Im not a witch, Im not a witch

JAKE- Oh good, the story continues. It turns out that this will actually not be the final draft of my memoir. The teacher has pulled the old Kansas City Shuffle on us students and I will be required to do a rewrite of my final draft to make an even better final final draft. Didn't see that coming. If you, gentle reader, have any advice for me, hey, let me know. Anyway, here is section three of five.

Climax

“This is the one!” Baggage Man said with a giggle in his voice. He had a slight build, unkempt hair that would later give way to dreadlocks, and pale white skin. His real name was Chris but our group of friends called him Baggage Man for reasons that have become obscured over time.

“No way, dude, it’s orange,” I replied.

“Orange is fresh. I’m taking it,” and with that he began to unspool the chain from the industrial size storage winder.

“Oh look at this!” I said. I grabbed hold of the oversized silver chain. It was heavy in my hand. “This is definitely my style.”

The hardware store wasn’t so busy at this point in the early evening, but nonetheless I wondered what the cashier would think of two kids buying a length of industrial chain each. We strapped on our rollerblades outside of the Home Depot and made a beeline for BM’s house. In his room we used a few tools and whatever crude methods we could think of to attach these newly acquired accessories to our wallets and then to our belt loops.

“I got it,” I said and stood up to check out how it looked. My pants almost dropped right to my ankles.

“Whoa,” we both said and then just laughed.

The chain was four or five pounds pulling hard on the right side of my jeans. With only a minor belt adjustment I was suddenly glowing with pride. Baggage Man got his attached too. His hung down to around his ankles, mine to just above my knee. “Let’s sport ‘em,” we decided, and it was back out to the town on our rollerblades.

We must have looked like quite the spectacle, trying to rollerblade with our giant new wallet-chains bearing us down. It felt good though. We were different, we were weird, and were we wearing our new chains to school? Absolutely.

The first couple of days were pretty fun. Everyone looked. Some loved them, some hated them, but after a week or so we were old news again. We became a novelty really, good for the occasional laugh when we would be walking down a quiet hallway with students all in their classrooms. The clinking and clanking when either of us was walking sounded something like Jacob Marley coming to haunt old Scrooge. Needless to say we couldn’t sneak up on anyone. Freshmen year continued to float by. I heard from Tia that Lindsay liked that I said goodbye to her that one day, but other than that I hadn’t heard much about her or put too much thought into it.

As class schedules changed with the new semester, I began to see more of this Lindsay girl in the hallways and such. I would glance now and then. Then glances became looks. We would smile in passing. I started to wonder about her, what she liked, was she still into me. I wondered what she thought about my chain. The more times I saw her the more she would change. Her lips got redder. Her hair was long, dark, and beautiful. Her face was simple and lovely. What was going on with me? None of my other female possibilities appealed to me this way. I began hoping I would see her at a certain time of the day. “Ok third period is over, now I head toward math and she should be coming… yes there she is, oh, she looks nice today…huh,” and things like that. It was a casual sort of feeling. There was no longing, but I was happy to see her. To say hi like we were friends or something. Well maybe casual is too light. There was something there, very real, yet indefinable. Either way, this spark would soon burn, the first time we touched.

I was wearing my oversized black jacket. It was late winter in Minnesota. I was adorned in the usual baggy black t-shirt and black cargo pant. My black hair was a mat on my head and the only thing pulling me through this day was the caffeine-infused root beer I gripped in my right hand. The bell rang. I pulled myself out of my chair. “One more class,” I thought to myself.

The school day ended with English class. Not a favorite of mine, but I do like the fact that it is so close to the front doors of the school. I began shuffling to the classroom through the overcrowded hallway. Rubbing shoulders and bumping into people was nothing new here. We were packed in the skinny hallway puttering along slowly in either direction like at some droll rock concert. I thought about my plans after English: stop by the freak chairs (to which I had been cordially invited by my fellow misfits, could it have had anything to do with my wallet-chain?), hook up with BM, and head to the bus to roll to his house for video games and oatmeal pies, nice. Would we be playing Hitman or… suddenly there was a break in the student traffic, I stepped into a hole of free space to my right and coming right at me was Lindsay.

It was so natural, so easy, like we had rehearsed it or something. We each opened arms and she came right into me. I held her. I held her. There is a piece of music which I consider almost perfect. It is Luciano Povarotti and Joan Sutherland singing Bella Figlia Dell’amore from Verdi’s Rigaletto performed in London. It is so crisp, so beautiful, absolute perfection. This blows that away. That is not even in the same atmosphere as what is happening right now. What is happening right now absolutely has stunned me. We were gently swaying back and forth and turning 180 degrees. No words were spoken. No words, oh no. Say something! If for once in your life you can come out of your shell. If for once you can overcome this debilitating shyness, this thing that is so cleverly masked by this giant chain, this aloof attitude. If for once in your life you could muster the courage to say something, to do something, do it now! “I don’t want to let you go,” I whispered, yet loud enough to be heard over the buzz of the hallway full of rushing students next to us.

Yes! Yes! You said something, and it was good, too. Wait; was that coming on too strong? Oh who cares, you said something! And it was true, too. Truest words you ever spoke. For at that moment surely, if nothing else in the world was true, I without a doubt did not want to let her go. “I’ll be late for class,” she said quietly, sweetly.

She turned away and continued down the hallway. We parted with arms outstretched, the very last thing to touch being the tips of our fingers on our outstretched arms. I stood there for a moment and then proceeded to join back into the flow of students, headed toward my English class. You could not have removed smile from my face for anything.