Camila laughed mildly, just enough that her bones rattled for the instant in time before the second chorus of the song began. Then of course she stilled. It hadn't been so funny as to warrant actual mirth.
"You should mail that in somewhere- one of those gag gift books would probably run with it!"
She released his wrist at that, arbitrarily preferring her own personal space once more as the ebb and flow of her drifting made distance between them variable.
Benny was still lost to the drinks, perhaps to a moment with another friend. Camila had come to prom with specific purpose but that didn't preclude the general moments that could become her innocent nostalgia of the future. A month and then some then she'd be done with her formal education for good. Even this random boy and his random jokes would perhaps have some meaning to her yet unrevealed. She would allow the potential for it blossoming. She just didn't know if she wanted a name to go with the face. Mystery sometimes made the atmosphere all the more meaningful when otherwise obscured by the distance of time, she'd learned. Yet it wasn't an important decision to make, certainly not one to focus on anyways.
Her instinct told her nothing in particular, so she winged it and enjoyed herself for it.
"Tell me," she asserted over the music's jangle, quick to her follow-up, "what do you think of it all? Your past years here?"
Getting Down With The Clown
Misery loves company so come join
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MurderWeasel
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"'s alright, I guess," Phillip said.
What else could he say? It was basically the truth—skew a bit more pessimistic depending on the day, maybe, or a hair nicer once in a rarely. But he neither wanted to subject this girl to overbearing (and honestly at this point somewhat forced) cynicism nor patronize her with feigned preemptive nostalgia.
School, Chattanooga, life in general... it had all been basically okay so far. It had its ups and downs, good bits and bad, days Phillip felt like he was on top of the world and days he wanted to curl up very small and just disappear from it. If he could choose to be anyone he wanted, anywhere in the world, doing anything imaginable, his life here in Tennessee wouldn't be present on the short list. On the other hand, if he had to come up with his own personal hell, a set of circumstances calculated to torture and demoralize and destroy, his present existence would be similarly absent. It just was what it was. Luck of the draw.
For some reason, he didn't really think she'd get that. Maybe that was him not giving enough credit, or maybe even just being insecure expressing himself. There was no punchline to it, and the sentiment was so muddled even he could not fully discern apathy from ambivalence. It was a level he didn't think many of his peers related on, and those who did sure didn't talk about it. And this girl, she was also alright so far. She'd been kind about his joke. So he just bopped along, goofy like he always was because that was easier, and tossed the question right back at her like it was so much empty small talk.
"And you?"
What else could he say? It was basically the truth—skew a bit more pessimistic depending on the day, maybe, or a hair nicer once in a rarely. But he neither wanted to subject this girl to overbearing (and honestly at this point somewhat forced) cynicism nor patronize her with feigned preemptive nostalgia.
School, Chattanooga, life in general... it had all been basically okay so far. It had its ups and downs, good bits and bad, days Phillip felt like he was on top of the world and days he wanted to curl up very small and just disappear from it. If he could choose to be anyone he wanted, anywhere in the world, doing anything imaginable, his life here in Tennessee wouldn't be present on the short list. On the other hand, if he had to come up with his own personal hell, a set of circumstances calculated to torture and demoralize and destroy, his present existence would be similarly absent. It just was what it was. Luck of the draw.
For some reason, he didn't really think she'd get that. Maybe that was him not giving enough credit, or maybe even just being insecure expressing himself. There was no punchline to it, and the sentiment was so muddled even he could not fully discern apathy from ambivalence. It was a level he didn't think many of his peers related on, and those who did sure didn't talk about it. And this girl, she was also alright so far. She'd been kind about his joke. So he just bopped along, goofy like he always was because that was easier, and tossed the question right back at her like it was so much empty small talk.
"And you?"
Benedict returned into the sights of Phillip and Cam. The cold, icy coke felt better than anything else as it had cleared his throat. His cheeks were still a bit reddened due to the heat his body produced from the dancing and the room full of teenagers also doing that.
With a friendly grin he approached the two, observing the conversation and preparing to hook in once it is appropriate.
With a friendly grin he approached the two, observing the conversation and preparing to hook in once it is appropriate.
Lame answer. Camila's mood was pleasant enough that she could let it slide.
"I'm glad it's over. I didn't learn much."
Benny returned, and hadn't brought drink for either of them. Camila supposed he might not have been allowed to carry cups away from the refreshments tables and left it at that. Something so minor could not short the cackling circuit of her mood. She cleared enough space for two to become three.
"We probably agree more than you let yourself admit, acere." She laughed to herself, cleanly breaking the conversation with some smattering of Spanish meant solely for herself. A note.
"You, Benny?" She didn't need a moment extra to refocus the spotlight. "What will your takeaway from our four years be?"
"I'm glad it's over. I didn't learn much."
Benny returned, and hadn't brought drink for either of them. Camila supposed he might not have been allowed to carry cups away from the refreshments tables and left it at that. Something so minor could not short the cackling circuit of her mood. She cleared enough space for two to become three.
"We probably agree more than you let yourself admit, acere." She laughed to herself, cleanly breaking the conversation with some smattering of Spanish meant solely for herself. A note.
"You, Benny?" She didn't need a moment extra to refocus the spotlight. "What will your takeaway from our four years be?"
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MurderWeasel
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See, the girl wasn't exactly wrong but she also wasn't exactly right. Phillip had absolutely no problem admitting to himself that the vast majority of school and school-related activities and really life in Chattanooga in general was overwhelmingly bullshit. He wouldn't necessarily say that in the company of others, or not in as many words, because people freaked out about that sort of thing sometimes; that was why clowns had to couch the truth in laughter.
But on the other hand, sometimes you could learn an awful lot from bullshit. Not what the teachers intended to teach you, not what society wanted you to take away, but all the little quirks and foibles. Like, Phillip had for example learned how to make his disdain for things go down a little easier for the masses. He'd figured out that there were some jokes you only told in certain circumstances, and others you had to be prepared to get a bad reaction for.
Phillip sometimes thrived on bad reactions.
He wanted to see what Benny said before he really went anywhere weird, though, so for now he just bopped along to the off-beat, gaze flickering over the crowd, taking in all those proper classmates enjoying the culmination of mundanity that this event really was.
But on the other hand, sometimes you could learn an awful lot from bullshit. Not what the teachers intended to teach you, not what society wanted you to take away, but all the little quirks and foibles. Like, Phillip had for example learned how to make his disdain for things go down a little easier for the masses. He'd figured out that there were some jokes you only told in certain circumstances, and others you had to be prepared to get a bad reaction for.
Phillip sometimes thrived on bad reactions.
He wanted to see what Benny said before he really went anywhere weird, though, so for now he just bopped along to the off-beat, gaze flickering over the crowd, taking in all those proper classmates enjoying the culmination of mundanity that this event really was.
What will your takeaway from our four years be?
Hmm, a tough question. Benny rubbed his chin.
"Hmm, I don't know. It feels pretty weird that it's ending now...I think I'll miss it in a few years. But right now I'm glad it's over."
No more learning for exams, no more teachers, no more bus rides. They were free.
Hmm, a tough question. Benny rubbed his chin.
"Hmm, I don't know. It feels pretty weird that it's ending now...I think I'll miss it in a few years. But right now I'm glad it's over."
No more learning for exams, no more teachers, no more bus rides. They were free.
It was a double negative. Regret was one thing Camila already didn't have time for, but regret after the fact? There was a uniqueness to dredging up the past that already didn't need to be.
On him to hedge his bets, but she had all intent to never look back once she walked out those doors.
"Takeaway being that we're all done with it." An easy conclusion to make. Logic whetted the brain, seemingly faster than the actual one-second ticking of time. Camila nodded, satisfied. "I always thought. Those folk who reminisce about their high school years, they miss out. It'd be better to strive for a better present than be lost in the past."
Somewhere on the off beat, the ambient mood changed. Camila noticed and smiled, helpless to her primal attraction to the kitsch, mindful in her wearing of that mood that relaxed her poise into one of a dirtier form of hip shake. Casual, effortless, her audience irrelevant, it was the funnest form of self-indulgence. She was still listening but hardly.
On him to hedge his bets, but she had all intent to never look back once she walked out those doors.
"Takeaway being that we're all done with it." An easy conclusion to make. Logic whetted the brain, seemingly faster than the actual one-second ticking of time. Camila nodded, satisfied. "I always thought. Those folk who reminisce about their high school years, they miss out. It'd be better to strive for a better present than be lost in the past."
Somewhere on the off beat, the ambient mood changed. Camila noticed and smiled, helpless to her primal attraction to the kitsch, mindful in her wearing of that mood that relaxed her poise into one of a dirtier form of hip shake. Casual, effortless, her audience irrelevant, it was the funnest form of self-indulgence. She was still listening but hardly.
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MurderWeasel
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"Amen," Phillip said, but whether he was responding to Benny or the girl even he didn't know.
They were both right, in their ways. It was of course better to live in the present than to succumb to the gentle tendrils of nostalgia and slip under the surface to drown in the glory days of yore. Especially when those days weren't actually so great, and Phillip knew, right now in his very soul, that high school was not some amazing wonderland. If he, at some later point, recast it as such in his mind, he would be lying, and that meant he would not only be living in the past, but in an imaginary past that never was. There was a great political riff to made here, but that wasn't really his style of humor.
Of course, the other side of that was that he thought just about everyone was aware of all that stuff and told themselves the same things and yet inevitably they ended up reliving their schooldays forever anyways. For Benny to be self-aware enough to realize that, and then confident enough in himself to admit it, that was very admirable. Or was it just flippant?
Whatever the case, Phillip was grooving along to the new tunes, which were at least no longer Abba. He knew this song, had heard it dozens of times, but had no idea who it was by. Couldn't guess if his life depended on it.
They were both right, in their ways. It was of course better to live in the present than to succumb to the gentle tendrils of nostalgia and slip under the surface to drown in the glory days of yore. Especially when those days weren't actually so great, and Phillip knew, right now in his very soul, that high school was not some amazing wonderland. If he, at some later point, recast it as such in his mind, he would be lying, and that meant he would not only be living in the past, but in an imaginary past that never was. There was a great political riff to made here, but that wasn't really his style of humor.
Of course, the other side of that was that he thought just about everyone was aware of all that stuff and told themselves the same things and yet inevitably they ended up reliving their schooldays forever anyways. For Benny to be self-aware enough to realize that, and then confident enough in himself to admit it, that was very admirable. Or was it just flippant?
Whatever the case, Phillip was grooving along to the new tunes, which were at least no longer Abba. He knew this song, had heard it dozens of times, but had no idea who it was by. Couldn't guess if his life depended on it.
Cam spoke out some very wise-sounding sentences - as if it were a proverb - and Phillip said amen to that. Benny agreed and echoed the "Amen" with a smirk. The music changed and a rocky-funky tune showed up. The song was Smooth by Sublime if he correctly remembered.
Benny began to shake his hips and shoulders and continued to groove to the beat.
And his eyes were lost in Cam's eyes.
[[Benedict Murray continued elsewhere]]
Benny began to shake his hips and shoulders and continued to groove to the beat.
And his eyes were lost in Cam's eyes.
[[Benedict Murray continued elsewhere]]
She hadn't said anything that meaningful. The moment, at least, seemed poignant enough. There was an effortless unique to their movements as a collective group, possibly rare to where it would never be recur among themselves again. They'd all be long gone, nameless to each other with time.
She continued to want to move and continued to do so. She watched the other boy, a moment longer, watched her own.
Entranced by the beat, idly distracted by the jade of Benny's eyes.
((Camila Cañizares continued in follow up, follow through))
She continued to want to move and continued to do so. She watched the other boy, a moment longer, watched her own.
Entranced by the beat, idly distracted by the jade of Benny's eyes.
((Camila Cañizares continued in follow up, follow through))
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MurderWeasel
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Time passed. Prom passed. It was alright, Phillip supposed.
Well, maybe that was putting it too strongly. He had had worse days. There were worse school events. These people keeping him company were alright, and the rest of the room was easy enough to ignore. He'd done it, had been through the absurd rite of passage, and so his mom would be happy.
Good enough.
((Phillip Olivares continued in Room 714: Den of the Nerds))
Well, maybe that was putting it too strongly. He had had worse days. There were worse school events. These people keeping him company were alright, and the rest of the room was easy enough to ignore. He'd done it, had been through the absurd rite of passage, and so his mom would be happy.
Good enough.
((Phillip Olivares continued in Room 714: Den of the Nerds))