‘Welcome to Townmountain local radio soapbox where we allow listeners to have their say. On the line we have Rose Tainks, are you there on the line Rose?’
He began to get changed.
‘I’m here John, I’d just like to have my say about the upcoming election and how not one, not one single candidate has agreed to make those horrid younger drivers obey the rules. It’s disgusting! And then those cops come tell me I’m breaking the law. Well apparently the rules have changed since I took the test. How was I to know, I said I did, shouldn’t there be a letter about this? But no, apparently I’m just supposed to guess what the rules are...’
Michael ran down the stairs and began to make breakfast. Wheetbix.
Michael’s technique of eating Wheetbix was beyond comprehension and description. Those who have seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre may have some idea of his methods.
‘Well you do have a valid point Rose but I think you have to understand…’
“Would I be correct to presume you are planning on going out today? From the way you today dress, so civilly I would be foolish to presume otherwise,” said his Gran, cutting out from the hallway.
“I’m meeting some friends.”
“And whom may I inquire?”
“Tom.” This was not entirely a lie. He supposed he may see him there.
“You dress like this to impress Tom? You never have before. A more thorough explanation is required.”
“Well…”
‘And another thing. Those kids and their rude T-shirts. They are thoroughly puerile and offensive. These female silhouettes, revolting! Sexist. And brand names! They might as well be walking billboards! And the French Connection… well! Don’t get me started on the French connection!’
Her saw the satisfied gleam in his Gran’s eye. It was time to repent. Sinners be saved. Resistance is futile.
“I’m planning on meeting a girl as well.”
“A female!”
“Yeah. Sorta thing.” His Gran twisted her head and squinted at him.
“Sort of thing? You mean you’re not quite certain of her gender?”
“No. I just, yeah. Gonna meet her. Just say G’day.”
“I see. Hmmm.”
That was one of his Gran’s famous Hmmms. It would soon lead to either a small nod of approval or the promise of a vague yet horrible punishment.
‘Oh believe me Rose, I wouldn’t want to get you started on anything. Thanks for your call.’
‘Wait! What about those charity stores, and those horrid posters and the railway and the ca…
*click* ’
His Gran…
Gave…
A nod of approval!
“Right!” He stood up, perhaps too enthusiastically. His Gran looked at him in dismay. “I’ll be off then. See you later Gran.”
“Be good”
It is worth noting that this was said not as; ‘Be good as I am worried for your safety.’ More, ‘Be good or I shall grind your testicles with a pestle bowl.’
No one messed with his Gran.
***
Michael ran up to the shops. Faith wasn’t there yet.
“How’s it going mate?” called Jess, cleaning the tables.
“Oh, good. Y’self?”
“Mmm. Ask me again when my cleaning shift’s over. Looking for Faith?”
“Yeah.”
“She’ll be here soon. She said t’ tell you.”
“Cool, thanks” Jess shrugged.
“s’ fine”
Michael took a seat and picked up a music magazine to flip through. Apparently the Foo Fighters album was great. Local band Arials Curse were performing at the RSL, supported by Dog eat World. Nobody likes pop music. Down with try-hard Gothic wannabies. Rock on Dude.
“Hey.”
He looked up. There stood Faith, a small white Roxy T-shirt singlety thing and denim shorts.
“Hey. Owarya?”
“Pretty good I s’pose.”
“Y’had enough brekky?”
“Oh, yeah. Just about.”
“I’ll shout you pancakes?” Faith hesitated for a moment.
“Sure.”
They sat down at the table. Jess moved over to their table and started giving it a wipe over. She turned her head to where a young man was talking to an old lady.
“Hey James! Stop chatting up all the good lookin’ chicks and get these two some pancakes!”
James blushed. The old lady chuckled.
“You always spoil my fun Jessica,” she said.
“Y’wouldn’t want him anyway Mrs Wignell. He’s useless aren’t y’ James?”
“He may be, but he has such a cute little bum.”
“Ahh yes, and a nice bum it is too.”
James was busy making pancakes, his face glowing bright red.
“Thanks,” said Faith.
“No prob”
The pancakes arrived, steaming hot and drowning in a golden lake of hot, sweet maple syrup. Mike put some on his plate, then some on Faiths. They got stuck in.
“So,” said Faith, her mouth full of food. “Why did you actually ask me out.”
Mike jarred for a minuet. Then replied.
“I dunno. I like you. You looked like, not looked looked but like looked like a pretty cool looking, as in not looking looking, but a cool looking, girl.” He closed his eyes quickly, and prayed that Mike the dickhead would be eaten by wild Tyrannidons.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What?”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t think that’s why. I think you only went out with me cos Sharnee told you to. Is that right?”
“Well…”
“Is it?”
“Yes”
“You bastard! You stupid cruel arsehole! I hate you! I hate you!” She picked up he knife and stabbed it into Mikes chest.
Actually, nothing in the last nine lines happened anywhere but Mikes temporally paranoid brain. Instead, Faith said-
“Thanks,” – and shoveled a chunk of pancake into her mouth.
They ate in silence for a while. The Faith spoke.
“What do you want to do?”
“Dunno. You wanna see a movie, or go to a, place or Timezone or like if you…”
“I wanna go somewhere you go. Somewhere you go all the time, by yourself.” Mike hesitated for a few seconds. Then he spoke.
“Tree Emotion”
***
Sharnee and Faith trudged across the fields, through the mud and grass. Just ahead they could spot a large tree with an old wooden treehouse in it’s crook. She followed Michael up the ladder.
“Careful,” he said, “That second last step has nails in it”
“Why?”
“Some dickhead was stealing our tools. So we boobytrapped him.”
“Did it work?”
“Guess so. No one ever stole our tools again.”
They reached the main part of the treehouse and clambered in. Michael went into the back and picked up a large stereo. Faith opened a drawer and pulled out a large purple book.
“I wouldn’t go in there. That’s Sharnee’s stuff.” Faith dropped the book and shut the drawer.
“Are we close to Sharnee’s house?”
“Just across the river.”
“Oh. Cool.”
They climbed down the ladder, Michael holding the stereo with one outstretched arm.
“Where are we going now?”
“Just a little way. To the tree.”
They managed to arrive at a large twisting tree, with it’s arms in twisted undecided masses.
“This is it. Just lie down in the tree.”
All Michael’s senses were telling him to stop, to think about the sanity of what her was doing, telling him not to Nerdify her away. Bugger off, he told them. He stuck the stereo in the tree branch and lay down on a curving branch under Faith.
“What sort of music do y’ want?”
“Play me something happy.”
“Kay”
He pressed ɧ 61;.
They just lay there, eyes closed, letting the smooth bass and steady uplifting beats vibrate through their flesh. As the song finished, Faith opened her eyes, and smiled
***
Under the darkening sky, they ran together speeding through the long grass, trying to race the sun home. When they got to her house she turned and looked at him.
“Wanna lift home?”
“Yes please.”
“OK.”
Then she leant up and, full force, kissed him on the mouth. He kissed back.
“Woah, hang on, I, I…” she stuttered and pulled back.
“You right?”
“Yeah… a bug was crawling up my nose.”
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