"THE ROSE SCENTED TRACT..."

It’s Friday afternoon, the beginning of May, and school is out for the week. Instead of going home, I’m walking in the Park, Elliot Park is three blocks from the high school and a block from my house. The Park is oval - shaped with a small pond in the center. Strolling along, I come upon a tall tree. Coming up for a closer look, at chest level, I’m met by a carved heart, “Michael + Sarah Forever” written in the center. I trace the letters with my fingers then dispiritedly drop on the grass beside the tree, fighting away renewed thoughts of Rozanne in an attempt to stay focused. Kia Swartz’s tract is open in my hand. I read through the tract searchingly. I then back closer to the tree, shutting my eyes gently as if to sleep, leaning against the tree and resting my head against its trunk.

Back in January, during third period, I was in English class with Roz. She sat in the desk in front of me. Her name is Rozanne Barker but everyone calls her Roz or Rozzy. I knew her ever since seventh grade. Even then I was the prisoner of her beauty. But that day in January we were taking notes as Miss Kippen lectured on Julius Caesar when she turned and faced me. “Hey, Roger,” she whispered, “you got an extra pen you can lend me please?”

I swallowed and immediately I was rummaging through my backpack. I found twelve pens - I paid Thirty rand for three! - pulled them out and handed them to her. “Take whatever you want,” I said. She picked up one after another, returning them back into my palm until she found one she liked. The one she chose was at the bottom. When she picked it up, her short fingers gently brushed my palm. My hands became all shaky and sweaty, I lost my grip. The pens fell from my shaky hands, and hitting the cement floor, they dispersed. The moment they hit the shiny grey tiles, every eye was instantly on me.

“Mr. Jacquier!” Miss Kippen chided from the front of the room. “Must you always make a scene?”

“Sorry,” I said, I bent down and began picking the pens up nervously but rapidly. Miss Kippen continued her lecture while I was on the floor burning with humiliation. What made my situation worse was that while on the floor I heard people snickering, trying to restrain their urges to laugh, saying to Miss Kippen, “I’m sorry, it was my fault” or “He pulled them out because of me and I may have knocked them out of his hand” - but she never did. All of a sudden I heard laughter. The deep and idiotic voice of Guy; he wanted to show me that he didn’t care if I heard him. Guy’s outburst was not what struck me however. It was Rozanne - she was laughing too. I was broken.

My head was spinning, but I went on picking up the pens. The last one sat by a frail and delicate pair of feminine legs. She had on black sneakers. They were “All Stars”, the air holes above the toes, the “All Star” logo on the opposite sides. Before I could pick up the pen, the skinny, smooth and brown arm belonging to the legs reached down and picked it up. I looked up. It was Kia Swartz. She was looking down at me with pity visible in her big bright eyes, sitting on her thin, brown face.

“Here,” she said. She swallowed. Her hand was shaking. I snatched the pen from her palpitating hand without letting out a single word of thanks and went back to my seat. As I sat down, Roz’s cackle resounded in my head. Every time I replayed the sound, Roz became more odious.

That whole day and week, I refused to acknowledge Roz’s existence. She didn’t seem to notice at first, but after she walked passed me in the hallways and tried talking to me but got no response, her glances, HI’s, and smiles became more frequent, but by February I began to forget why I was so angry.

One afternoon during the lunch break, I was sitting by myself in the cafeteria, finishing up my Macdonald’s Chicken burger. I sat at the far end, away from the other students. I despised them, excluding a small minority. Roz used to be part of that minority. To me they were victims of the plague and I feared contamination. I was wiping my hands when I saw someone coming towards me. The person’s eyes were on me as if on a mission. I could tell by the face it was a girl but I couldn’t tell the face from the crowd of light brown, dark brown, Graham, yellow, and white faces. When she got closer I saw that it was Kia. She was like a rose in full bloom in the desert. She didn’t belong among us!

Kia had two small cups of strawberry ice cream in her delicate hands, her long, thin fingers securing them. She came and sat at the long table across from me.

“Hi,”

“What do you want?” I said. She didn’t answer right away but just pushed one of the ice cream cups to me.

“I’m not here because of Roz,” she said. I wanted to tell her I didn’t mind Roz. It was her I minded, her with the condescension, as if there was something wrong with my being a loner. I had no one to call a friend but I was happy. But her condescension made my isolation feel conspicuous and false - she changed my aloneness to loneliness.

“If you’re not here for her then what are you here for?”

“To sit with you and share some ice cream, Roger! Is that so criminal?” She didn’t look at me. Her head was bowed over her ice cream cup. She removed the small wooden spoon glued to the lid and started scooping ice cream to her small curvy lips.

I started on my ice cream too.

“You know,” she began, raising her head and staring at me, “not everyone’s your enemy. Some of us actually like you and want to get to know you better.” I placed my cup down and looked up at her. “Did you come over here just to lecture me on how to get along with others?

She swallowed, looking away from me. “No,” she said and stopped. “I also wanted you to know that Roz feels awful about what happened in class. It’s killing her that you won’t look at her.” I was shocked: It’s Killing Rozanne that I’m angry with her? Kia saw my amazement and got up. Handing me a folded white sheet of paper, she walked off, angry. After she left, I unfolded the note and read…

“Roger, will you please forgive me? You’ve always been so nice to me. If you decide to forgive me and I hope you do, CALL ME!”

She had her number on the bottom. I folded the note back up and stuck it in my back pocket.

Later that evening in my room, at about nine o’clock, I took out Roz’s note. I was sitting on my bed, unsure if I should call. I stared at the note, reading if for the sixth time. I began keying the numbers on my cell phone. The phone rang twice and she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Roz? It’s me, Roger.”

“Roger, you’ve called! Does this mean you forgive me?”

“I can’t even remember what happened.” I tried to sound passive.

“Really? Well how come you won’t look at me or even respond when I try talking to you at school?” I didn’t say anything. “Why? I mean, if you forgive me and all.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay. I was angry, now I’m not. Isn’t that enough?”

She stayed quiet for a second. “Is it because you got a crush on me or something? Julia seems to think so.”

“What?” I blurted incredulously into the speakerphone.

‘Well, do you?”

I swallowed. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean anything. You’re the prettiest girl in school. Every boy has a crush on you.”

“So it’s true!” She giggled.

“Listen,” I said. My voice was shaky. “I’ve got to go.”

“Oh. Don’t you want to know how I feel about you?”

It’s May and I am holding Kia’s tract in my hand, “A thorn defends the rose, harming only those who would steal the blossom…”

I read the tract while walking home. The more I read, the shorter my paces became, until I was barely walking. It was a short tract so I finished it in five minutes. The message convicted me. Like Kia felt that evening in March when I asked her out on a date. I decided that Roz was not at all the type of girl I wanted to share my time with.

I walked deep into the park until I found a big, tall, isolated-tree and sat under it.

My eyes are still closed. I kissed the tract and slid it into my back pocket, walking further into the Park. I walk up to the pond. The water reflects the sun’s beams, the water is sparkling as if with millions of diamonds. Taking a deep breath, I look up at the bright sky and smile. I want Monday to come so I can tell Kia what happened to me today.

MY WORDS , ALL MY WORDS NOT PUBLISHED.... IT HURTS MY HEART...