May: Mitch

This past month is shit. You want to know why? Well, I hooked up with Ally. And shit went down…and Ally became emotionally and physically attached to me. It went kind of like this…

After I left Ally at Wal-Mart, I had felt really bad about it. (Ok, so I really didn't feel guilty but she is hot, and I wanted sex.) So the next day, I called her up, apologized, and somehow I got her back. We had talked our shit out, and became a couple. I took her out to a movie, but then we ditched it halfway through, Ally had brought fake IDs so we could buy some booze. After we had gotten our nights worth out of the liquor store, we got into my truck, and parked it at Ally's spare beach house. Then we went inside, and you know, started getting drunk.

The stereo was cranked up, the lights were all on, and our clothes were almost completely off. We had made our way up to the master bedroom, and I came close to fucking her…and then she busted out crying. Yes. Butt ass naked, about to be screwed and she started crying.

"Ally what's wrong?"

"Um, nothing," then she cried harder. "EVERYTHING!"

"What do you mean?" I felt kind of awkward at that point, because most girls I have sex with don't burst out in tears naked with her other naked partner and tell emotional and tragic stories. I had grabbed my boxers and put them back on to be less awkward.

"Well, it all started at the beginning of the year…" Ally had no problem being honest and naked at once. It was hard to focus because she has such a nice body…

"And, and I promised myself I wouldn't fuck up and get a disease!" That was weird. Ok, maybe I should listen and quit staring at her boobs.

"….and nobody wanted to fuck me because they knew I had STDs after they got me naked! I had spread it to a guy from Chester and he told EVERYBODY! And the last guy I was with tried taking videos of me when I was stripping for him!" She squealed.

There was another ten minutes of bitching and crying before I tuned back in.

"You love me right?! I mean, you would fuck me, right? Even if I want to be pregnant and have STDs?" she gave me the biggest I'm-not-who-you-think-I-am look ever.

"Ummm…." Shit. She's gonna be horrified now.

"WHAT?! Oh my fucking God nobody loves me! I wasted thousands of dollars on my boobs, ass, cheek bones, thighs and lips for this?!" she screamed. She hit me on the arm and that was my cue to get the fuck out now.

"Um, I'll call you later." I said.

"NO! Don't leave me!" She laid back screaming.

"Ally, I have to go. I wasn't spending the night remember?" I assured her. I stood up walking towards the door.

"No! Stay!" She screamed some more shit about not trusting me and how I was an asshole, but all I cared about was finding my damn pants. As soon as I was dressed again and grabbed my keys and made sure I had everything, I walked out the door.

As I slammed my door I swear I heard something fall down steps or something but I forgot about it. I wonder if the neighbors heard us.

As I was driving home, I called my buddy Levi.

"Yeah," he answered.

"So do you think Ally's hot?" I grinned knowing what he would say.

"Fuck yeah. I would tap that any day, man you're a lucky son of a bitch," he paused. "Why?"

"Oh you know…I was about to fuck her…she broke out crying right before I was about to get the bun in the oven, then she started telling me about her past sex life and how she thinks nobody loves her cause she has STDs-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back it up. Did you just say Ally has an STD?" Yes. If you would let me finish you would know.

"Yeah. So anyways, she was saying she wants to get pregnant and get this- her boobs and ass aren't real. She's had work done on her face and all this shit that we all thought was natural hottie. Yeah. She's not so fuck-able now is she?" I started to feel sick after I said that. It's not her fault she wants love.

"Yeah, really. Didn't she give some guy STDs?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I never really cared. I spent the last 3 years with Blayre; I guess I never really got into that shit." There. The sickness was replaced with butterflies and heartache. I know. It's gay.

"That's right…did you know about her an Ryan-"

I cut him off. "Yes."

"Did you know they did-"


"Did you know that he bought-"

"Look, I don't want to talk about them." I snapped.

"Jesus, I was going to say did you know that he bought a new truck. Relax a little." I could tell he was seeing right through me.

"Oh, well, no." I started to feel shitty again. I ditched Ryan because I felt like he used me to get Blayre. I know it's not really his fault, but I didn't want to blame myself. I mean, if he's happy with Blayre, so be it. I had her first.

Again, that sounds gay.

"Dude, don't worry about her. She was bitchy. But hot. But really bitchy." I wanted to punch him.

"First off, you don't even know her. Second, you don't know what she's been through. Third, that's sick and that's not true she was everything I wanted to worry about. You don't know her like I do." I felt like throwing up now. I so am not over her.

"Well, sorry to break it to you bro, but you are still in love with her and you know it." He sighed.

"No I'm not," I paused, trying to think of a way to deny it. "I'm just not used to being without her."

"Dude, what the fuck that is being in love with her."

"If it was, Mr. Cupid ass, then why the hell am I trying to move on?"

"Because you're in love with her and she's not in love with you."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"Yes it does. Do you dream about her?"

"Umm, not all of the-"

"When you kiss another girl do you think of her?"

"Once in a-"

"Do you wish you were Ryan?"

"Maybe, well-"

"Then it's settled. You still love the chick, but she doesn't love you."

"But why not? I'm so loveable!" I sounded like a gay little kid's stuffed animal. What the fuck is the matter with me?

"Dude, she don't think so."

"She doesn't love Ryan does she?" I'm starting to become way too attached to her.

"I don't know I'm not Ryan. Just ask the fucker."

"Who? Blayre?"

"No, Ryan."

"He hates me now."

"He always has hated you, man."


"Do you want me to ask him?"

"He hates you too."



Levi paused. "But do you want me to?"

I pulled into my garage. "Maybe. I got to go."

"Ok, fine. Bye."

The phone went dead and all I remember was feeling horrible.

"MITCH!" Mrs. Kere yelled at me. I snapped out of my daydream and looked at my English teacher.

"Yeah?" I asked, slurring my speech like a drunk ass.

"If you were listening, I had asked you to define how you feel about Jesse's life," she pursed her lips at me. "And you needed your book out."

I paused. What was she talking about? "Uhh…"

"Oh wait, you wouldn't have a book because you probably lost it. Detention, after school. I suggest you party less and study more. Have you even read chapter 40? Or did you assume you would have it easy? Did you do the essay questions on your worksheet because this was on there! I should've expected this laziness from you on the last days of school. How do you think you'll graduate? You still have to take this book's exam! If you don't pass you sure as positive won't be passing high-school English, there for you have not graduated with the required GPA. If you keep acting like this, you will never get through life! How do you suppose your boss will feel about you being lazy like this in your job? I at least would like you to pay attention even if you didn't read it so you can keep up. How many chapters have you read, anyways? Zero, hmm, that's nice to know how you feel about education. F, that's what you'll get an F," she paused, and we heard the bell ring. "Class dismissed. I assume I'll see better of you tomorrow, young man, or shall I say until you pass high school English?"

That did it. That old bitch just got on my last nerve.

I was going to flip out on her. But I decided to make her sound dumb when I walk across the stage, getting my diploma, and flipping her off. Oh, how kick ass it will be.

Instead, I said "Yes, ma'am," in a southern accent and walked out the door. As I walked out though, I said, "Kiss my ass."

I know she heard me because she puffed up and I felt her glaring at me.

Whatever I guess.

I saw Blayre in the hallway, though and she looked damn good. She never dressed like that. And apparently, she isn't the same I guess. Ally told me, along with other creeps that she was caught with pornography videos and apparently she became a prostitute and all this bullshit, and Ally felt really good about it too. I knew that wasn't Blayre, and by the way she looked and how she had reacted to when Jasmine Weber, her best friend, told her in English, I knew she definitely knew nothing about it.

Here's the catch: Ally told me about a week before everybody knew. When I saw her in the hallways one day, I overheard Ally spreading the rumor to others. Same with that Emily chick that's Ally's best friend; they both are acting weird. I broke up with Ally once she told me, because I knew it wasn't true and Ally is so head on with drama that I couldn't take it.

One thing for is that girls are obsessed with causing the next girl shit. That's easy to understand. But whoever made sure I was the drama starters boyfriend I will never know.

Not that Blayre ever did. But, you know. Ally….and some…other girls.

"Hey, so what did Mrs. Kere say?" she asked surprisingly calmly.

"Oh well-"

"Yeah, not you. I was talking to Jasmine." She snapped. I turned around noticing Jasmine with a look of discomfort on her face, I felt so incredibly worthless and dumb. And I was right next to Jasmine's locker.

"What's your problem?" Oh fuck. Shouldn't have brought it up.

"Whatever, Mitch." She rolled her eyes. "Anyways…" she trailed off, then looked at me.

"Are you going to, I don't know, move some fucking day?!" Jasmine yelled. I always hated her.

"Fuck off, bitch." I kept walking.

They said something about me that I didn't make a comment about. Something about how I'm a dumbass. I don't know, but for one thing, I had to hurry up to get to Art.

Just when I thought it was easy, one of my very past ex-girlfriends decided it was time to talk about 4 years ago when I stole her virginity when I had thirty seconds to get five feet to my next class.

"So, Mitch, I was wondering since you're single and all…." She grinned. "Maybe we could-"

"Get to class, good plan, Carrie!" I'm such a smart ass.

"It's Joslyn. I'm Ally's other best friend."

Oh. Yeah. Not gonna happen, bitch, now move. "Oh, well-"

The bell rang.


"Nice job, Joslyn, I'm late for class." I made sure to emphasize her name.

"Yeah, hey sexy pie, call me." Wasn't it supposed to be cutie pie, not sexy pie?

Whatever. "Not gonna happen. Got to go."

I walked those five feet feeling lucky. Then I remembered that I didn't finish my poster of a dog yet. Oh shit. Second red flag, six to go then. Oh well, I can sweet talk her.

"Sorry, Ms. Lillian, I had an important talk with our principle on the way here. And I didn't finish my poster, I'm truly sorry. Is that a new shirt? It looks better on you than a starving model!" I heard somebody scoff, and then the whole class grew with shock on what she said next. I remembered to add the model part because she hates models. We don't know why, but she does, and she loves clothes. Like Blayre….

"Oh, that's good. You're excused. And you can have until Wednesday to finish it, honey. You're so sweet; I should give you extra credit!"

Works every time. She's single, lonely, and she calls me cute and honey. Fuck, I even have her number.

"Ok, class, as you know, you are supposed to have finished all of your final pictures/posters, etc. for graduation. Correct?"

We all agreed.

"Fantastic! I want you guys to just now sit back, relax, and do whatever you want. No texting or sleeping, though."

The tension in the room's paint-filled air grew happier as she said that. I looked around at the desks, noticing Blayre's was empty. Out of habit I had immediately asked where she was. Again, I'm retarded.

"Where's Blayre?" Everybody smiled like preschoolers and not seniors, noticing the tone in my voice. I always had this cloud-nine kind of gay voice when I said Blayre. Levi calls me gay when I talk like that but I like it because I'm thinking of Blayre…

"Oh, well," Nick Johnson, a good friend of mine in football started, "She definitely didn't tell you, then."

I got really confused.

"What?" I asked, now starting to really care.

"She's has to go work on her class speech and solo for the graduation, remember? She got voted to speak and to introduce the audience on Saturday?" Rachel Danielson said.

I've screwed you before. You gotta nice body on you. I wanted to say. "Oh, she doesn't really tell me that crap."

"Dude, she doesn't even talk to you." Nick said.

"I know. She kind of hates me."

I noticed Ryan sitting in the back corner, and felt him looking at me.

"We can tell." Nick said.

"Yeah, but I guess I can't do anything about it so, uh, are you going to college?" Really? That's the shit I thought of?

"Uh, no." He said.

"Me neither."

Ms. Lillian looked up from her desk, and smiled. She's only twenty-five, and she, if you didn't notice, likes me a lot. She wouldn't do anything special like sex or something but she does flirt with me and help me with girl shit.

"I think you still like her," she said.

People nodded.

What the fuck? I didn't think this was a group conversation. "Just forget about it."

"Ok. But it's pretty obvious." She dropped her pen on her desk and pulled back her chair and sat down.

"Oh well."

Just as I was going to admit it, as weak as I had gotten at that point, Blayre walked in, with tears in her eyes, and she sat in the corner near Ryan. She whispered so low, and he rubbed her back. He said something apparently comforting to her, and she smiled. He wiped her tears and stood up and hugged her. She hugged him back and said something else. I looked away.

That should've been me. Not Ryan. I wanted to know why she was crying because it was a slow death when she was crying. I know I shouldn't be butting in, but why the hell did I have to end us? It's all my fault, and I tried to blame her. All I wanted was for her to be happy and for me to be happy, and I thought wrong. My happiness was her, and I lost it.

I noticed I was becoming really tense, and my jaw was tensing up, and apparently it was noticeable.

Nick looked at me, being all rough and tough as he is, and he said, "Dude. No. Quit being a pussy, and grow a pair. Do not cry."

I nodded. "That should be me. He's not supposed to be thinking about how lucky he is, or how he's going to kick someone's ass if they touch hers. That's my job, and I can't stand this gooey bullshit."

"You broke up with her."

"I know."

"You don't need her."

"I know."

"So why are you about to cry?"

"I don't know."

As soon as I said that, she looked right at me, and I felt like throwing up. She looked so beautiful, and I wish I could just kiss her and hold her tight, and tell her I loved her.

And this weird ass side of me wanted to bitch slap her.

Some kids were reading, some were doodling, some were checking emails and some were watching us. I wish me and her didn't have all the same classes. Its hell.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

We kept staring.

Her book fell.

We kept staring.

A pencil dropped.

We kept staring.

My shoulder popped.

We kept staring.

Ryan kissed her cheek.

We looked away.

It was weird. We were so in love, and now we're so not in love I think. Well, I am, she's not. And to think of all that we had done in these past years together to let me all take them to hell with me. I wish somebody would've stopped me from all this. I wish I would've went to work and not have taken the day off that one day. Maybe I wouldn't be feeling so shitty and I wouldn't be so confused.

The rest of the day went like that. We'd stare, I'd get in trouble. We'd stare, she'd start crying. We wouldn't stare, and Ryan had to be all over her. It was horrible. I can't tell her how I feel, though, because that would be being a pussy. And I do have balls. Just, right now their hiding I guess?

When I got home that night I skipped supper. I went right to my room, turned on some rap music, blared the speakers, and went to bed. And the last thing I remember was thinking about when Blayre and I first met. The good days.

The days before I let myself come to reality.