Coming of Age Twenty-First Century Style

By Tyler Boudreaux

Stay cool as Mark walks over to talk to you, don’t let him see that you’re nervous. Stand tall with your nose in the air, and listen as he yearns to touch you. Smell his horny “spidy” senses tingling, share the same sense and nod as if uninterested when he tells you that he’s having a party tonight. Shrug your shoulders, “Maybe”, and walk away. Pretend to not take notice in the position of his hand over his swollen crotch, and hold your heart down as he says he can’t wait to see you there.

Go to the mall afterschool with Jess, to that store you know you can’t afford. Go to the dressing room with those new leather pants that mold your curves like in the magazines, and that little off the shoulders green top that shows your midriff. Try these items on, and look at the woman in the mirror. Tell yourself that you’re sexy; tell yourself that he’ll nearly explode when he says you tonight. Tell yourself that it’s worth it. Slip on your school clothes over the clothes, buy a pair of socks, and walk out of the store, with a puzzled face as the alarm goes off. Continue walking, and hold your victorious laughter until you are far out of sight.

Ignore your Mom’s call, you’ll call her later.

Go to the expensive makeup store, and “sample” your face into a heavy disguise. Pocket that purple mascara that you’ve been eying for weeks, and apply another layer of the sample lipstick to your pale lips. Make them big, and make them red. Make them so he won’t be able to say no. Smile in victory as you walk out of the store, have the pride to know you fooled them all. Change your clothes in the bathroom before you leave. Don’t feel the need to stuff your bra, the bra does it all for itself. Ditch the school clothes in a trashcan and don’t feel bad, afterall they were just secondhand. And do not forget it’s a Friday night.

Take the bus to Mark’s house across the city, lower your new shirt for the scummy bus driver when he asks you for the fare. Smile as he nods you on, but don’t get too cocky or else the other passengers may expect something as well.

Down the unknown contents of a random cup, immediately upon entry of the trashed residence, smile as it burns down your esophagus. Step outside and take your Mom’s call, argue with her about how you feel smothered; leave on the classic note, “I hate you”, and close your phone. Release the excess weight with a cigarette from Jess, go back and party. Let your hair loose, let your clothes loose, let your mind loose. Dance like no one’s around you, and believe that no one is. Tell yourself that it’s only Mark that is alive. Tell yourself that it’s only Mark who matters. Tell yourself that it’s worth it. Afterall, do not forget it’s a Friday night.

Drink two cans of beer offered by strangers who are trying to grab you. Do not let them take what is his. Discreetly look for Mark, but do not act desperate. Smoke two joints with Jess and some other dude, laugh your panties off. Pretend that you don’t notice Mark as he walks up behind you, pretend that you don’t like it when he grabs your waist. Bat your eyes as he compliments your outfit, shrug in “whatever” as he mentions his favorite color is purple.

Smoke another blunt with Mark, hold him tight as he stuffs his tongue down your throat. Watch his hands move down your back onto your waist, feel his fingers caress the back of your neck. Follow him as he leads you to the room, close the door, and surrender yourself. Tell yourself that he’s the one. Tell yourself that it only hurts because it’s supposed to. Tell yourself that it’s worth it. Afterall, do not forget it is a Friday night.

Let time fly, and find yourself in the backseat of a car. Look to see who is driving, and take note of their bloodshot eyes and slurred speech. Fulfill the beer run, and be the savior of the party by bringing more alcohol. Feel the weed embellish your senses and perceptions, feel the alcohol alter your understanding and control. Feel the wind rush against your bare skin, find that your shirt is ripped and revealing your undergarments. Listen as your phone rings inside of your pocket, buzzing that picture of your Mom at her wedding to that scumbag, remember how beautiful she looked in that glamorous gown. Watch as Mark grabs your phone and throws it out the window, do not have a care that suddenly it feels like you’ve lost your mother forever. Tell yourself nothing. Afterall, do not forget that it is a Friday night.

Let Mark overtake the dignity left in you, let him steal the charred soul that burns beneath your ripped flesh. Remember how miserable you felt before this moment, remember how he made you feel about yourself. Tell yourself that this is what you wanted. Tell yourself that you deserve this for all the shit you’ve had to go through. Tell yourself that those bright headlights swelling rapidly in the window are not real. Tell yourself that the seatbelts didn’t matter since Mark was all the protection you needed. Tell yourself that the screams and the squeal of the brakes are just all illusions. Tell yourself it was worth it.