A mile in dirty shoes

Unlike many people, Livvy liked the sound of chalk on the chalkboard. At least, when it was filled with purpose and not deliberately being tortured by someone with less than productive reasons. She just liked the way it felt. The feeling of anticipation you get from hearing others being busy and knowing you are about to listen to someone tell you things you didn’t know. She readied her pencil to take notes.

The sound of something wet penetrated her thoughts, then, there was a feeling of something striking her between her shoulder-blades. The feeling of something wet dripped down her back until the wet thing landed with a curiously disgusting squelch, onto the floor beneath her chair. There were muffled giggles and snorts, like a flock of geese, or (to Livvy’s mind) a herd of sheep.

There was a tap on her shoulder, but Livvy didn’t respond, she had made that mistake before. She stood quickly, not looking around, not acknowledging anyone, and slipped the strap of her bag over her head. She paused only a moment to stare at the teachers back as she continued writing on the blackboard. Livvy moved rapidly, walking to the door, twisting the handle and letting it slam as she exited the room, she looked back only once the door had slammed shut again. The teacher only now turning from her place at the blackboard, completely oblivious to anything happening in her own classroom.

Livvy hurried on before Miss Dawson could investigate the sudden noise she had caused. Livvy didn’t need adult questions, they never asked the right ones anyway. She walked with her head down, the hall monitors eerily silent with regards to Livvy, they had seen her often enough they didn’t even bother to stop her anymore.

Livvy walked to the bathroom, found a stall, locked the door, set down the lid, and sat; pulling her legs up against herself. She clasped her knees tightly. Silent tremors shook her form. Drops of moisture appeared, like raindrops, upon her kneecaps. Livvy cried. But it was ok, nobody saw her.


Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

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