Leaking Heart, Yoshie Akira [black authors fiction TXT] 📗

Sometimes I don't why I am here. When I think about it, I know that I am not much different than the people around me. I am made up of the same materials, I have the same shape, the same thoughts. But somehow, I am still unwelcome in this world. Perhaps I am just an outcast by nature, shunned from society by some kind of predecided whim. Maybe they see something that I don't.

But I still feel as if there is somewhere out there, somewhere I belong. Somewhere out there is some one who will love me for who I am no matter what I say or do. But not here. And here is where I must stay, trapped in this bitter room where the heavy air is suffocating and the darkness in the corner swallows up anything near it. And that is where I stay, in the corner of my mind, hoping that one day it might swallow me up. It never does.

Every day I have to go through the motion of living. It's cowardly, I know, to pretend that everything is going right when the total opposite is taking control of my life. My parents don't suspect a thing. Every morning I wake up and shower, brush my teeth, brush my choppy blue hair, glance at my pale skin and green eyes in the mirror, and go downstairs for breakfast. A daily routine that leaves me feeling empty.

I go to school where I am invisible, where I follow through the motions of being a straight-A student. Where it is all a routine. Every day is the same, and nothing happens.

Until today. I walk into my home room class, which is 11th grade English, and find that a girl is sitting in my seat. I've never seen her before. She had long, black hair down to her waist, and dark eyes and skin. She had a pair of silver-rimmed rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of her thin nose, and asmall moleon her left earlobe. She wore a long-sleeve white t-shirt and muddy bell-bottoms. On her slim feet were a pair of brown flip-flops. At first glance I thought she was African-American, but it then occured to me that she must Native American. Her skin was too light -- her lips too thin.

After a moment of staring at her, I walked over to her. "Excuse me," I muttered quietly, staring at my sneakers.

She turned and looked up at me. Her eyes were brown. "Hn?"

"Um. That's actually...my seat," I said, my eyes still averted. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably and awkwardly.

"Oh," she said in her smooth voice. "Then is there an empty seat I can sit in?"

I glanced up at the front of the classroom. "The seat in front of Mrs. Aligen's desk is always empty," I replied.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. She shouldered her blue bag and started for the desk. Then she stopped suddenly and turned back to me. "Hey, my name is Keme. It means 'secret' from the Algonquin indians. What's yours?"

"Um," I blushed. No one's talked to me this much throughout the whole school year. Didn't anyone give her the memo that no one talks to me unless it's absolutely necessary? "Um. I'm Athanasios. It's Greek for 'immortal'." Maybe I'm shunned because of my name....

"...ool," Keme said something I missed while I had that thought.

"What?" I asked, panicking because I missed what she said.

"I said that your name is cool," she repeated, still smiling.

"Oh," I sighed.

"Athanasios?" she said.

"Yes," I replied. She was the first person to ever say my name right on the first try. She's pretty smart to be able to that."

"...with you?"

"Ah, what?" I snapped back to attention. She gave a look. "Sorry. I zone out a lot..."

"That's okay," she laughed. A beautiful laugh, like water running down the rocks. "I asked if it was all right if I could hang out with you at lunch."

"Oh. Uh," I frowned. How should I put this? She was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I said the first thing that came to my mind, the first thing that would drive some one away: "I'm an Untouchable."

"What?" she frowned in confusion. Her nose wrinkled as her eyebrows knotted together.

Well, that would drive some one away in India. "Uh, what I mean is, no one is really supposed to hang out with me."

"Why not?"

"That -- is a good question," I replied. Mrs.Aligen walked into the room. I quickly plopped down into my chair along with the rest of the class and I hissed at Keme to go sit down, too. She did, just before Mrs. Aligen turned around to overlook us students.

"Ah, I see we have a new student today," Mrs. Aligen stated in her bold, loud voice. She was dressed in her slate grey business suit as always, her permed blonde hair was tied up in a bun. Her watery brown eyes took hold of Keme. "You must be the governor's daughter," she mused.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Keme quickly, her hands folded neatly on her desk in front of her.

"Well," droned Mrs. Aligen, "I should warn you that I expect a lot from you, Miss Burns. I expect you to do much better than most of the students in this class, with the exception of Mr. Hallow. I doubt even I could surpass him asa student." She turned back to the board to write the day's assignment on it. I felt everyone but Keme's eyes bore into my skull with hate and jealousy. It's not my fault I have a lot of free time to study.

At lunch, I usually sit under the tree in the school yard and read a book. Keme was waiting for me.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile.

"Um. Hi," I replied. This girl was starting to make me uncomfortable. I mean, it was okay for her to talk to me when I kicked her out of my seat, but there are over a hundred girls at this school that she can "hang out" with. Why hasn't anyone told she's supposed to stay away from me? And why aren't the boys clamoring over her yet? She's the governor's daughter!

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, unable to think of a good excuse to get away from her. Where else would I go, anyway?

I sat down with her in the shade of the large oak tree. Keme drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her tan arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. I leaned back against the tree and stretched my legs out in front of me -- my usual position.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?" she asked.

I was silent. I had no friends, but I didn't want to say it aloud. She was smart enough to catch the hint.

"I noticed that. Athanasios, I like you," she said suddenly.

I was silent.

She turned and looked at me. Our eyes met. I could then see that she was serious.

"We just met," I said bluntly, blinking.

Keme suddenly laughed. "I know that. But it doesn't mean I can't like you, right? I mean, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

"No," I replied. "No, I don't." I quickly unzipped my bag and took out the first book my hand came in contact with. I would try to show her I wasn't interested in as indirect a way as possible.

"You're reading Romeo and Juliet," Keme noted.

I slammed the book shut again, blushing hard, and shoved it back down into my bag. "It's for a class."

"Which one?" she asked slyly.

"One you're not in," I replied quickly.

Keme looked at me strangely. Then she was angry. There was no transition, no warning to the change in her moods. She slapped me. She slapped me hard right across the face for no reason, and jumped up to her feet. I stared up at her in shock, cheek stinging. "You -- jerk," she emphasized, face twisted in rage. "I know what you're doing. You can't handle the fact that a beautiful, smart girl like me likes you. You're antisocial, Athanasios, and you can't handle it! Well, you know what? I change my mind -- I -- hate -- your -- guts." She turned on her heels and stalked off in outrage, leaving me thoroughly confused.

I went through the rest of the day in my daily routine. Keme, thankfully, wasn't in any of my last three classes, though I did discover that her locker was the one above mine. An awkward moment ensued, but then she went along, as if I didn't exist. Some one must have finally given her the memo.

It left a bruise. My mother noticed it first at dinner when I was setting the table.

"Oh, my goodness, Athan," she gasped, putting her cool, slim finger under my chin to get a better look. "What on earth happen -- Who did this to you?" she demanded.

I shrugged her hand off of my face and looked at the blue-checkered tablecloth. "It's nothing, Mom," I sighed. I felt pathetic.

"Son," Dad said in concern. He actually set down his newspaper -- a feat that was seldom witnessed in this household. "Are you being bullied?"

"No, Dad!" I groaned. "It's nothing!"

Then they had a conversation as if I weren't there.

"We should call the school," frowned Mom. "And ask if there has been any...incidents we haven't heard about."

"We need to find out who it is and demand an apology for Athan," Dad agreed. "This is unacceptable."

They continued to agree and comment on the bruise that Keme had left on my cheek. I felt rage welling up inside of me. "It's nothing," I said through gritted teeth. They ignored me. "It's nothing," I said again, a little louder. They ignored me still.

For the first time in my life, I stood up in outrage; my anger would not be contained. It was too large for the darkness to swallow it up. I clutched the tablecloth in my fist and flung it off the table, sending the silverware and china clattering and crashing across the linoleum floor. Mom gave a surprised shriek, jumping back away from the shards of porcelain. Dad also jumped up from his chair and yelled, "Athanasios!"

"Would you listen to me for once in your life?!" I screamed at them. They stared back at me in shock. "I said it