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Prompt #584 – Word List


Cia

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Here is my story titled, First Time.

 

First Time

 

My name is Luke.  I did not have a great time growing up, it was down right hellish at times.  Where to start?  I know, I was starting my first year of high school.  It was August in the Mojave Desert, temperatures well above 100 in the shade.  I knew that high school was coming and I was so scared.  I decided to commit suicide.  I didn't have any needles, rope, or access to gas, but I did have a knife.  I tried to slice my wrists, nope.  The knife was dull, so I learned how to sharpen it.  Finally it was sharp.  When everyone was out of the house, I went into the bathroom, locked the door and took off my shirt.  I had the knife pressed up on the under the bottom of my sternum about to plunge it in.  Fortunately for me and my family, I just don't do self-inflicted pain very well.  

 

Before you ask, yes, I had a few friends from middle school that went to the same high school, some in a few classes.  But this was the first of the last four years of school that I had left with my parents before I went to college.  Since sixth grade I had my college major chosen and the college I wanted to attend.  So I was focused on what I wanted to achieve.  However, all of that fell apart when I met him, Mark.

 

Yes, I'm gay!  Big shock, again I've known this since sixth grade P.E.  But like so many of my generation, I keep this to myself.  My parents thought I would be harassed by gang members.  Really, gang members?  They were worried about other things than me.  But the locker room...yeah, the men's locker room was the worst part of my day.  

 

My freshman year was home room, English, computer lab/word processing, P.E, physical science/earth science, Geometry, the French I.  On every Tuesdays and Wednesdays we had block schedule; Tuesday was home room, English, P.E. Lunch, Geometry; Wednesday was computer lab, science, lunch and French.  

 

The classes I had with Mark were English, P.E., science.  So not only feeling ackward about my body I now had a sign on my back that I had to have a girlfriend.  I didn't have time for girlfriends.  I barely had time for school, homework, and daydreaming about Mark riding on his white horse lifting me up to jump on, hold him tight and ride off into the sunset.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, sorry.  

 

So lunch was fun being a child of low income parents.  The menu was a well-balanced meal of milk, entrees that make me wonder how I survived without getting a tapeworm, and fruits.  Being lunch in the form of a bag or lunch box would put you in the social crosshairs of the bullies.

 

I managed to make it through the first semester without being noticed, then I made a mistake.  I got comfortable and started checking guys out in P.E.  Some of them didn't bother me, since I would participate and was somewhat good at playing sports.  Until one day when a group of them put white out on my combination lock.  In English, we studied Romeo and Juliet.  I learned about the Elizabethian Era of theatre, men played women parts.  Cool!  So when it was not my turn to read I would daydream about Mark sitting at a long wooden table, like in a banquet hall.  We would be sitting at opposite ends, making faces, and obscene gestures of the boring people around us, then the dream was over because of the school bell.  

 

The remainder of the year, pushed me further away from the being normal and closer to my coming to terms with myself.  It is from the darkest places that we find the funniest of humor.

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I gave myself five minutes to use the following words in this weeks prompt.

 

Use these words; lunch box, wooden table, a white horse, menu, and a needle.

 

I put my lunch box on the wooden picnic table and stared at the days lunch menu all the other kids were enjoying at Rex Harrison Middle School.  It wasn’t that we were poor, it was just normal in my family that I wear my older brothers clothes after he outgrew them.  That’s why I was adept with needle and thread. Everyone around me was laughing and joking with friends.  For once the entire class was ignoring me.  I pushed the menu away and opened my lunch box and removed my cheese sandwich.  As I absently bite into the stale bread, I opened my notebook and looked at the doodle that happened in last period.  I don’t care what the teacher thinks, it was a white horse, not a zebra.

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