I See You

Lyka

Would you believe me if I told you I was lying?

Most people would, and most people are right to do so. The tricky part is figuring out which lie is actual truth: the lie itself, or the lie that the lie was a lie. Either way, people don’t believe me. And again, they’re probably right to do so. Even I sometimes don’t know if I’m lying or not. I’ve got a special thing, they said. I don’t know what they call it, but it’s a fluffy word for lunatic. I don’t really care for using it as an excuse, so my wild imagination masquerades as lies. I get into a lot of trouble for it, but I kind of like it. Mostly the attention I get from it.

Nobody bats an eye when you’re nice or prim and proper. Nobody spends hours saying good things about a person. People are full of purple, the color of pride. It’s purple that makes people sociable beings. Talking about people behind their backs fuels their purple, and people like fueling up on purple.

I like being the center of attention for people’s purple. It makes me feel, well, purple.

Like age, people come in different shades of purple. Everyone’s got some purple, though some hide it better than others. I’ve noticed that most people younger or about the same age as me have darker purple, because it makes them feel good to know that someone in their age level is a bigger f**k up than them. Some older people already know that they’re better than me,so their shades never evolve. Mature people mix it with some white, you know, purity and understanding. Since I’m younger, they’d try to empathize.But no matter how much white you try to put, it’ll still technically be purple.

I’ve told some people about this theory, but none really seemed to get me. And don’t say I didn’t try, believe me, I’ve told everybody. I’ve transferred schools more than twelve times, and I’m just seventeen. Friends, teachers, counselors, they’re all so…purple. So I stopped talking about it, called it all a joke, contributed it to my pathological need for attention, whatever the f**k that means. I’d rather be labeled a liar than crazy.

That, I think, is my greatest lie.

* * * * *

My dad wasn’t always around the apartment, he was a real busy guy. He’s actually the main reason why I don’t stay in one school for a long time, we travelled a lot. Well, two other times was my fault. But he could care less. I already had a perfect sister five years older than me who was hella successful in business stuff. No matter how many times she explains what she does, I never really got it. Angel (I kid you not, that’s her name) stepped up as a mother figure, though not a very good one. Ever since she started working, she was busy too. None of them were there to wish me luck on my first day of school in, yet again, a new school.

This school was the only school that didn’t mind my delinquent history. They didn’t care that I had a thing. Their tuition was also cheap. It wasn’t a very big school, and it was just fifteen minutes away from the apartment. The uniforms were tacky; the skirt was too long and the red necktie didn’t match at all. So I altered them to fit my taste. The school required black shoes, which probably meant dress shoes. Taking advantage of the lack of specification, I put on my black sneakers. Rule book says I can’t have piercings, so I let my hair loose. So I look different, what’s the worst that could happen?

Skipping ahead to the end of my day, I was able to cross the fifteenth thing on my bucket list: get in trouble on the very first day of school.

The guidance counselor’s office looked like the set of a feminine wash commercial. The walls were pure yellow, every table had a plastic flower, and hung on every wall were motivational posters with generic quotes and bible verses. As for the counselor, she was a young and stern pretty shade of lavender.

“I’m sorry, dear. Rules are rules for a reason. Everybody has to follow them, regardless of who you are. I’m sorry but you’re going to need two hours of detention.”

“So there’s no warning system up here?”

“For the first offense, yes, but you violated two offenses in just one day.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. Won’t it be passed minors’ curfew or something by the time detention ends?”

“I can call your parent or guardian to pick you up.”

“That won’t be necessary, I can walk home; I live near.”

“I will still notify your parents of today’s incidents.”

“Huh, good luck.”

All of a sudden, her phone rings. She gestures me to be quiet as she takes the call.

“Hello? Oh, hi honey…I’m still at work…huh? That’s today? But I have to…okay, okay, I’ll make it, just give me ten minutes and I’ll be there…okay, love you to sweetie.Lyka, excuse me for a moment.”

She left for about five minutes before calling me into a classroom where this tall ass teacher was checking papers. She talked to him sweetly, her face blush red. She kissed his cheek before leaving me alone with him. He was busy, and boy do I like annoying busy people.

“Are you and that counselor dating or something?” I asked.

“Not this again. Shush kid, I’m working.”

“Okay…it’s Lyka by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah…what’s your name?”

“Uh. I’m Sir Andrew. You can call me Sir Drew, okay?”

“Okay…why not Sir Andy?”

“No. Sir Drew.”

“Fine…I don’t have a nickname, though I’d like one. Should I go with Ly or Ka?”

“You’re not going to stop talking no matter what I tell you, huh?”

“I can try.”

“Please do so.”

And just like that, back to awkward silence.

.

.

.

For a couple of minutes.

“So are you like half American or something?”

“Irish. I’m half Irish.”

“Cool, cool…so can you do the accent?”

“I grew up here, so no. Okay?”

“That’s nice. You know, this city is pretty big but I think I might like it here. I mean, the weather is scorching and the pollution and traffic are terrible but I reallythink it’s got some character—”

“Kid, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things. That’s why I’m here.”

His face was exhausted and annoyed, which was something I normally don’t care for. But something about him was so…off. His exhaustion was more of an emotional type, but not exactly melancholic. Somewhat dead and cold…distant. He looks like he hasn’t smiled or cried in years. His blank expression was rare, something you’d only see in old people who just wake up to wait for the self-destruct buttonto naturally press itself. But he seemed way too young for that.

He was numb.

I sat there quietly, watching him read paper after paper, writing down things with a pink pen. He wasn’t just skimming over them like most teachers do. You can tell that he’s been doing this for years, dedicated.

“Why are you here?” he asked all of a sudden. I jumped out of my chair out of shock.

“It’s a long story.”

“You have two hours’ worth of detention, I’m sure you have time.”

“Your girlfriend Ms. Shirleen knows why, you can just ask her.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she has a boyfriend.”

“How do you know? She’s really flirty with you.”

“I didn’t say they were happy.”

“Touché.”

“And her name is Shirley. Everyone knows that, so I’m guessing you’re new here.”

“Yup.”

“So what’s a new student doing in detention on the very first day of school?”

“Well…I pulled the fire alarm.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding his head.

“My first class was supposed to be here, you know. But I got caught by the fuzz. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Is that it?”

“You think there’s more?”

“You did say that it was a long story.”

“I just thought it was funny. That’s it.”

“Bullshit.”

“How are you a teacher again?”

“Gluing red coloring food-stained sanitary napkins on the faculty bathroom stall is funny. Setting fire to a bag of dog poop in the teacher’s lounge is funny. Paying a group of reggae musicians to follow the principal for an hour is funny. Pulling the fire alarm? That’s just lame.”

“Whoa, did any of that stuff really happen?”

“Why did you pull the fire alarm?” he asked sternly.

He was dead serious.

“Um, well, uh, I live a fifteen minute walk away from this place so I thought I had a lot of time. I didn’t, I was running late. So I brisk walked out of the apartment. It was a busy day and there was a lot of people walking the streets besides me, but there was this stranger who I felt was following me specifically. He was still behind me when I made my way inside the school. There was a fire alarm nearby, so I panicked and pulled it.”

I looked up to see his expression. It was still blank.

“He had a polo shirt under his hoodie, so I assumed he was a student here too. I know it was silly to think that he was following me. I mean, he was probably late too, right?Anyway, the security guard caught me and here I am!I should’ve just gotten a warning, but apparently my skirt’s too short. So two offenses in one day, and on the very first day nonetheless. It’s a record, don’t you think?”

“Why did you think he was following you?” he asked, completely ignoring my babble.

“I’m just overly paranoid, and I’ve got an ego. Attention w***e, am I right?” I said playfully. He didn’t buy it.

“If you say so…”

“He was red.”

“Pardon?”

“He…was burning red.”

I was anticipating some disbelief or a follow up question, but there was none. His face was completely blank. His attention turned to his vibrating phone, which he picked up immediately. Maybe he wasn’t interested from the start. Maybe he didn’t believe me.

“You said you lived fifteen minutes away?” he asked, still looking at his phone.

“More or less.”

“Well, you better hurry up then. Curfew for minors is at six and you have fifteen minutes to get home.”

“Wait, you’re letting me go?”

“No. Ma’am Shirley texted, she said she’ll be out another hour, but I said I’d only be here ‘til 5:45, and that’s now. You can stay here and wait for her, or just leave. If I were you, I’d do the latter.”

“But my detention is supposed to be two hours long.”

“That’s what Ma’am Shirley said, but that’s none of my business. You’re not my problem, kid.”

“Okay!” I said excitedly as I got up from my chair.

I watched him fix up his things neatly and put on his brown blazer. He sleeked some of his hair back, away from his forehead. He pulled out a handkerchief from his purple polo’s front pocket, wiping some sweat from his face.I see now what that guidance counselor saw in him. I’d cheat on my boyfriend too if the other guy looked like that: sophisticated, cool, and hot without even trying. He was also tall as f**k, which most women were into.

“Get out, I’ll lock the door.”

“Thanks again, Sir.”

“Thank you is a very valuable expression, kid. You can’t just throw it around like that.”

“But I really mean it.”

“Nothing to thank me for; you were just lucky today.”

“You know, for a guy walking around in purple, you’re actually pretty white.”

“Because I’m half Irish...?”

“Not what I meant.”