One Chance to Feel Safe

Still amazed our high-school prom is on the roof. Renovations 3 years in the making finally complete, last week. The school staff were itching to put money, ill-advisedly spent into action. Too bad the principal who set this is motion wasn’t here to experience it. The vice principal took her place. The first graduating class to experience this, best believe entitlement flew through the roof. The student body president who graduated last year, set up a construction help comity injunction with school staff and union workers. Hoping they might bear the fruits of their labor. Safe to say this opportunity was made specifically for us.  The venue is more modern that 740 park ave in Manhattan. Even students who didn’t plan on going are changing their minds. Picture this Derek who skips school, got expelled and living with his single mother of 4. Took up a part-time job to make enough money in time. Spot light now mines, red and blue lights, shine. Stilettos and shoes dance on marble floors. Music vibrated out of them upwards into the stars. Suits no ties, well dress, watches and gold necklaces about 150k worth of clothes and accessories alone, in here. Crowds to swim through. Pale in comparison as I walked over to the one that said yes. My one and only chance to be here.

Without her, wouldn’t want to be seen here. She turns around awkwardly. Just the same as me. Here, she isn’t meant to be. The glamor indoctrinated us. This place is something out of a palace. Almost good enough to exalt us. Glowing skin, platinum engraved ring, hair in an Afro, untouched. Echoing steps silence my heart as I walk to her, I’ve been chasing a dream for a while. The color red never looked so good, she didn’t even dress to impress. Although music is the obstacle keeping our minds apart. Body language  chained our hearts together. 5 steps away. Felt her hear race, finally no longer alone, a recognizable face. Smiles, face to face, I’m thinking what she’s thinking now, feeling what she’s feeling.

I can’t help but, stare at him head to toe. Never Seen him so well put together. Standing out even in this atmosphere. Took his sweet time to walk to me, probably just as nervous as I am. I want to hold his hand. Looking deep into eyes that are looking deeper into me. Before I had a chance to say it he’s already reaching for my finger tips. Always gently aggressive. The way he reads my mind, impressive. Suppose to be home tonight  catching up on sleep. How did I let him get to me. To think we would be here. The road unclear forcefully going down memory lane as he pulls me to dance.

As long as I can remember people counted on me. Not sue what is was but, took on responsibility comfortably. At eight cooked the food on my family’s plate. Ten went to the senior center to visit my grandma, months later ended up volunteering. Fourteen all my home girls inspired to be me. Fifteenth champion of the debate team. Seventeen freelance writer for a magazine. Now at eighteen so much depends on me. Never free, trapped by obligations. Worst yet not to many people who understand me. Put up on a pedestal or lassoed to be dragged down. Hard to express myself even when writing. Forced to be everything I’m not. Just wanted to help, sadly it feels like no one can help me.

Then us meeting came to be. I put my head on his chest, he moves it to where his heart beats. My spirit released floats up to watch us dancing. Nothing more than a slow rock back and forth. Only enough attention for a tiny circle. Everything else turns to nothing expect for whats under the spotlight. With you I am at peace, floating a bit off my feet, melt my stress. Open heart confessions. I hate the things closest to me. If you know that you know me and he knows me. What’s on his mind. Look up to him as he’s turning his head. what is he looking at. Ms. Bethany smiling.

Aww youth, look at my favorite student. I don’t know who the young man is but, I’ve never seen her so relaxed. I guess life really does happen out of know where. When everything came crashing down. Ms. Bethany watched over us. We were the first to go. When summer comes, the sheet of ice over the lake cracks as it melts. The roof of the building unstable, under the weight of the students, teachers, chaperons, equipment, tables, food, chairs, granted and marble, it fell.

Turns out the money ill-advised spent meant, that they simple underestimated the project. The student comity was formed to help with constructed under pressure of the principal under pressure from investors at the board of education. Doesn’t matter now. We are all falling weightless. They say during times of crisis true characters have no choices but, to show themselves. Even as falling glass, chunks of rocks cutting my skin underneath my suit, both of my eyes stayed locked onto you. Eleven stories, seven more to go. For the future no hope. Red and blue lights, stilettos, shoes, lobster, crab, champagne and blood. Music still played as we fell. Suits no ties, watches and gold. Mangled limbs, lifeless bodies. In this moment, the last one before we go. Astonish by how you too, never took your eyes off me. Three stories left. Glad I had one last chance to pull you close and smile. Face to face. In life I always second guess the people who say they love you. Right now it’s unquestionable. I see the reflection of me looking back at you, in your eyes. One story left. I don’t want to die.

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