“Hell no!”

“C’mon Kennard, drink so I can tell everyone that I swapped saliva with you.”

“Oh God..” She groans, pushing my hand away. “I should’ve known you were going to do that.”

Teasing her further, I take another long sip from the saliva smoothie. “Are you sure you don’t want a taste? Your saliva blended with mine just made it even more yummier. I’m not surprised that we mix pretty well.”

“No thank you.” She says icily. “You owe me money for that smoothie.” She grumbles beside me, folding her arms stubbornly.

“I don’t have change.” I tell her. I pull out a bill from my wallet and place it on her desk. “Here’s a hundred.”

“This is too much, it only costs two dollars.”

“The banana smoothie might’ve cost two bucks, but your saliva made it priceless. If you ask me, a hundred bucks is hardly enough.” I smile at her before sliding out of my seat. “I’m going to the ladies room. Wanna come?”

“I’d rather pee in my underwear than urinate in a stall near you.”

“Suit yourself.” I smile and shrug before making my way out of the noisy classroom. I don’t know if its just my imagination, but when I returned a few minutes later, I could’ve sworn that the banana-saliva smoothie that I left on top of my desk had been drank on a bit. I looked at my all-too-innocent-looking seatmate questioningly, but her blank expression didn’t give her away. Did she taste it? I wondered. Well.. I hope she did, yucky as it was. For reasons beyond my comprehension, just the mere thought that we shared something as intimate as saliva made me giddy inside. Seriously, I’m beginning to think that something is wrong with me.

But since I’ve never felt this good in all my life, I welcomed the feeling – no matter how strange and foreign it was.

———————

No one ever put me in my place before. My friends, though I love them so much, were pretty much what you would call the perfect enablers. They turned a blind eye on my destructive behavior, and there were even times when they encouraged it. I was free-falling, flailing. My life had no meaning. I was wreck. My father once said that I was like an out of control train, heedlessly barreling through life with no direction whatsoever – propelled by an unending supply of anger. Honestly, I didn’t know where my bottomless well of aggression sprung out of. All I know was, I wasn’t particularly happy with myself – with my life. There was something missing. Something I couldn’t put a finger on. And every time I felt incomplete, I covered it up with anger. My temper was not only a defense – it was the shield that covered all the insecurities and brokenness that I hid within. It was my sanctuary.