Fever of The Youth -- Niki M

Niki Mohajer

4-18-14

Bennett, 5

Fever of The Youth

The light leaked through the lustrous windows of the detention hall in Fair Oaks Private High School, as Clarian Court, sat straight, putting all of her effort into her trigonometry assignment. She had been asked to supervise the detention program for the day, despite her internal protest. Clarian despised her pretentious school in Los Angeles, because of her grudge against class distinctions. Her head retraced the path that her childhood created for her, to a time when she was victimized by her own friends for not having a “big enough house.” Grim resentment settled on her face.

This Wednesday was the same; only one boy sat in the front of the vacant classroom. He wore all black, as if trying to convey a dark persona, and the prominent shape of his wide-set jaw gave him away without Clarian having to glance twice. Luke, she thought, that kid who always smokes on school grounds. An enigma was the perfect way to describe him. He was attractive, although Clarian could never think about him as such, because if she did the cigarette smoke clinging to his shirt might show up on her breath.

“So I guess they made you supervise detention today,” he remarked suddenly, forcing her

to glance up from her homework.

“Why are you always in here,” she found herself instinctively blurting out. She could not help but wonder how he always ended up getting caught, as if he wanted to.

“You really want to know the truth?” he focused in on her sharp features, noticing a smile as if she was goading him to continue.

“I really do,” she scoffed, her voice sticky with disdain.

“Strict parents make rebellious children. I rather enjoy getting caught to challenge parental oppression,” an overt hostility was apparent his voice.

She sighed deeply, and then went back to completing her homework. Even in trying to reach her academic conscience, she felt his eyes glued on her. Something in the back of her mind mercilessly dragged her back into the conversation.

“I actually want to ask you if you ever bother with the consequences of your actions,” her eyebrows rose, “I mean you have your future to worry about…College, graduating, all of that.”

“Relax, Clarian. You shouldn’t worry so much about the future since you’re so capable. It’s really not that big of a deal to bend the rules. Smoking, for example, actually relieves stress.”

She looked at him sardonically, her lips tightening. He stared back at her, the glazed expression on his face hinted that he was trying to show her he cared enough to let her know that her disapproving expression did not phase him.

She opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by his deadpan voice, “Smoking is bad, I get it, I’ve heard it all before, I don’t feel like listening to you yap about it.”

“Yes, but do you ever stop to listen--”

He cut her off suddenly, “Of course. I do happen to have some course of justification for my actions. It’s not as that easy, being this reckless… especially having parents that reliant upon an authoritative nature.”

“It might be better for you, your health and general well being,” she urged. He shot her an adamant look.

“It’s not that simple, Clarian. As a kid, my parents constantly reiterated the negative effects of smoking. But now, all I remember was walking up the steps of my house everyday and feeling the air around me, bitter and pungent. I turn and see my mom smoking a cigarette. I never asked her about it. I just remember losing it one day, racing into my room, flinging myself onto my bed, tears racking my body. I cried until I was drained of every drop that had been bottle up inside of me. Hypocrites...” His face tense up at this word, in it bringing back horrible memories of his childhood. “Hypocrites raised me. Why should I listen to hypocrites?”

“I didn’t realize that, I’m sorry. But you’re different, you shouldn’t want to make their mistakes, Luke.” She stared at him, conspicuous compassion radiating off of her.

“What if I do? What if I do what I do out of resentment? Not a single person in my life has ever care about me enough. My parents, want me to be my best because it makes them look better. No one really cares.”

“I care,” she blurted quickly. He looked up at her, wistfully. “It may be hard to believe, but listening to my parents all the time isn’t satisfying either. It drains me to hear ‘no’ all the time and feel as if you can’t do anything about it.” A strong feeling of empathy hung freely in the air between them.

Luke looked at her as if he knew exactly what she felt. Of course, neither of them had ever met someone they connected with this much in such a short span of time. “Maybe we need each other more than we think. Maybe I can help you cut loose a little, enough so that you’re not as high-strung, and you can help me, so I, you know, have a future?” There was a hint of sentiment within what Luke was saying to Clarian, a change from his stolid nature.

“Yeah… I’d like that a lot,” she looked up at him, as her muscles pulled her mouth into a thin smile. He found a smile slowly tugging on his lips. Clarian looked back down at her homework trying to focus on the assignment, but her mind buzzed, and all she could think about was what Luke had said.

“By the way Clarian, I care about you too,” Luke suddenly remarked, causing Clarian to feel herself tense up at his words. She looked down again, her heart pulsating. She attempted to bear all her focus into her trigonometry homework with no avail.