#small school

I don’t mind at all!!! ❤️ it’s been about four years since I’ve been in high school but I’m pretty sure this is at least a relevant description of each club/organization! But if anyone wants to add some specifics pls pls pls add in!!

Student Body: this is like the government of the class, in my school it was mainly important for the seniors, the roles are President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasury, etc. they make big decisions in regards to big events in school! Like Homecoming/Prom/Pep Rallies & they also give students a voice since they are kinda in direct line with higher up faculty like the Principal/Vice Principal of the entire school (at least for my small town school)

Beta Club: is an organization for students to help the community! Mainly about volunteering, helping around school and stuff like that to earn Beta Points to then have enough to qualify for this big event that involves multiple schools who have their own Beta Clubs, all the students compete against one another in different subjects, plus artistic stuff and even talented shows… I sang in front of like hundreds of students before during 6th grade (never gonna happen again!!! oml so embarrassing 😭) Beta Club also has officers too, President/Vice Pres. but I was just a member

Quiz Bowl: this is for the smarties in school! it’s kinda like a club that plays trivia, or practices trivia and then goes to a competition to play against another school, smarties against smarties, type of deal… it’s likeeee Jeopardy! That show!

Your mouth smiles in this way. I can’t describe it. I can’t. Lord knows, I want to, but I can’t. Besides, who would I describe it to anyways?

Your hair flops all over the place. I think the first time we met it was much shorter. Crazy that I can’t bring the precise image to mind anymore, it’s been that long. Cropped on the undersides and long (and still floppy) on the top. You joked about your mullet, and then said you wanted it back. You sort of have the mullet again, but I like it much better now than I did before I knew you.

You know what else? Your hands. Your elbows. That bone that juts out from your thumbs. The way your forearms curve and your shoulders crest over. And also, your legs. So ridiculous, I know. I hate body hair, and you have a lot of it. Because you’re a boy or young man or something. Especially on your legs, you have so much hair. And in your armpits, and on the ridges of your face when you don’t shave in the morning, and a dusting over your knuckles, and your ankles, and and and and. Why do I like it so much on you when I hate it on everyone else? It’s hair for heaven’s sake.

Did I mention your eyes? I didn’t, I know I didn’t. Never to you, at least. They’re blue, but also gray, which is just so typical. I never thought I’d find myself trying to describe how someone’s eyes change colors, but yours do. They’re especially pretty when they’re sort of gray and I can’t remember what color the sky is and your hair is falling into your eyes, and oh you’re so pretty.

I’m fairly sure you’ve had the same backpack since freshman year, which makes me feel warm. Why? I don’t know; I want to hold it for you when you’re reaching into your locker, and I want you to kiss me on the cheek when I hand it back. Your friends would groan, my friends would groan. A side note: I’ve never met your friends, and you’ve never met mine. I think about that. Sometimes. All the time. Never.

I should add that you’re taller than I am. By a good amount. I like that so much. I like that your voice is sweet and low and sexy to only me, and that you had to ask my name three times but never called me by it. And your legs.... I have to mention them again because I’ve just remembered how pasty they are above your knees, and that makes me think of baseball because you play it even though it has nothing to do with your pasty thighs. And when I think of baseball I think of the pictures I sometimes stalk on Instagram these days, and I think of the afternoon it was raining and I went to your baseball game because you’d asked me to. I only stayed for the first part (until after I’d seen you play) and then my best friend asked me why the hell we’d gone to a high school baseball game in the rain when we both knew that I hated all sports, especially the high school ones.

I think it’s weird how much I like your legs. I only bring it up again because the memory of you talking about your shin splints just came to me so clearly that I nearly blacked out from the force of it. We met in a gym class, which I think is the funniest part of it. It’s funny for reasons I can hardly explain, but we only really became friends because you decided to talk to me one day in this class. And during this class we ran. And you ran with me. You’re faster than me of course, but I’m fast enough all things considered, and you kept pace with me and talked. I was so out of breath, but you talked and talked and I hummed along to the sound of your feet on the pavement. After, you sat down right in front of me and showed me your shins (which were covered in hair) because you had shin splints and some other day I told you to wear tennis shoes and you refused because you were set on your checkered Vans. Unofficially, I think I’m done talking about your legs.

My friends call me thirsty. I suppose they’re right because although I’m still in love with you, I have no problem giggling about a multitude of other boys who I’ve talked to maybe twice, or possibly never. This could have something to do with the fact that you stopped talking to me approximately seven months ago with no explanation and senior boys keep poking me until I smile at them. I laugh and I scroll and I flirt poorly with other boys but if any of them ever asked me out I would say no because how could I go on a date with a boy I thought was cute when the boy I think is wonderful won’t even look at me? I wouldn’t. I’m not that cruel. Or maybe I am and I’m just waiting for one of those senior boys to ask me out.

So. What do I say now? How do I describe how my stomach hurts and how writing about you will never be enough. Each time I think I’ve gotten over you, you come back like a broken semi-truck sweeping around the other side to catch me unawares. How do I say to you that I love you that I want you that I hope you’re lost without me that I think you’re happy that I wish I wish I wish. I can’t say it because you don’t look at me, and you haven’t texted me since my Instagram account got hacked, and I have no idea if I ever cross your mind.

It’s sick because we go to such a small school and you pop up every where I go. First it’s your orange truck, and then it’s that stupid backpack, and then it’s you during spirit week in a cowboy hat and a pair of denim shorts so short the whole world can see your pasty legs and I want nothing more than to slam you up against a wall. You have a thing for cowboys. You played a video game all summer that you couldn’t stop texting me about. I don’t know anything about video games (and you know everything about them) but this one made you a cowboy and it was your favorite thing in the world until you finished it. Doesn’t that make you sick? Sick that I remember that?

So really, there’s no way to forget about you. It’s you and me and the 500 other idiots that go to our school and I can’t not see you. Every time I’m done, you’re just getting started again. Every time I look to you, your eyes are elsewhere. Every time you turn to me, I’m just looking away.

There is no avoidance. No stopping the ache in my fingers and my mouth and my brain and my stomach, and god I miss you. I miss you because you were my best friend. Because you were always kind to me when I was in a place where the meanest one around was myself. You made me laugh when melancholy stole my attention. You made my hormones pick up in some inexplicable show of unfairness.

I miss you.

I can’t say it enough to make it mean how much it does.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I try, and I can’t. I don’t try, and I can’t.

I want, I wish. How do I stop this thing in me that wishes you were gone? How do I keep my focus on my own heart, and not on yours, and wishing you wouldn’t leave?

Because you are. It’s college for you next year, and I’ll be moving to a new school. Mostly because I have barely any friends at the school I’ve now been at for five years, and you were my last. Partly because this is a small school and I see you in everything and everyone, and I want to stop seeing you. Because maybe then.

Maybe then in the school I start fresh in the fall. Maybe then when I can rest knowing you’re not living two minutes by car away from me. Maybe then when I can delete the messages, the texts, the memories.

Maybe then I can forget about you.

Maddie: Well.. thanks for you know carrying my books.

Aaron: What class is this anyway?

Maddie: AP history, it’s my only class with Ollie this year. How about you, what class are you off to after you’re done harassing me?

Aaron laughs: Math.

Sophomore math, he neglected to mention. The two probably wouldn’t have any classes together because of all the catching up he was required to do. 

Maddie: What are you staring at?

Aaron licks his lower lip, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Aaron: Have I told you how pretty you look today?

Maddie laughs shaking her head. 

Sitting the books down, he closes the distance between them. 

Maddie blushing: Aaron, we’re in the hallway...

Aaron: So if we weren’t in the hall...

He leans against a locker pulling her into him,

Aaron: Then I could kiss you like this? Or like this? Or like-

?: * clears throat*

Aaron sighs bending down to pick up the books. 

Principal Wallace: I’ll see both of you here at 7am for morning detention. 

Maddie: Detention?

He raises an eyebrow,

Principal Wallace: Will that be a problem Madelyn?

Maddie deflated: No, no sir. 

Aaron flips him off as he walks past telling them to get to class. 

Aaron mimicking: Guess we better get to class *walking down the hall* but hey look at you rebel, detention on the first day!! *rock n roll fingers*

Maddie shakes her head ducking into class. 

Ollie gives her a weird glance as she slips into an empty seat. 

She starts to mouth something to him and Mrs. Rush turns around. 

Mrs. Rush arms folded: Maddie? Something you’d like to share??

She mumbles a quiet “No ma’am” slumping back into her chair. 

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About me:

mags

she/her

(L)GBTQ

I live in the mid-Atlantic United States (motherfucking swamp)

I go to school in the northeastern United States (frozen wasteland)

bad sense of humor

I’ve got diagnosed anxiety and depression

Extroverted introvert/ambivert

Mom friend

Fuckin theatre nerd

I.B. Dying Diploma Recipient

About my school:

Small school (~2500 students)

Liberal arts college

~30% acceptance rate

Academically rigorous

Politically active campus

I have a single room w/ ~50 people in the house (what we call dorm buildings)

Dining hall in my house

It is Friday night. You want to go out. You arrive at the frat to find it closed. It is Friday night. You want to go out. You arrive at the frat to find it closed. It is Friday night.

There is a girl in one of your classes who always sits in the back. She never speaks. One day she appears in your other classes. She was never there before, but yet you feel as if she always was. She never speaks.

The football team is doing better this season, they tell you. You ask about their record. The football team is doing better this season, they tell you. As the years pass you notice students change, but the players never do.

The dorm smells like weed. Public safety comes and says it is taken care of. The next night the dorm smells like weed. Public safety comes and says it is taken care of. The dorm smells like weed. You don’t even remember if your school has public safety. Nothing is taken care of.

The spring wind blows the smell of manure from nearby farm fields. Your campus is in a city.

People ask you where you go to school. “I’m not familiar with that one,” they say.  No one is ever familiar with your college. Do I even go to college, you wonder. You are not familiar with that one.

Our inaugural ‘education testimonial’ is, appropriately enough, about Catholic schools in a large American city. Thank you so much for your time on this! ~Scripteducator  

Some (lots, this got long) other Catholic school things that haven’t come up yet.