The Passed Note Issue 4 June 2017 - Page 33

Amanda Kabak

The Parasite of Desire

Jack Schultz and Donny Haversham shoved me in this locker right after lunch, and now, a period and a half later, I need to facilitate my release or be further embarrassed by peeing in my pants. If I hadn’t had that Coke with my rubbery hot dog and cold tots, I’d be relatively comfortable—the one benefit of my persistent puniness is that these confines are not all that confining. Not only that, but I have my cell phone, which will save me from having to shout for help like the first time this happened. At the end of lunch, though, my phone was running on the last fumes of power, so my window of opportunity to do something is closing fast.

I’ve let this incarceration go on this long already because being in here is kind of pleasant. I’m not forced to navigate the school’s hallways, ducking between the hulking bodies of my peers or dodging the poisonous clouds of their taunts. They are so sure and vocal about everything having to do with me: wimp loser fudge-packer know-it-all. That’s the most ironic thing. If only I were the know-it-all they accuse me of being, but the truth is, I know practically nothing. Not even if I’m the faggot they’re convinced I am.

I’ve got a text queued up to my best friend, Shane, but I can’t get myself to send it. Shane’s got a girlfriend, which I hate to admit has anything to do with why I can’t let loose this cry for help, but there it is. Shane is interested in little other than getting to the next base with Denise Carvetti. Not only that, but over the summer, he sprouted hair and shot up three