The Guy in the White T-Shirt

“Christian Michael are you out of bed yet?”
He was late for school again; he was sick and tired of hearing his mother nag him every time he was. And, it happend a lot.

Getting out of bed, he never got any sleep; again.
He dragged himself out of bed, exhaling loudly.
He covered half his face with the palm of his hand, looking in the bathroom mirror.
He grew out his light brown hair, flipped it on one side to cover part of his face.
A soft grudge look is what he was aiming for. A tortured artist.
His style to the eye, seemed plain and simple, but on the inside he was all that and much more. He seemed black and white when really his mind and his soul was so full of colour.

He didn’t see the point of the same routine every day. There was no point for tears, when no one could hear him anyway. No one could see him. So he never made a sound.

Walking back into his room, he changed into a v-neckline in a matter of seconds.
His walls were covered with different bands, and all sorts of different types of art depending on his moods. They all meant something. Looking at them, kept him going; there was nothing else to look forward to. All his thoughts, his feelings, and his moods doodled on paper.

He opened the closet door, and grabbed his guitar, zipped it up and headed out the door “Bye Mom.” He rarely could ever eat when he was so sleep deprived so breakfast was no option in the morning.

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“Melina Brooke are you out of bed yet?”
It was almost time to walk to the bus stop; if she missed the bus she’d have to stay home instead of going to school. Her parents weren’t willing to drive her when they had to go to work; feeding a family of five wasn’t as easy as it was in the Hollywood movies.

She got out of bed; already for the day. Laying down kept her sane. She looked out her window; the sunrise peeking through the apple tree in the front yard. Being at home felt like a prison; but hiding out in her bedroom was the only sanctuary she had until she left for school. At least school gave her oxygen, and a little more life.

Being 17 was a hard time for her; she re-read a poem she wrote last night before leaving for school. She put all her material in a binder to keep them safe; she didn’t like writing in a diary or a journal like the other kids.
Every page meant something. Looking at them, kept her going; there was nothing else to look forward to. All her thoughts, her feelings, and her moods doodled on paper.

She checked herself in the bathroom mirror. Her dirty blonde hair darkened into a tone of light brown. She fixed the side part of her bangs, and any frizz that suddenly stood out when she was laying down.

She exhaled loudly before putting her headphones in and heading out the door.
“Bye Mom.” She didn’t like eating breakfast at home, no one else at the kitchen table but her. At least in the cafeteria everyone ate together. She didn’t give her mom a kiss goodbye; she didn’t want to cry what was the point when no one would understand why?Most of the time she didn’t understand why.

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Like every morning Haskett greeted every student, gave each of them a fist bump or a high five. It really helped the kids smile in the morning, look forward to something when they got to school. Most of them looked forward to it more than others; Melina was one of the students who really looked forward to that greeting.

On her way to her locker paying no attention who she was bumping into she dropped her mp3 player. She picked it up and the end of a guitar hit her on the side of the face making her take a step back. A guy in a v-neckline t-shirt softly touched her arm as she covered the side of her face from the shock more then from the pain.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. Are you okay?” She nodded in silence, almost giggling at the thought of how stupid she probably looked. She wanted to cry, this was not how she wanted to start a conversation with him.
When he knew she was doing okay, he continued on and walked away. The guy with the guitar didn’t know her, but she sure did know him.

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After Christian’s last class he went straight to the art class for the last time that day. Students started loading up the buses to go home. He wanted to speak to the art teacher about a few art pieces for that semester, he wanted to start working on them more at home then in class. An excuse to not arrive to school. He pulled up the strap over his shoulder to keep his guitar close to him; he still could not believe he actually hit a girl he probably looked so stupid to her.

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Melina forgot her house keys in her locker again; almost running down the hall she opened her locker door and grabbed her keys as fast as possible hoping the bus driver was a little patient to wait. She grabbed an older lunch container that she was suppose to bring home a week ago, locked her locker once again. The wind of her quick walk made the art on the wall crinkle from her breeze. On her way back to the bus, she took a peek inside the art class taking a glimpse and there he was speaking to her art teacher…
Maybe she could talk to him tomorrow or the next day?

She knew that she was different. A church girl who wore only skirts, and had a lot of unresolved issues. But she stood out like the rest, and she kind of enjoyed it.
Most of the kids around school like to blend, but not her.
And she kind of figured neither did he.

She wanted to so bad, talk to the guy with the guitar who ironically smacked her in the face with. Under her breath she started to laugh imagining how bad he must’ve felt. She shook the thought because no one would care much about that… He stood out like she did; she saw him. She wanted to so badly speak to him, but being rejected again to befriend someone new? Yeah, that was a joke.

She heard a honk outside and shifted to the exit door running to the bus before patience was running out. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

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“Mom, what if he doesn’t like me or just makes fun of me?”

It had been a week since Melina bumped into Christian.
She didn’t know his first name, or what classes he took; all she knew was where she’d lay her eyes on every morning before breakfast in the hall lobby.

She went to all her teachers of that semester, spoke to a few teachers she had over the years; and even asked a few she bonded with. And she couldn’t get any extra information past the secondary private student policy, it didn’t matter if she was best friends with the principle, she still wouldn’t get anything…

As Melina went to her weekly guidance appointment, she asked one of the substitute guidance counselor’s who taught a special education class; about him. He was very trustworthy and she had no doubt that she could get some information out of him.
She described Christian in every detail that she knew how;
“- And he wears this white v-neckline t-shirt, you never see him with anyone, and he always brings his guitar everywhere he goes…”
The teacher looked at Melina and paused looking above her, trying to put a name to the description. After a few minutes of silence he snapped his fingers;
“Ah, your talking about Mr. Bruneau, can’t remember his first name for the life of me; and I don’t believe anyone can let you know about the student policy unless your a family member or relative. It’s all I can give you Melina, I’m sorry I can’t help you more!”

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She slouched in her seat on the bus, fogged up the window next to her. Her music she was listening to was loud as possible, but the kids on the bus were even louder. No one could hear her crying out now, not one. She stayed silent looking out her fogged up window.
A small tear fell down her flushed cheek; I lost my chance, of all the chances in the world… I couldn’t just say one word to him? Not one? I had to just be a coward and chicken out? Who cares, he probably would have forgotten about me anyways, I’m not that special like some of the girls are around here…

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Melina got home before her brother and sister did; so for an hour or so it was only Melina and her mother. Melina closed the front door quietly, with the screen door only shutting loudly which made everything else she was feeling…worse. She dropped her bag next to her shoes and went straight to her room. Before her mom could ask, Melina had already shut her door. Mom’s always know.

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Heidi knocked on her daughter’s door, already slowly opening it.
“Lina? Can I come in?”
Melina turned her back and cuddled with whatever was on her bed at the time, trying to hold in anymore tears. She held onto her pillow so tight and clenched her teeth holding in any emotion. Holding it in made her all the more emotional. She wanted to tell her mother everything, but how pathetic would that be when she didn’t even know the guy?
“No…” she whimpered.
Heidi sat on the edge of her bed and put her hand on her daughter’s leg to comfurt her and Melina let out “I’m so pathetic, Mom.”

Heidi held her teenaged daughter and put her fingers through her hair, curling any frizz around her finger, and rubbing her back.
Heidi smurked;
“You never got the chance to talk to the guitar guy who hit you upside the head?”
Melina got out of her mother’s arms and stood above her;
“Mom, that’s not funny; and it was an accident I wasn’t paying attention.”
More tears started to fall “What if… What if we became best friends Mom?
Or what if he was like my boyfriend for life – or we sang together at lunch with his guitar or something? There was something there, he was different and I blew it.
I blew my only chance.”
Heidi gently guided her daughter to sit down and lay her head again her chest.
“You know something, you were always the most sensitive in the family – out of everyone you care the most. You don’t know this guy, but because you lost your chance to ever speak to him; you feel like your heartbroken or let someone down. You know your very special Cheeka.” Heidi wiped her eyes, and moved her daughter’s hair out of her damp face; and whispered “Maybe one day you two will be friends, and it will all work out.”
Melina huffed at her mom and said; “Yeah right, like that would ever happen; I have the worst luck in the world Mom.” Heidi kissed her forehead, stood up and held the door in her hand and said “…And your not pathetic, I don’t ever want to hear that from you again.”

She will never forget being in a crowd with so many people, and only seeing the guy in the white t-shirt. He stood out to her, and she’ll never know why she felt so close to him; a longing. Who was she to know, she was only a teenager?
All she knew was, she was a sensitive girl who knew nothing about what she felt that day…
Melina never did tell anybody about the day she met the boy that accidentally hit her with his guitar. It wasn’t long before she hid it in the little box in the corner of her heart and packed it away. Because truly no one will ever understand why this meant so much to her, because she didn’t know why either. All she knew was that to her, he was the chance she never took. The guy in the white t-shirt.



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