Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedStars in my Head; PART TWO; Chapter One
January 10th 2008 12:58
SHARNEE’S BOOK
I hate being jealous of Faith.
Why did I tell everyone she tried suicide? I’m sick. I’m revolting.
Telling Tom that. Letting GEORGE know! After what he did to her!
I’m a sick, sick bitch.
I want Mike so much. I want him to touch me. I want to do what he did with Faith.
This isn’t about the birds and the bees.
This is just about sex.
I hate being jealous of Faith.
Why did I tell everyone she tried suicide? I’m sick. I’m revolting.
Telling Tom that. Letting GEORGE know! After what he did to her!
I’m a sick, sick bitch.
I want Mike so much. I want him to touch me. I want to do what he did with Faith.
This isn’t about the birds and the bees.
This is just about sex.
The word going around at school was that Faith and Mike had done it. Had sex.
Actually, the word going around the school was Faith and Mike had sex, Faith had an abortion, Mike was stabbed in the pancreas, Sharnee had sex with Faith, Tom had sex with a lamp, George beat up Mike, Mike beat up George, George beat up Faith and killed her baby, Faith had a baby and hid it in a lampshade, Sharnee had sex with Tom, Sharnee got high on cauliflower clippings, there were drugs in the beer, there were drugs in the beer that killed Faiths baby, Faith got drunk and thought she was a banana, Faith got high on the drugs in the beer and thought George was a banana and tried to eat him so he beat her up and killed her baby, Tom had sex with a banana and Mike and Tom poked Sharnee in the eye and called her a cauliflower clipping.
But the only one everyone was certain of was that Faith and Michael had sex. With each other.
“Y’break ‘er in mate?”
“Eh?” said Mike turning around in the boys changing rooms to see Jason ‘Silky Chook’ Marsden getting changed, his floppy black hair flapping goofily over his glasses. Mike got a whiff of the change room. The smell of boys changing rooms is what it is and it cannot be described as something else. Those who have not experienced it will probably live a long and healthy life.
“Y’break her? Faith?”
“Nup.”
“Why not?”
“Dunno. Guess she just doesn’t want it yet.”
“Y’get a header?”
“No”
Michael (and probably every other grade ten in the universe) would often boast of his (mostly bogus) sexual achievements in the boys change rooms. But somehow with Faith it was different. With Faith everything was special, sacred. With her, it was no one else’s business.
“C’mon mate.” Jason moved closer in a way that indicated he was about to fling open a trenchcoat and sell something illegal. “Whatchya do?”
“Nothing”
“Ah-ha! I knew it!”
“What?”
“You did! You screwed her! But…” he readjusted his glasses. “But you don’t wanna tell people cos… shit. Shit. Shit mate, shit! You must really like this chick eh?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do. I really love her.”
“Ah-ha! I knew it.”
“But I didn’t have sex with her.”
Mike put on his shoes and left the change rooms, ignoring Jasons’ comments.
***
Faith and Mike sat next to each other in science. They had a test today, on chemical equations, ect ect. He hated science. The only good it had done was to aid the invention of his poem;
If thou dost drink H2O
To thy toilet, thou shalt go
If thou drink H2SO4
Thy toilet thou shalt go no more
Of course, his science teacher had torn it out with another vague warning of a Friday D.
Faith passed Mike a note.
G’day Michael
Hi! How are you? I’m good OK.
Everyone is saying we did it at the party. That we had sex. It’s kind of weirding me out.
OK, reply to this letter soon.
Luv, F@! #.
Hey Faith.
Everyone’s saying that! I dunno why. Silky Chook asked me about it.
Who is telling people? George Sharn or Tom? Couldn’t be Tom or Sharn. Must be George.
I Don’t reckon George would. He’s actually usually a pretty nice guy. What did you tell Silky?
I said we didn’t.
“Look up” whispered Faith.
Michael peered up. His science teacher was glaring at him. He gave his teacher what he hoped was a convincing smile. His teacher raised an eyebrow.
It’s worth noting Mr Allen only had one, really really big, eyebrow. Mike sighed and looked at his book. Blah blah blah. It may as well have been written in Chinese.
***
Mike sat in art. Today was Monday, a theory lesson. They were studying the different types of painting and the artists who painted them.
Today their teacher was on about surrealism.
“Dali was obsessed by many different things. Some of the reoccurring things in his work include ants and soft substances held up by these little supports. Now another reoccurring thing in his works is death. This appears both in the symbol of a skull and as a pair of female breasts.”
Jason suddenly got an unnaturally exited look on his face and gave Mike a massive thumbs up. Mike cringed.
“Now one of the things about surrealists… A question Mike?”
“Why are breasts a symbol of death?”
“Well I’ve never been quite certain of that. I presume that it’s because breasts are a symbol of sex, in that way also representing human manipulation and sexual corruption, leading to a sort of inner death. Um, I can’t tell you that for sure but that would me my presumption. It won’t be on the test.”
“Sex isn’t evil though”
“Pardon?”
“Sex isn’t always evil though. If people love each other then it’s like, good.”
“Well. I suppose that is a point, but the images of breasts portrayed in Dalis’ work are more images of lust rather than love. This is all just my interpretation, Dali may have had a different idea of what he was creating. I could get you a book on Dali if you like?”
“No, thanks. That’s OK.”
Michael though of that a lot. Human manipulation and sexual corruption, inner death. Sex was really the only reason they existed. You’re born, you eat, you grow, you screw, you have kids, you raise kids, you die. That’s the world as it was intended, by whatever, God, fate, Allah, the big bang. It seemed strange to him now, to put sex in the group of corruption, it was such a top thing.
Who cares if he was just following some predestined road map? It was a good a road as any.
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