Simon and Marcy | Teen Ink

Simon and Marcy

April 26, 2016
By destielrises BRONZE, Chesterfield, New Jersey
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destielrises BRONZE, Chesterfield, New Jersey
3 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Author's note:

I had to write a realistic narrative for a Composition class.

The author's comments:

That's it; it's a short story.

Simon sprinted through the torn-apart halls, pushing himself to make it to the exit. When he reached it, he yanked the rust enclosed door open and felt the sun kiss his pale skin.
Never More High School.  The name of the school fully describes what it is capable of.  The old run-down school with mold creeping up the walls, slowing taking control of the school one square inch at a time, rust encasing the toilets and sinks, leeks in every ceiling square available.  Simon’s school was decomposing. 
But, today, today was the day! The last day before summer officially begins, the last day of B’s and C’s on report cards, the last day of Never More High School. Simon thought.  Well, I have one more year in this stinking school before I’m finished with it. 
Simon was strolling gleefully down the dead lawn. It was his lunch period and everyone had to eat outside since the cafeteria’s been under “repair” since Simon started going to this school. 
Simon arrived to the eating area with his vegetarian sandwich in hand, thinking, Man! I’m glad it’s warm out today! but then he stopped in his tracks. Something seemed … off.
As he walked over to his group of friends, sitting in their midst was a girl. Now, Simon’s never seen this girl before, though she was pretty, but not extraordinarily gorgeous.  She had hair so black that it made darkness look bright that went down in a curtain to her waist,  skin that looked like it’s the first time it ever saw the sun, and her eyes looked like two moons;  Silver, gigantic, and breathtaking. But when you saw her, you knew this was no ordinary girl. She had a bad vibe to her and just radiated trouble.
“Hey Simon!” Simon’s best friend, Mark, called him over.  He and Simon have been friends longer than they both could remember and he was the only friend Simon had growing up.  “Meet Marcy.”
Hmm. Simon thought. So that’s the girl's name. It suits her.
Simon slowly walked over and sat next to Mark.
“So, I-uh- I-m-my n-name’s S-Simon,” Simon stuttered, which made him upset. Every time he even spoke to a girl his own age, his brain thought it was funny to make him look like a fish out of water.
“Hi S-Simon,” she purred. She had an accent that made her sound like a cat. “My name’s Marcy. So I heard that you were in a band. Bass guitar, am I correct?”
“Y-yes,” Simon choked out. Up close, he could only describe her as cat-like. She looked long and lean with lazy silver eyes. I know it’s crazy, Simon thought, but she reminds me of the vampires in the myths. “Our band name’s Th-the V-vampire Slayers.” It changed, like, every other day, though. Simon thought glumly.
“Well, Simon,” Marcy studied her nails and then glanced up at him, her eyes filled with hatred. “Why don’t you tell the group about your secret.”
“Uhh,” Simon questioned. “I don’t have any secrets.”
“Well,” Marcy announced. “That’s a lie.” She stood up and got in Simon’s face. “Little boy with your little secrets living in a little game. Because you. Are. A. Nobody. Stupid little boy. So naive. Why don’t you just tell everyone about how you’re a demon. You’re mom hates you. You’re sister is away becaues she can’t handle looking at you. And you’re dad…” Simon could feel her lips against his ear now, brushing ever so lightly against it as she spoke. “I heard he killed himself because he couldn’t deal with you.”
That did it. Oh, that was crossing the line, and both Simon and Mark knew it.
Marcy backed away from Simon with a scowl as if he just killed her dog when Mark shouted, “Uhh, BRO. I THINK MANDY BROKE UP WITH CLARK. COME HELP ME TRY TO THINK OF HOW TO ASK HER OUT.”
Simon took the chance to escape. Mark ushered him over to the side of the school building where they could talk without having to worry about being overheard.
“Dude, what’s her problem?” Simon asked. “What did I do wrong?”
“Uhh, I heard she’s a runaway,” he answered. “Principal adopted her. Heard her mom died and her dad is a really important businessman from a foreign country, explaining the accent, but he couldn't tolerate her.”
“But dude! Why did she target me?” Simon wailed. “WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN YOU INSTEAD? WHY CRUEL WORLD?!”
“I love you too, bro,” he announced with sarcasm. “But I think you were the easy target. She’s the principal’s new daughter, so getting in the records wouldn’t be difficult for her. And as for targeting you,  I mean dude, you’re a nerd.”
“Whatever. I’ll straighten things out before the party tonight.”
“By which you mean,” he laughed, “before she can ruin your rep.”
“Basically,” Simon noted. “See you later, dude.”
“Yeah, bruh,” he called as he ran away.

*** *** ***

After lunch, Simon decided to skip Pre-Calc, his last period, to see if he could hunt down Marcy. And sure enough, standing outside smoking a cigarette, stood the one and only.
“Hey,” Simon mumbled as he walked over next to her, trying not to choke on the smoke billowing from her lips and covering her in smoke, making her look mysterious and dangerous, both of which she was.
“What do you want, ya runt?” she snarled as she took a long drag from her cigarette. “I thought I got rid of ya earlier.” Now that she wasn’t trying to look good, Simon could see the true her. She had streaks of mascara running down from her silver moon eyes to meet her hollowed-out cheekbones, her hair was a ratty ball of tangles looking as if she yanked and pulled at it in a fit of rage, which was also probably true. And even he posture was defeated. She was hugging her stomach with one hand, defeatedly, as if she was Atlas, the Titan from mythology, forever holding the impossible burden of the sky and the stars. She looked like a lost puppy, gone from her parents and everything she thought of as safe and normal.
“I want to apologize,” Simon mumbled, now a bit more confident in talking to her then most girls. “I’m sorry for, uh,” Uh-oh, Simon thought. I don’t know what I’m saying sorry for. “I - uh- I’m sorry for, uhhh-”
“Being perfect?” she volunteered. “Acting as if you don’t have a care in the world? Not caring about people like me? Strutting around as if you and your stupid clique OWN THE SCHOOL?”
“Uhh,” Simon started. “Yeah. I’m sorry for that.”
“Well, not accepted,” she sniffled.
“I- uh, I know about your parents,” Simon confessed.
“YOU WHAT?” Marcy howled as she flung the cigarette onto the concrete and stomped on it with her Stiletto heels.
“I know about how your mom died and your dad doesn’t- uh- how he left,” I blurted out. “But I can relate. My dad died when I was young and I barely remember him. And my mom, well, she’s distant. And, like you said earlier, my sister left for college and doesn’t visit.”
She looked at Simon with wide eyes, as if she was deciding if Simon was lying or not. Then she did the unexpected: she ran over to him, flung her pale arms around his frail frame. She was about a head shorter than he was, and she had his shirt soaked within a few minutes.
“I-it’s not fair!” she wailed into his stomach. “I-it’s so hard and n-no one understands!”
Simon was not used to pretty girls sobbing into his shirt, so he improvised in the situation. He stroked her head and held her there for as long as she would let him.
When she finally did pull away, she wiped her red nose on the sleeve of her black shirt, smearing it with snot, which Simon was kind enough not to point out.
“Thanks,” she whispered as she looked him in the eyes. “I needed that.”
“I know,” Simon responded. “So, uh, I’m having a party tonight and I was wondering if
you-uh- I- uh… ” The stuttering returned.
“If I would be your date to your own party?” she asked with a grin.
“M-maybe.”
“To answer your question, yes,” she declared. It felt as if a giant weight was lifted off of Simon’s shoulders. Smiles revealed themselves on both people and butterflies flew in both stomachs.
“See you then?” Simon asked as the bell for the last day of school rang and people started hurrying down the lawn towards freedom.
“See you then,” she answered as Simon gave her his address and phone number.
As Simon hurriedly ran to his locker to claim his bag before the janitors cleared everything out of the lockers, Simon smiled. He felt like he had never felt before; light, weightless, free. He remembered that only this morning that Marcy had beaten him down until he was broken, but now look at him. He was grinning ear to ear, awaiting tonight when he would get to see her again. He decided that he would never again put people underneath of him, because they were all people. Everyone deserved a friend. As Simon walked home, he couldn’t help but hope that Marcy, his new girlfriend, was going to stick with him forever, a permanent reminder of a bad situation, but a good decision.
The End.



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