As I sat there… suffocating in the outside air polluted by second hand smoke mingled with alcohol, I listened.
I listened to the way they thought. I listened to how they drowned their sorrows in alcohol and drugs. I listened to their strange theories and twisted outlooks on life. They talked about parties and sex. Joints and shooters.
I just sat there and listened.
There, I was known as the “church girl”. I was the one with morals– “High moral values”. I was the innocent one who needed a definition of a Dirty Mexican.
There were two other girls and four guys. One girl is into the “new era” and doesn’t have much of an interest in the opposite sex. The other is on the dance team: pretty in the face, boobs pushed up so high they’d fall out if it weren’t for the uniform, and was most definitely interested in the opposite sex. Two of the guys were 18 and drank, smoked, partied, and came to near-death experiences due to their sheer stupidity. The other guy was 19. He looked 42 to me. But he was 19… on his license and all. He was Mr. Wine Connoisseur. He had at least 3 girl friends and some extras on the side. A full-of-himself jerk who was obsessed with “features… if you know what I mean” and thats the way he put it. Then there was this 36 year old who dwelled too much on the past, had a “F**k Love” tattoo and had a crush on me. Ew. Then, there was me: short, okay looking, who came up short in the “features” department. I liked to read and learn about things. I get lost in a book in a world of my own. I wish I could write as eloquently as the authors of my books but have yet to come up with anything worth a good comment from my teacher. I work hard for my barely-above-average grades. I enjoy church and love my family. For me, sex can wait until marriage and as for parties… I’m thinking of pizza, soda, and a comedy movie.
So while I sit there sipping some root beer out of a plastic cup, they talk. I can tell they think they’re cool when they say “F**k that B**ch” or “D*mn, dude. I got so hammered the other night… I woke up in some other person’s bedroom… it was F**king hilarious.” But the more they talk the more I think… Jackasses. Eventually the sounds of their voices and meaning of their twisted words and ways fade into the background. It becomes a mere echo off in the distance. I look at their faces and their eyes turn green and their teeth turn yellow. Hideous. Their flesh began to shrivel and their hands became gnarled. The most disgusting creatures my eyes have ever beheld. I wanted to turn away, but I was transfixed.
I realized then that this was not my imagination. It wasn’t a dream, and there was definitely nothing wrong with my root beer. This was real. This was them. These were the people with out their parties and language. Without their looks and social status. The beasts were what was within. These were the kids without their exteriors. With nothing to hide behind, they were ugly.
The break ended. Time to go back, put on a smiling face, and clear tables for the next set of customers.
