Rage Of Angels

Punks-Tomorrow

Minie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
And since Tommy liked to get high, too, they had agreed to meet, before school started, at the edge of the woods.
When Minnie stepped through the leaves and needles, the first thing she saw was Tommy, in jeans and his crumpled hair covering his eye. She stopped to watch the morning fog cling around him; owning him.
And she smiled.
Tommy was beautiful.
It was 7 a.m.
And she had brought two joints.

They were walking down the road; no sidewalks. Tommy's feet shuffled along slow, a dream. She hauled off the joint, to the same slow beat of his sneakers.
She looked up to see him looking away. Bringing his joint to his lips, Minnie knew he was nowhere, but in his mind.
And so she just watched him looking away, blowing from his lips the smoke; a grey swirl just hanging out with the fog.
"Are you scared, Tommy?" she asked.
But he did not answer her, even though he had heard her.
They threw away their joints, stepping up the concrete step, to the inside of the corner store. Minnie watched Tommy play the same video game, until almost first class.

It rose inside of her, high and made her head hurt, when they stood in front of the school. It only lasted a second. She took a deep breath, just as Tommy grabbed her hand. Their fingers laced.
She looked up at him.
He looked down at her.
She noticed his hand was cold.
And she did not know what he was thinking. Did he love her?
It did not matter; they were walking up the stairs and walking into the stares.
Just stares. All around them. And even more, when they stepped through the large glass doors and into the hallway of lockers.
She did not grip Tommy's hand tighter.
Instead, she smiled, a wide, wide smile. "Hi, y'all!" She said it loudly.
But who would answer her?
So, Tommy walked her to her locker. And then to first class.

Her first class was English and she sat by the window.
She stared down at her notebook. She penned

I love Tommy
Minnie loves Tommy
Miniie & Tommy
4-ever

over and over, again.
She could feel eyes on her.
Then the crackle of the P.A. System half an hour into class. And she knew.
"Mrs. Carmichael, are you there, please?" The voice, pleasant and asking.
Minnie watched the teacher move, across the room, close to the speaker; smooth and fast.
"Yes. I am here."
"Is Minnie in your class this morning?"
And Minnie muttered, “Fuck,” standing up, before Mrs. Carmichael even looked towards her.
"Could you send the young lady to the office, please?"
"It must be your birthday," Mrs. Carmichael smiled, clear and bright, when Minnie brushed passed her.