Valkyrie

Valkyrie

Noah

 

            Monday, after seeing Ash pound away on her drums like that, fighting just isn’t the same.

            The meathead who’s currently whimpering in my headlock was going roid rage on me not ten seconds ago for looking at him wrong. Sure, he’s struggling and I’m keeping him in place, but there’s just no fun in it anymore. I don’t get the same adrenaline rush like I always do at the thought of pounding someone into the ground, at forgetting who I am for a few minutes. All I can do, really, is think of little Ash, the Ash I used to know.

            Ash and I were tighter than leather pants on Madonna before we turned eleven. Or rather, she turned pretty and I stayed “Monster”.  I remember our kickboxing lessons; every other day from four to eight, sometimes nine, at some old place on the corner of Lily Street. I don’t remember the name; it closed when we were twelve.

            Anyways, she was the best in the class, after me, of course. She only started because Jesse, the same blonde chick she’s best friends with now, used to bully her. After a few lessons and some teasing, Ash just went psycho on her and put her in the hospital for a few days. It got her suspended for two weeks, since the fight was in the playground. I still clearly remember the blood on her knuckles when she was done.

            Smash.

            Suddenly, my face is eating a nearby locker. I guess meathead got out from my headlock. I’m about to turn and punch his lights out, but just as quickly as he’s on top of me, he’s gone. Hearing grunts of pain, I look over to see Ash slamming his face into the floor repeatedly. Wonderful. I wonder what kind of names the guys’ll call me once they hear about me being saved by a girl?

            Once she’s done with him, Ash just stands up, dusts herself off, and walks away. I don’t get a chance to say thanks; I can only watch her tiny back disappear down the hall.

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            At lunch, I sit near the back with guys who just rolled out of bed to come get the free food at school. None of them mention that earlier today I didn’t have the balls to beat up a meathead too hopped up on s*** to do anything about anything.

            When Ash comes into the cafeteria surrounded by her posse of perfectly made up blondes and brunettes, a hush falls over the crowd. I don’t know what it is about them, but they put hung-over and socially awkward teenagers into coma-like states. I almost get up and go talk to Ash, but she glares over at me, shaking her head so minutely that only I notice. I’m trapped under her scowl now, though I didn’t do anything.

            To get that across, I glare right back. Her eyes become little slits she’s so focused on winning this staring contest. I don’t notice that half the cafeteria is following this exchange until she breaks her stare and practically runs over to the salad bar to catch up with her friends.

            I stand up and it seems like they’re all holding their breaths. Great; I can feel everyone’s stare boring holes into my back as I head for the exit, pulling out a packet of cigarettes as I go. I walk out too fast and knock over the girl coming into the cafeteria.

            When I reach out a hand to help her up, her grip is surprisingly warm and soft. While she’s dusting herself off, I take the opportunity to check her out. She’s not too tall, with light brown hair that touches her shoulders and tan skin that looks like she spends a little too much time in the sun �" but for her, it works.

            She stops fixing herself and I see bright green eyes blinking up at me. Beaming, I find myself sticking out a hand to shake, saying “Noah. Noah Black,” and, when she takes it, pulling her close enough to kiss. “Who are you?”

            A little glint comes into her eye as she beams right back. “Rebecca.”

            “Rebecca, you seem like a girl that likes to have fun…”

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            Tuesday morning, eight a.m., I find myself in a foreign bed, wrapped in the arms of… Rachel?

            The girl �" Reba?�"moans in her sleep and rolls over. I try to sneak out of bed unnoticed, but she blinks open her eyes. “Morning,” I whisper.

            She grins lazily, whispering back, “Morning, Noah.”

            Pulling on my pants, I try to explain my one-night stand policy to �" Renee? --, “Yeah, um… Rochelle? I kind of have this rule about not sleeping with a girl more than one night in a row. So… got to go.”

             I make a fast break for the door, but not before she yells out, “It’s Rebecca. And that rule’s f*****g stupid, just so you know.”

             I cringe inwardly; forgetting a girl’s name is number one on the list of no-no’s. Oh, well; she’ll get over it. Or she’ll tell all her friends about it. Either way, it’s out of my hands now. And oddly enough, I don’t remember my hands ever touching her. Wow, I must have been hammered.

            Walking home, I pass by Ash’s house and can’t help wondering what she looks like in the morning. I snort out loud; she pours on so much makeup at school that without it she probably looks like the bride of Chucky.

           And yet, I still can’t help wondering if her eyes have a little sparkle in them, like they used to when she was so happy.      

           Eh �" they’re most likely dull and flat. So are mine; but unlike hers, mine'll clear up after a nice shot of vodka.