WRITING

I was only trying to catch a glimpse. Sometimes I see them, the girls in my grade and one below, and all I ever want to do is look at them. It isn’t my fault, you know. It never is my fault. They tease and taunt and mock and it isn’t fair. I never do anything wrong on purpose; I never try to hurt them or upset them on purpose, I just do.

You see, it happened like this: I was walking, taking the long way as I often do because the fluorescent lights in the hallways give me the most piercing headache, to my eleventh-grade honors biology class. I never look forward to this class. Most of my classmates in it are older than me, and I do not care for older women. Then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the physical education class had already started. The girls, sitting criss-cross on the black top spray painted with faded game courts, staring wide eyed up at their instructor, obediently and silently. As they were told, they did. Change into your P.E. uniforms they were told. So what was I meant to do?

I heard that the girls hate the P.E. uniforms and I am not sure why. I always liked mine because no one could possibly make fun of me while I wore it. We were all equally ugly. The boys, the girls- we all wore the same hard cardboard shirt that might only go in at the waist if you prayed for it to and the same knee length polyester shorts that had a drawstring at the waist line. I, personally, kept my shorts at their desired length and allowed the burlap sack-like shirt to do as it wished with my form. The boys did the same, though I never found them attractive in the first place, so the length of their polyester shorts did not cross my mind even once. The girls, on the other hand, found the design of their uniforms disgraceful. It was uncommon to see a girl’s uniform untampered. Whether the seams of the shirt were carefully taken in by their mothers, or the shorts cut to the shortest allowed length, or the waistband rolled up 4 times over (taking advantage of the draw string, which was tied tight to reveal 24 inches of nothing), something always had to be tampered. I do not understand their disgust of the clothing, but whatever the cause I am grateful for it.

You place me in a conundrum, at the crossing of two roads, one traveled a thousand-and-one times over, and the other only dreamt of during the most lonesome of nights. If I were an idiot I might have carried onward, which I would have if at the moment I remembered that my eleventh-grade honors biology teacher marks students late mercilessly and that my record of perfect attendance would surely be put to shame. But I am no idiot, I am an opportunist. I knew the consequences my actions would bring, yet the reward was so much greater.

My instruments were all laid out in front of me. I knew they would be, for I had planned this from the very start. Three years- no, seventeen years of planning and waiting would finally pay off now. There it was before me, the trash tree I had befriended in my freshman year, whose branches reached desperately toward the frosty windows of the girls’ locker room which were left open in warm weather. Through the open windows I could hear the girls’ voices. What was it they spoke about so enthusiastically? Surely nothing about me. The only times I overheard girls talking about me was when they were declaring that was the day they would report me for harassment. What evidence do they have against me? I thought. Your memory of seeing my eyes watching a point just lower than your own? Or when you thought that I was in the girl’s bathroom just to be alone with you? I’m allowed in any bathroom I please! The school does not know which bathroom to allow me, so I am allowed to use both! I would never break a school rule just to listen to you urinate, that isn’t even something I am interested in at the best of times. If they knew what I was about to do, what visions were flashing through my mind as I walked around the trash tree trying to find the best place to begin climbing, they would surely never allow me in their presence again.

That is a mere inconvenience, however. I’ve only a year more in this school before I enter college. There, they will not know of my previous misconduct and the women will like me. Why deprive myself of something so crucial if it will not matter in just a few short months? What is a year in the face of eternity? I grabbed hold of the tree. After this I will learn its name so I needn’t call it a trash tree any longer, I decided. I may be scrawny but thank God I can at least lift my own weight with ease. If I were weak I would have had to give up there and then, but I am not nearly as weak as I look. Many have underestimated me, but I am strong. I am strong and the women love me.

Branches broke and footing was lost but I trekked onward. Who else has a will at the same level as I? None! I reached the desired height, with the sight of those girls just a few more feet away. The edge of the window pane tilted toward me. Not even a screen separated the girls and I. I could have climbed in with them if I desired. If I fell head first onto the ice cold concrete of the room, a loud thud would have echoed against the halls of red steel lockers. They would have all rushed toward my side. ‘Are you okay?’ they would have said, and as I peered up to look at their faces to answer, all I would have seen would be their unconcealed skin, from their ankles to their chests. 

I assume an animalistic posture, embarrassing for anyone else but not for me. I feel no shame. I placed one hand in front of the other, crawling forward, hoping that the branch would not give way under my weight. Maybe now all those nights of skipping dinner and instead gorging myself on top ramen were finally paying off. My heart was beating out of my chest at that point, and I was certain that my face must have been completely red. This was not an uncommon occurrence for me, of course. I am an excitable person. And with topless girls so close I could nearly taste them I could not even think to contain myself. 

I reached the point at which crawling any further would surely break the branch. I had to strain my neck to see into the open window. The sight before me was this: 3 rows of lockers decorated the room, with a girl standing before every other door. The girls are separated by year, with the youngest at the lockers in the back and the eldest at the ones in the front. From the high window I was able to see almost everything. Each girl was already stripped down to their underwear. They all wore a different size bra, no two girls looked exactly the same. The way they moved was captivating, with such grace did they remove their clothing. Careful not to ruffle their hair while removing their shirts and even more careful to not pull down their underwear when removing their pants. From the high window I could see directly into the girls’ cleavage. Oh, how soft their skin must be. The sweet scent of perfume beckoned me further.

For an instant I imagined what I would do if I were in there with them. I prefer intimacy, as I am a romantic, but being surrounded by girls wouldn’t be half bad. I’d like to watch them kiss each other, their chests pressing up against one another, their gentle arms grabbing at each other in a fit of passion. And then I would join them, and I would lick every inch of their bodies and they would giggle in their sweet voices and then I would die.

In my distracted state I inched closer to the window for a better look. One of the girls called out my name. She said that I should come closer. She told me to look at her. She wanted me to look at her chest and see how much bigger it was than the other girls’. She wanted to see my face so she could imagine me wrapping my hands around her waist which was much smaller than the other girls’. I didn’t want to deny her, so I crawled closer. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t hear the creaking of wood over the girls’ voices. They all wanted me. I had to. And then I fell.

I didn’t notice, and then my ribs broke. And everyone knows how desperately I try to avoid pain. I hate being in pain, more than anything in the world. It is others who are supposed to feel pain, not I. So it wasn’t fair. They were the ones who told me to, so they should have felt pain. I cried out, louder than I thought my voice was able.

“Who’s there? Someone yelled outside,” a girl said.

“Oh, I think something must have happened. I’ll go get a teacher,” another said.

A crowd surrounded me, all asking ‘Are you okay?’ and I sighed. Not a girl in sight. And then I fainted.

And that’s really how it happened, that’s the truth. It was the girls’ fault. This is why we have dress codes, so things like this do not happen to people like me. I am a fair and honest student, an even fairer and more honest citizen. You believe that I was tricked, no? Swindled? How am I to turn a blind eye when I know that a girl’s bosom is on display just for my eyes only? I am innocent. And next week when I try again I will be sure to tie a noose to the tree so when I fall I will not have to face your judgment again.