Bamboo

PLEASE CRITIQUE

Bamboo

Logan stared at his Pepto-Bismol infused paper heart that he had painstakingly cut out. It wasn’t half bad, a little jagged at places, but for a first attempt at using real scissors, not too shabby.

            The real problem was what was written on it:

YOU ARE BAMBOO

AND I WILL BE YOUR PANDA BEAR.

            “Aw, c’mon,” he muttered under his breath. It sounded like a sexual Valentine’s death threat. The fact that his handwriting looked like it had been written by someone who only writes in blood did not help either.

            His nursery rhyme gone badly was not a result of a lack of inspiration. Logan had a muse in the form of a very beautiful, raven-haired, charcoal eyed, Russian model-worthy, deaf sophomore named Irina. And he was pleased with his metaphor; she was like bamboo. But not in a weird, “I want to eat you way” (and he didn’t want to be compared to a panda bear either). No, she was like bamboo because she was unexpectedly strong, even though she appeared weak to the uneducated passerby. He just couldn’t figure out how to convey that into a way of asking her to the Valentine’s Day Dance.

            At this rate, he was sure Joey Daniels would win her. He could easily sign his request. He was only disabled in his legs, unlike Logan, who couldn’t even flick Joey the bird.

            That was another reason Logan was hesitant to ask Irina out. His hands. He suffered from a mild case of muscular dystrophy and motor dysgraphia, making his hands mottled and contorted. He didn’t have control of his hands, and it was nearly impossible for him to write or cut out paper hearts. This landed him at Seabreeze School for Physically Handicapped Young Adults. He didn’t mind it here; everyone had something wrong with them, so no one was an outcast. Besides, it made him feel grateful that the worst thing about his state was that he couldn’t write, and he had his computer for that. Other kids like Irina with her hearing loss and Joey with his paralysis didn’t have a substitute for their problems. But now was not the time to contemplate the tragedies of the world, or even his classmates. He needed a date.

            Opening his battered computer, Logan tried a few rough drafts. The caliber of the poems hadn’t improved. The only thing that did was the legibility. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

            His Velcro Spiderman watch beeped. 7:00. Breakfast time. He quickly threw on yesterday’s jeans and his dad’s Sexy Princess Leia t-shirt, and tiptoed out of his dorm so his roommate (or gorilla, he wasn’t sure), Peter, wouldn’t wake up.

            As he left Croxley Dorm, he could smell the familiar odor of bacon grease and melted Crisco. Logan trudged up the concrete stairs and pushed open the fingerprinted glass doors. There were already about thirty students milling around the buffet, and a dull murmur had already filled the small, dingy, cafeteria. Balancing his tray on his forearms, he clumsily reached for an apple. An extremely pale and veiny hand tapped his distorted and bent one. He looked up, and saw Irina. He automatically felt his cheeks burning and a gob of salvia forming his throat.

She quickly signed something. He knew enough sign language to know that she was asking him if he knew ASL. He held up his mottled hands for an answer. Smiling sympathetically, she took out a small whiteboard out of her canvas satchel, and wrote something in tiny, cursive script. She showed it to him. Nice shirt, Logan. U do Spanish HW?

            Unable to get over the fact that she was actually talking, well, writing to him outside of the classroom, Logan just stared at her. AND she was a Star Wars fan? Damn. Maybe he could write a sonnet about how he could be her Han Solo if she would be his Leia. Spanish homework? Could such a thing exist now that Irina was paying attention to him? He then remembered she was still waiting for a confirmation or denial, and replied with a jerky nod. Before Irina could continue the rather one-sided conversation, Joey-Freaking-Daniels with his gelled red hair and abundance of freckles wheeled up to her, and quickly signed something. Jealousy overtook Logan as he saw how easily and fluidly Joey communicated with her. Much to his surprise, however, she only gave him a forced smile and signed something back hastily, and turned her attention back to the fruit bowls. Joey dejectedly shrugged his shoulders and rolled back to his table. Irina hastily scribbled something down.

            He’s ALWAYS trying 2 get me 2 sit with him, even tho I always take a walk while I eat my breakfast. He knows that 2.  Sooo annoying  -__-

Logan opened his computer and typed

            Some guys just can’t take a hint.

Irina let out a small giggle, and wrote:

            Totally. He’s not rlly my type. Btw, we have Spanish 1st period. Wanna walk around campus w/ me and then go 2 class?

            Logan stood there, unable to answer. His granny smith rolled to the other side of the scratched up tray, and fell on to the ground, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Irina gave him a weird, uncertain smile, and wrote:

            I can lip read, u kno…

Shaking his head to get out of his paralysis, he quickly mouthed, “yeah, sorry, just zoned out for a sec. Sounds like a plan.” Irina gave him a gleeful smile, and trotted towards the smudged doors, her silky black ponytail bobbing behind her. Before he followed her out of the greasy dining hall, he slid his paper heart into the recycling bin. She was most definitely not bamboo. She was the entire Redwood National Park.

Or maybe he should stop comparing her to trees and stop trying to write poetry. Yeah, he’d try that. 

Author's Note

I really would like some feedback on this :)