Excerpt from Aim Higher - I Do Two Anthology
Today’s one of the really annoying days. Eric follows me all the way to school. Well, not exactly follows. He sort of pops into existence on the bus and sits next to me. There’s always an empty seat there. It’s so embarrassing. I mean, I know no one else can see him, but he won’t stop talking. I get my phone out when I want to talk back to him. That way, it doesn’t look like I’m sitting on the bus talking to myself. I got that idea from a book. But it’s still embarrassing, because the only thing he ever talks about is which boy he’s going to try and fix me up with next.
Just as I’m about to get off the bus, Mandy Dorkins leans over from the seat behind. “God, you’re pathetic. Everyone knows there’s no one on the other end of the line.”
I tell her to go swivel on it, and when the bus stops, my foot just happens to be in exactly the place that makes her trip up and fall on her ugly face. Everyone laughs at her.
And I feel great for a microsecond or a nanosecond, whichever one is shorter, which is as long as it takes for Eric to stick his bloody oar in. “I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? No wonder the arrows weren’t working!” he says, bouncing up and down beside me on the street, wings fluttering like a moth on acid. “You know, I heard about this. Kids your age who fancy each other show it by physical violence! She’s the one you really want, isn’t she? You want a girl, not a boy!”
And he won’t shut up about it all bloody morning, just keeps droning on and on in my ear about it until I can’t think straight, and I end up shouting really loud, “I do NOT fancy Mandy bloody Dorkins!”
Right in the middle of Geography.
(back to m/m contemporary anthologies)
Just as I’m about to get off the bus, Mandy Dorkins leans over from the seat behind. “God, you’re pathetic. Everyone knows there’s no one on the other end of the line.”
I tell her to go swivel on it, and when the bus stops, my foot just happens to be in exactly the place that makes her trip up and fall on her ugly face. Everyone laughs at her.
And I feel great for a microsecond or a nanosecond, whichever one is shorter, which is as long as it takes for Eric to stick his bloody oar in. “I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? No wonder the arrows weren’t working!” he says, bouncing up and down beside me on the street, wings fluttering like a moth on acid. “You know, I heard about this. Kids your age who fancy each other show it by physical violence! She’s the one you really want, isn’t she? You want a girl, not a boy!”
And he won’t shut up about it all bloody morning, just keeps droning on and on in my ear about it until I can’t think straight, and I end up shouting really loud, “I do NOT fancy Mandy bloody Dorkins!”
Right in the middle of Geography.
(back to m/m contemporary anthologies)
