Muse (standard:drama, 1167 words)
Author: Lusa	Added: Oct 22 2001	Views/Reads: 3332/2367	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A short story from the perspective of a teenage boy watching the girl he has put on a pedestal.

Muse 

I laugh, and my friend shoves me in reply as we stroll past rows of blue
lockers and the yammering kids milling in front of them. Yesterday's 
lunch is tossed in the general direction of the garbage can from what 
looks to be half of a grade eight sticking out from a locker on my 
right. Casually, I follow the sailing sandwich, head swinging to the 
left just as we pass her. 

The sandwich lands just behind her feet, but she doesn't notice. She's
got a mirror in her locker so I can see her face even though she's 
turned away. She's trying to jam her knapsack into the narrow locker 
with her knee, but she's not looking at that either. Her locker door is 
wallpapered with photographs, stickers, pictures of movie actors and 
giraffes, but her chin is tilted toward a single drawing taped in the 
back of the locker. I only get a glimpse of the corner-- her shoulder's 
in the way-- but I know what it is. I drew it. 

The girl next to her says something, giggling, and her face turns toward
the other girl with a smile. She looks at me then, dark eyes slanting 
where the rest of her face will not, and looks away again, rolling her 
lips together. 

She used to smile at me. 

Then again, I used to smile back. 

"So what happened with you and Katy last night?"  Sam asks from beside
me,  more for my sake than any real interest on his part. He's a good 
guy. "Did you ask her out?" 

Taylor, sitting on the floor in front of my locker and watching as we
amble up, answers for me. "Nah. He's still jacking off over the new 
chick. What's her name, ah, Sandy, right?" 

Her name's Rhiannon, Nan to her friends. Just Rhiannon to me. We don't
have any classes together, but I see her before and after each one. All 
the guys think she's cute-- in a my-girlfriend's-best-friend or little 
sister sort of way. But there's something  more than that, to me. 
Something different, almost otherworldly. I used to call her, and we'd 
talk while she did her homework. But I stopped calling, because in my 
mind I've got this very delicate, very perfect image of her. 

I don't want to lose it. 

Sometimes it's all I've got. 

But I'm not going to say that to a bunch of fifteen-year-old guys. 

"So who's the one staring at her?" My voice sounds foggy, distant. I
blink heavy lids, dropping my bag from my shoulder and reaching over 
him  for my lock. "Get your ass out my way, Taylor. And," I raise an 
eyebrow and  my voice for the benefit of all. "It just so happens I am 
going to Katy's brother's party this weekend." 

Taylor shoves aside about two inches and laughs. "So are we, man." 

I pull open my locker and toss in my bag. "Yeah, but I was actually
invited." 

Sam looks at me mildly. "By Katy?" 

"Uh huh," I reply with an inflected smugness I don't really feel. 

Taylor nods, gaze wandering. "Good idea. Ask her out when she's smoked
up." 

I slam my locker shut. "Too bad you can't try that one on her," Taylor
jerks his chin toward Rhiannon, watching my face. "But she's too good 
to smoke weed, isn't that what she says?" 

"Shut up, man," says Sam, but I don't really care. I shrug. 

"She just says no." 



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