Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  "You can choose three of these to complete and then you may also make up all of your missing assignments for partial credit. It'll include a few hours of work, but if you're serious about keeping or improving your grade, this is your chance."

  The boy's eyes, brighter now with the purpose of reaching a goal that appealed to him, scanned the line of unfinished drawings as the teacher waited for a response. Offended by what his slowness did to her patience, the woman's lips flickered like an old film while the rest of her face remained as clear as it could be. Her mouth would be a calm line for one instant and then a frown for another, old negative emotions brooding - threatening to climb out of her and dominate with the aid of a stereotype her mind had already constructed to evaluate Vincent's behavior. "It that a yes or a no?" The neutral tone requested an answer.

  Hearing her, Vincent gave a soft nod as he examined his art, piece by piece. "Yeah, I'm uh- I'm just figuring out which ones I want to do." He shifted his weight to one leg and then changed it to the other as his decision became pressured by the length of the woman's patience.

  Once an answer had been given, neither surprised nor disappointed, a small hand, intricately detailed with age and different rings that made it difficult to know whether or not the woman had ever been married, returned to a black keyboard and proceeded to click a sequence of notes that failed to find a rhythm before a hand detached itself from the keys to reach for the mouse. The printer begrudgingly roused itself from its winter hibernation to perform a job that lacked any form of spontaneous creativity, taking someone else's work and simply spitting it back out again, regardless of its own opinion of it. When the printer had finished, spitting the paper out rather sharply, Vincent was holding two drawings. The teen was distracted from finding the third when the warm, freshly printed page was offered to him.

  "Here are your missing assignments and the grades you currently have."

  Not bothering to make a comment, a pale hand accepted the list of scores and red gashes of aching failure, and indiscriminately pulled one of his unfinished drawings into the group of papers that had collected in his arms. He returned to his designated seat and began to work in silence after retrieving a pencil from his backpack. Colored pencils came to join the basic tool, having been deemed well-suited for the task at hand. In the gap between this moment and the time the bell was called forth to awaken the school - officially ending the winter vacation - no other words were exchanged in the classroom.

  Sound would continue to fill the room until the end of the school day after the morning bell finished yawning out its announcement that school would begin in five minutes - stretching its vocal chords with an extended and somewhat lethargic "Bee-ee-eep." First came the music that would play and repeat until the second bell, and then arrived the sounds of laughter, tromping feet of forming crowds, and bright stories of what adventures had taken place over the two weeks of freedom, when no schedule had organized their hours and no instructor had chosen what events would occur at what minute and what lifelong lesson would be garnered from the brief experience. It was time to be organized again.

  Rodriguez was carried into the building with the throng, but broke away once he entered the drawing classroom, heading for Vincent's table as if it was his natural course. To others, it was a freak decision that was just as shocking as the first time it had been witnessed before the Winter break. There were whispers and rushed debates now, but deeper discussions would surface later once the room filled with the 'silence' that comes from 44 teenagers working like the 'diligent' and 'focused' students that they are, so that Rodriguez's behavior could be discussed with little risk of being overheard by the wrong people… or… the wrong person. Because, who in their right state of mind would purposely piss off First Vincent? You'd have to be insane to talk about it right now. Fear of the delinquent inspired patience.

  Vincent was interacting with Rodriguez as a handful of observant students watched in stunned awe, a little confused and a little thrilled by the excitement that was released as a taboo continued to be disregarded after it had been shattered and so obscenely desecrated.

  They were actually…smiling, and not only smiling, but joking around and, good lord, laughing like they were old friends. First's laugh was only supposed to be triggered by a bloodbath or a cry of agony. He wasn't supposed to be doing something so normal…it- it was just abnormal. It was weird. It was freakish, and that's why they stared. But eventually their stares were taken away by the teacher who stepped to the front of the classroom and asked for quiet.

  Vincent was snickering at Rodriguez after the jock had reacted to being welcomed with a "Hey Fat Ass, took you damn long enough to get your ass over here." Rodriguez had grumbled incoherencies and then nudged Vincent with his elbow and jokingly threatened to sit on him with his apparently large derriere to see if he could break Vincent like the skinny, runty toothpick that he was.

  "I dare you."

  "Class! Quiet down! You need to get used to the schedule again. Your vacation is over and finals are coming up - it's an important time for all of you and you're going to be getting pretty busy soon, so you need to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. You will be having a final for this class as well."

  The predictable: "What?" "Really?" "Oh hell no! On what? We haven't learned anything in this class!" "Argh! I have like four other finals!" "This is total bull sh-" came with the announcement.

  "Quiet!" The teacher reclaimed her authority and silenced the majority of unhappy students. Vincent had remained unchanged while Rodriguez had sighed with disappointment and fidgeted around in his seat as he frowned at the news.

  "Darn. I was hoping this class wouldn't have a final. …Oh well…I hope it's easy and we review enough to get a good grade. I can't remember anything."

  "Hm." Vincent tilted his head with an ambiguous shrug, not telling if he really had an opinion. He actually wanted the final, as did an equally mute sliver of the class.

  The teacher had gone back to her desk to fetch a stack of papers she began tossing onto tables for groaning teenagers to sluggishly reach for or swipe at, having the same amount of affection for the study guide as they had for an obese, malaria-filled mosquito. "We will go over this in the coming weeks, but for now I want you to get an idea of what you should expect. If you've been paying attention in class and if you take notes when I go over the study guide in the coming weeks, then you should do just fine. Think of it as an easy A." The grumbling quieted as she handed out more papers, nearing Vincent and Rodriguez's table. "There will also be a drawing portion-"

  "What?" A single outraged exclamation spoke for those who cursed in silence.

  "The drawing portion won't be difficult. It'll be relatively simple and on a small piece of paper. …Gosh you guys are sassy today! You just had two weeks of school off! Be grateful!" She slipped two study guides onto Vincent's table after pausing to give Rodriguez a questioning look. The woman retreated to the front of the classroom and told her students to put the study guides in their binders and to keep them safe. She wouldn't have extras for anyone if they lost the copy they had just been given. The school didn't have enough paper and ink to be able to afford to print out another forty plus copies for each class she had. Undoubtedly though, many of the study guides would be lost. It was just in the nature of the negligent teenager to lose things, regardless of whether or not they cared for the specific thing.

  Vincent was stuffing his study guide into his binder, having glanced over it. Rodriguez was still skimming the list of topics while half listening to the new project the teacher was explaining. He took out his binder and slipped the paper into an inner pocket, and discovered - upon giving more attention to the teacher - that the new project was a drawing of a hand incorporated into scenery or an object. It would be a detailed pencil sketch that should take up two class periods. Rodriguez failed to show enthusiasm. Vincent was, once again, neutral. They remained quiet until they had fetched their art supplies and begun to brainst
orm on a scratch piece of paper.

  The jock was hard at work, hunched over his paper, frowning as his imagination creaked and strained with the exertion he was making. Vincent's eyes gravitated to the walls and then to the ceiling, pondering as they passed random details. Then the red irises swept over the hunched blonde beside him and found the teen's drawing paper. "You can draw a flying ladybug with your hands as its wings."

  "No…no way. That's hard, and there only needs to be one hand." Rodriguez stopped working to grumble away some of his frustration while Vincent's attention had returned to the apparently fascinating ceiling. "I don't want to draw a ladybug. I'm sick of ladybugs…"

  Vincent cut him off with a forced sigh. "Draw the damn ladybug, Rodriguez. You can only draw lady bugs, anyway."

  "No. And no way if you ask that way." Rodriguez snapped back, nettled by the tone even though he knew it was fake.

  "Aw. Did I hurt poor Andy-Alex's sensitive feelings?" The sarcasm made Rodriguez wince, but he was more affected by the use of the mortifying nickname his half loving, half sadistic and twisted sister had given him. The years of abuse his name had sustained caused the corners of his mouth to droop.

  He growled through his frown. "Don't use that name."

  "Aw…Andy-Awex is sooo angwy wit' me."

  "And stop talking like I'm 2 years old."

  "Oh? You aren't?" Vincent couldn't postpone his laugh so he gave up on the taunting to chuckle off the influx of high spirits.

  Rodriguez suddenly scowled, and, without warning, a tan hand reached out and quickly scrawled a fat ball with wings and spots on Vincent's paper. Vincent watched as the shape formed, raising his brow at the boldness of the hand. Once the vandalism was complete, the smug teen grinned at the pale face that continued to show an expression of pretend shock.

  "There! There's your ladybug. Are you happy now?"

  Vincent stared for a moment. Then his arm shot straight into the air with an unnerving air of urgency, startling Rodriguez who gawked at the hand and the false expression that remained on Vincent's face.

  "What-? What are you doing?"

  Vincent kept his eyes round as he observed Rodriguez's nervous agitation. "I'm telling on you Rodriguez. I'm going to say 'Hey teach, this Fat Ass is bullying me. Look at what he did to my paper. He's such a delinquent.' I mean, look at what you did to my paper."

  "I'm not a delinquent." Rodriguez insisted with a mildly humored, crooked line shaping his lips.

  Black hair shook with the pale face, still maintaining the joke. "Such a delinquent. Such a bad, bad student. You ruined my artwork. I worked so hard on it too."

  "What? You hadn't even started it yet!"

  "You killed my creativity. I can't bring myself to start now that you hurt my feelings with all your bullying – because you are just so mean to poor little old me. Now I have to tell on you so I can get on with my life."

  In total bewilderment, the tan teenager shook his head and held out his hands to catch some measure of logic that might fall into them. "What are you even-?" He began, but Rodriguez suddenly sucked in his words, alarmed by the presence of the teacher who had been drawn to the table by the universal beacon for assistance - Vincent's raised and urgent hand. Green stared at Vincent and then the teacher, the jock's large body shrinking as his nervousness returned and continued to increase.

  Vincent's face had become a neutral mask again as he looked up at the questioning teacher. "Can I work on my other stuff so I can finish them off for the first part of the class, and then work on my hand project for the second part of the class? I don't have any ideas for the hand project yet, but I know what I want to do for the others."

  The teacher pursed her lips, considering the proposal. "I'd prefer it if you'd worked on your hand drawing for right now so you can finish it on time with the rest of the class."

  "I'll finish it on time." Vincent assured her.

  Her lips pursed again, examining his face. The woman gave in with a shrug and told the teen to do whatever he felt would work best for him, but she would take off points if the current project was turned in late. She glanced down at Vincent's paper and paused, tilting her head to look at the doodle.

  "But you've already started-" She stiffened, frowning menacingly at the doodle while Vincent and Rodriguez watched, confusion descending as they instinctively made sure their faces were relatively blank to preserve the right to claim that they were innocent of whatever crime had been detected. Irritation was evident on the aged face as the woman's mouth twisted into a snarl, but she maintained a calm tone, despite her aggressive expression. She straightened her thin shoulders and a long nail briskly tapped on the paper. "I won't stand to have inappropriate things drawn on my paper in my classroom. Do you understand that?" Her gaze was piercing.

  Vincent's spine had become stiff with surprise when the question was thrown at him, quiet as the voice was. "What?" Red flicked to the page, completely lost. Er… What's wrong with it? His eyes twitched when he looked up and the voice shot back at him.

  "You know what it is. Don't try this game with me. I know what it looks like."

  Both Rodriguez and Vincent were drowning at this point, with no clear idea of what was going on. Vincent rumpled his brow and stared at the paper. Slowly he turned it around.

  Mute hilarity filled his face, his grin stretching, gaping, as he held in his howl of laughter. The boy turned to Rodriguez, biting his lips to hold in the laugh as the blonde's confusion was worsened by Vincent's sudden change. "Your stupid ladybug… looks like a *#$ … "

  Snickers slipped out while horror consumed Rodriguez, and the teens' confusion shifted to the teacher instead.

  The brunt force of the confusion seemed to collide with her face as it suddenly scrunched into itself and drawn back by heavy lips. "You mean to tell me, that Alex drew this?"

  Both looked at her, one a little paler than usual, one close to exploding - bottling up an evil cackle as trembling shoulders struggled to hold back the humor his body wished to express.

  Vincent nodded, and then gulped in a breath to calm himself. "He drew on my paper without permission," he gasped out. "Such a delinquent- pff!" The teen crumpled into himself and hit his head on the table, fingers gripping and digging into the wood, as if he was in physical agony. More snorts and snickers forced their way out – leaving Vincent fully incapacitated, and Rodriguez was left with the job of clearing up the situation. He explained what had happened, giving the truth and exhibiting the shame he clearly felt now that his lack of drawing skills had actually created something so obscene.

  The teacher, equally embarrassed, apologized profusely. Meanwhile, Vincent has begun to complete his unfinished projects, snickering to himself from time to time as he sought his elusive composure. It took the teacher another minute to depart, after apologizing again to Rodriguez and giving him all the encouragement and comfort she could provide, but afterwards the teens were left to their own devices – which led to much teasing before the topic could be changed...

  …A formidable amount of teasing had to be endured by Rodriguez, for a span of ten painful minutes. Then the blonde spoke.

  "Have you figured out where you're going to be staying now?" Rodriguez squinted down at the fist he was sketching, destined to become part of a mountain range. Vincent's wrist froze before continuing to shade with a purple pencil he often exchanged for a dark blue, tilting his head and adjusting himself so that he seemed wholly engrossed in what he was doing in order to excuse his long delay.

  He took a breath and let it out quickly. "Same place." The pencil rushed back and forth over the paper, the friction building upon the settled color - instead of wearing it away as friction naturally should. "I uh- I'm still going to be staying where I am right now. The place I was looking into… The woman who was gonna rent it to me changed her mind when she found out how old I was."

  Rodriguez was a little surprised and asked why she had decided to do that and whether Vincent had done something to dissuade her fr
om letting him stay wherever he had wanted to stay.

  Vincent shrugged his shoulders restlessly and fidgeted, bringing his eyes closer to the paper. "Cuz um- Because I'm not a legal adult- She would have been responsible for me if anything happened… And it wouldn't be good for her… I mean, if I ended up being some drug dealer or something like that. It just wasn't in her best interests." Vincent continued to color while the jock seated beside him took a break from his own drawing to look at the pale teen. Quietly, he resumed his hand drawing.

  "Where…" Rodriguez hesitated, and then shoved the feeling aside when he found that it was ridiculous. "Where are you going to stay now? I mean…" He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

  Vincent didn't need anything more to help him understand what Rodriguez was getting at. "Same place, Rodriguez. I'm not going anywhere, and he- and that's okay for now." He snapped his mouth close as a 'yup' meant to reassure himself, threatened to jump out on its own.

  "You said you were staying with someone, right?"

  "Er-yeah-um…" Sighing again after this unique answer, Vincent took a moment to reflect on the developing bond that connected him to the blonde, evaluating the strength, the durability, the value… Rodriguez was a good friend…a selfless friend, who was interested in his wellbeing…

  The teen straightened a bit and then leaned over his paper. "Well, there aren't that many people I could be staying with…" Rodriguez didn't get the hint, though he glanced at Vincent and eventually stopped working altogether. Vincent followed the example to make himself more comfortable, spinning his pencil leisurely in his hand as his eyes remained on the table. "Jake's letting me stay with him. He offered before, but I didn't want to bother him or anything…" A hand shaded in a patch on the paper to make it darker. Then Vincent leaned back, sighed at the ceiling, relaxed his diaphragm, and looked at the bronze frame and the lenses that were directed towards him. "I like Jake. He's a good guy…really, he actually is. He just doesn't look like it. But, I mean, if you look at me, I don't look like a good guy- But Jake's letting me crash on his couch. All my extra stuff is fillin' up his –er, one of his closets. He's actually got a pretty decent place, and all. And the rats are happy to see me."