give me truth

“      what ?  like, LAS VEGAS ?      ”     a crinkle of her nose at the idea     (one she actually considered ! )             “      an elvis impersonators salary is sixty-eight thousand dollars but i could never live in las vegas. AND PLUS i would have to dye my hair and, you remember, in fourth grade i wanted to be like the girl from my life as a teenage robot and, so, i dumped blue paint on my head and i got in trouble ?  well i was told that i potentially damaged my scalp and sudden changes could then result into me losing hair.      ”      something along those lines.   she’s positioning herself so that her legs are crossed over one another, body fully turned towards isaiah as she coddles her cup in her hand.         “       should we toast ?      ”

Sometimes when Josie spoke, Isaiah learned it was easiest to wait until he was absolutely certain her train of thought had come to a pause. At the mention of the incident in fourth grade, he couldn’t quite stop the bark of a laugh that erupted. “Jesus Christ — I totally forgot about that. Freakin’ bummer, the past coming back to bite you in the ass like that. Las Vegas shittiness aside, you could’ve been swimming in that sweet 68k,” he joked. The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin as she turned toward him. He leaned back, allowing his arm to rest on the back of the sofa as he glanced down into his cup again. “All right, sure,” he said succinctly, then met her eyes again. “What to?”

her fingers are clasped around two styrofoam cups, filled up only half way with red colored liquid.        “      look, i snuck some cocktails from the adults table !      ”    ADULTS TABLE it sounded so juvenile but it’s the way her bubbie described it. don’t touch the adults table, your fruit punch is over there.    not that she was complaining, fruit punch was her favorite drink  BUT she’d risk a small slap on her hand if stealing kosher cocktails would cheer up isaiah.   she extends the extra cup out to him before, gently, plopping herself on the couch beside him.       “     i feel like a vampire, it’s so red.    ”     then, in an attempted DRACULA impression,       “     mwahaha, ivant to drink your blood.      ”    /  @isaiahzeev

Isaiah shot Josie a strained smile as she made her way over, his hands clasped between his knees as he sat alone on the couch waiting for her. Purim was usually one of his favorite times of the year. He watched a couple of kids run by in their costume masks, thinking life would be easier if he could just turn back the clock to ten years ago — hell, even ten days would be a massive relief. The huff of a laugh that escaped him at Josie’s words surprised him as he reached for the cup she offered. “Thanks.” He was glancing down at its contents, swirling it around a bit when she did her impression, knocking another short, amused breath out of him as a result. Josie was always good for a spot of amusement, he had to give her that, and she was never ill-intentioned. She was easy to like. “Oh wow, that was pretty damn good, man,” he said, nodding toward her with a small grin. “I’m like, crazy-impressed here. You ever think of taking that on the road?”

          Akio raised an eyebrow, amused by the harshness. He knew he’d been slacking this year more than in the past years, but for the past three years he hadn’t been a slacker. “Or senioritis in my case,” he sighed. Akio knew that it was more than just that. He just didn’t want to go into it. “Sure, I guess you can think about it like that. I think I’m to the point where I just don’t want to do something for others and let them suffer the whole bad grade thing. High school teachers still give them some sort of grade even if they didn’t do a lick of work and that’s not fair either,” Akio shook his head. “Do you want any help? I’m not doing anything.”

At Akio’s words, Isaiah lowered his hands from his eyes to glance over at him. “Definitely not doing them a favor here, man. I reached the point of not wanting to do other people’s work without getting credit the moment my sister and I were introduced to the chore wheel.” He reached for the index cards, neatly stacking them again as he spoke. “And I mean, like I said, I’m gonna give my teacher a heads up after class that I did all the work, which’ll probably have been pretty obvious when we go up to present, anyway. I’m not too worried on that front.” He leaned back in his chair to crack his back, stretching his hands over his head. “Which language do you take?”

“Well. A rat’s a rat.” She shrugged. “Kind of sounds like you’re just looking for something to complain about.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re jumping to conclusions about a person you don’t even know, man. Just looking for someone to use these devastating witticisms on?”

“Hey, you ever watch this documentary called Blue Vinyl? They practically line everything with that stuff. Car parts, homes… Anyway, it’s hazardous for us and they do it anyway. Not to mention, getting it destroyed is difficult, expensive, and if done the wrong way -the cheap way- is bad for the environment. Guess where they put these factories that create it? Places like Mossville, Louisiana where the people are living in poverty and have zero power to do anything about it. It’s still hazardous to their health which means more doctor’s visits, but do they have health insurance? Probably not. Medical bills pile onto rent, utilities, and regular day to day expenses leaving them stuck in the same cycle of poverty. Sorry, total side track. Don’t wanna pile on information if you’re not looking to add anything else, but in case you hit a wall you know… It might be just the kind of fluff you need to get through to the end.” Eric threw down his backpack at the empty seat next to Isaiah, using the bag as a pillow as he crossed his arms over it and rested his head, still reading the words Isaiah typed away on the school computer. “One more thing. Really off topic, but you hear back from Stanford yet?” 

“I actually haven’t but I’ll totally look into it, dude. That all sounds pretty firmly in my wheelhouse. Maybe I’ll surprise my family with yet another documentary for our Thursday night movie, as they just totally freaking love it when I do that,” he joked with a grin. “But, ah, I can probably reference it to give everybody a better idea of what environmental racism is, then segue into how fracking plays into it. Not a bad idea.” He shook his head as he returned to his work, turning to the last few slides. “Really wish you could’ve seen the bare-bone shit Trevor and Angie sent me, man. Padding this project has been priority number one for the past fourteen hours, so all fluff’s welcome.” Isaiah glanced over at Eric as he sat down, then exhaled heavily once he processed the question. “Ah, nope, not yet. End of the month, most likely, or beginning of March, which is... pretty shitty. We’ve got a holiday coming up on the 28th, so some family’s coming in who’re gonna be asking me a million times a day if I’ve heard anything. Fuckin’ torture.”

Brynn wasn’t sure that she entirely believed him, she wasn’t sure that she shouldn’t just keep walking all the way out and finish one of her own papers. But as she turned back to face him she was reminded of all the other times she had wished that somebody could have shown her the mistakes that could have gotten her that slightly higher mark. Every one counted when you’re only bets for getting out of Wisconsin were scholarships. She sighed her bag dropping down beside him as she once again leaned over and pointed at the screen, “Second to to third line in the second paragraph and then this one just a little further down.” She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by her sudden outburst. She cleared her throat and continued with her own apology, “I may have overreacted a bit back there. I’m sorry, I’m sure you really were only joking. I really am just trying to help.”

Isaiah felt a small amount of tension ease from his shoulders as she turned back, leaning in to help. He made a clicking sound with his tongue, nodding as he looked over the sentences she pointed out. He bared his teeth in a soundless wince. “Ah, Jesus,” he muttered, clicking the cursor into the middle of the first one and backspacing until he found a reasonable end to the sentence. He glanced over at her when she spoke again and thinned his lips into a semi-apologetic smile. “Hey, I accepted your offer. A guy’s gotta take responsibility for his decisions, maybe even listen to a couple constructive criticisms. Be a mature adult and shit about this stuff. Human error’s a thing.” He scrolled back down to the next run-on sentence, letting out a huff of a laugh at just how much it ran-on. “Holy shit, Callahan would’ve totally ripped into me for this one.”

        This did suck, this sucked quite a bit actually. This whole awkward situation, however, was brought about by Lillian and her roundabout way of trying to get a message across while being too stubborn to outright say it. It was hardly as though she didn’t like Isaiah, she simply didn’t like him in a way that could have avoided this awkward dynamic that had been born at her hands and lack of planning ahead. Her eyes shifted between looking directly at him too hard and for too long, and then quickly darting away to look at just about anything else. Uncomfortable is too weak of a word to describe it. 

        Lillian’s gaze was quick to dart back to Isaiah when he stopped talking about environmental club, she was basically thinking she was safe. He was just going to ignore the obviousness of why they were being so awkward and make small talk instead, she was too late to look away again and ignore his question when it was finally asked. “I…” she began, though the sentence had nowhere to go. She stuck her tongue in her cheek and looked at her hands, which were fidgeting like hell then too. “I don’t know.” She nodded slowly and continued staring down at her fidgeting hands until they stopped. “What happened with Environmental club…?”

The constant dissonance between them hung in the air as an invisible torture device. Isaiah hadn’t felt awkward, unsure, and self-conscious all at the same time since he was probably thirteen, and yet all those feelings swirled around in his gut at once. He was young and these kinds of situations were still new to him. Lillian had been his only real girlfriend in his four years of high school and now it was decidedly over. He didn’t think he had ever had the chance to process that, until they were standing face-to-face. He had a breakup; he was already broken up with. What a weird, shitty day.

But a tug of something took hold as he watched her fidget. It was empathy, or at least his mind wanting to be empathetic even in the absence of an explanation, because he still cared about Lillian. He wasn’t petty enough over the end of their short-lived relationship to want to see her look unsure and miserable. He just wanted to make sense of it, mourn the loss for a day, then move on. He hated the weird limbo they had found themselves in. “You don’t know,” he said, biting his tongue because he repeated her words. Again. He cleared his throat. “Just — I dunno, man. It’s fine that you didn’t want to, like... be with me. Or whatever.” It came out in an embarrassingly fumbled rush, almost leaving him wishing he had simply replied to her question about the Environmental Club and ignored everything else. “Heads up would’ve been nice, is all.”

Brynn turned to Isaiah, her own eyebrow cocked at just how rude the boy was being when all she was trying to do was help him. She sighed, realising perhaps even the Northlake nerds thought they were better than her, before she took her pressure of the table and took a step back. “I was just trying to help, but if you’d rather have a okay paper than the best then I suppose I’ll just leave you to it,” She retorted, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder in annoyance. She knew that she probably should have stormed off, right out of the library and not looked back. And she really thought about doing that for several seconds before she finally gave in and said, “Other than that the content actually seems to be interesting and if you were to fix tiny mistakes like that the only shame will be that your entire group will get the same grade as you.” She cursed herself in her head, knowing that she had screwed up any attempt at a dramatic exit, as she turned to leave.

Isaiah’s brow furrowed as her demeanor changed; his thoughts scrambling to figure how why she was tense and annoyed, before coming to his own conclusion. This was the exact opposite of what his mom wanted him to do and the dumb guilt she had implemented was already stirring. “Whoa — hey, I was just joking around, man. Like, with the high fuckin’ praise thing,” he tried to explain. He was only kind of joking around, granted, but still. Shifting his jaw, he pushed his chair back enough to turn as she stepped away. “Look, I’m — sorry. Or whatever. I do appreciate the help. Run-on sentences are a bitch and I hardly ever catch ‘em when they’re in my own work.” He paused, clearing his throat, then continued with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder. “Will you show me where you saw ‘em if I promise to be less of a dick?”

Brynn didn’t have a mom to lecture her about the importance of getting along with the Northlakers, but she did have a pretty vocal conscious that told her not to judge a book by it’s cover. After all, the boy had found himself with the same problem she had faced many times before so perhaps they weren’t entirely different. She smiled a little, leaning on the desk as she read through his words. She sighed a little, not being able to help her critical mind as only moments later she commented, “Your introduction is good, promising. However, there’s two run on lines in the second paragraph and your last piece of evidence isn’t sourced correctly.”

Isaiah cocked an eyebrow as she spoke. His teachers had never complained about run-on sentences before, but he supposed there was a possibility a little unorganized rambling occurred. He was running on three hours of sleep, after all. He glanced at the screen as she continued and huffed a laugh. “Promising, huh? Wow, high fuckin’ praise.” Reaching for the mouse, he scrolled back down to the last piece of evidence in question. “Do you mean cited incorrectly? ‘Cause I’m using APA here, since it’s a paper for Gov. Unless you’ve got a problem with the source, itself. I downloaded the article right from JSTOR with my dad’s account, which is usually a pretty damn reliable site.”

“i can understand wanting to throw punches but an all in brawl? i just don’t get that. if you want to fight, hire a boxing ring and knock yourselves out. looks like you were in on the action though.” scar mentions as she gestures up to the fading bruises upon his face, flashing an amused grin. “it’s for my social studies class; i stayed up all too late to finish this psychology essay and it’s due in this afternoon.” 

“Hey, I’m not gonna pretend to understand the deep, twisted psyches of a bunch of hotheaded jocks, man. But whatever went down on the court just — spread.” He frowned for a second before suddenly remembering the fading, mottled bruises that littered his jawline. Reaching up to absently touch it, he covered the movement by scratching under his chin. “Kinda, yeah. Pretty unwillingly.” He tucked his hands into his pockets then nodded. “Happens to the best of us. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for, specifically? Grammar, spelling, et cetera?”

“I feel like I’d rather have that topic than the one I ended up with. I don’t know what compelled him to give me immigration reform. It’s such a broad topic. He did that on purpose too. He knew who he was pairing me up with.” Eric rolled his eyes and shrugged, “In any case, it is what it is. I’ve been up pretty late getting this shit done. I actually came in here to take a nap.” The jock scratched at his scruff as he scanned Isaiah’s work. “I don’t wanna interrupt because I’m sure you’re on a roll here, but have you thought of looking into NIMBY? Maybe talk about noise pollution and environmental racism. Might help fill out your presentation.” 

“Hey, high school’s all about researching broad as hell topics then only having enough time to barely graze the surface. ‘Cause that’s education, apparently. Sucks pretty hard,” Isaiah said. “But, ah, we took a pretty strictly health effects angle in an effort to keep it at least a little concentrated and environmental racism’s cropped up.” He scrolled down the screen and yawned—the lack of sleep catching up with him—as he pointed toward a slide with a picture of the NAACP in North Carolina from a couple years ago. “Fracking project in Stokes County, North Carolina — a place that’s, like, 90% white or something — decided to put their biggest site in the literal one predominantly black community. Chemicals in the drinking water, ash pollution, blah-blah-blah. Classic fuckin’ moves, right?” Scratching at his forehead, he squinted as his vision blurred when his eyes watered post-yawn. “I can probably squeeze in noise pollution right around there. Talk a little about psychological and physiological wellness, too.”