W\\CKED

A Dream Made Flesh

[Jul]

The man of your dreams, Sanny said, as if she knew how my heart seized up when Dae's gaze latched onto mine. Was he a dream made flesh, this stranger who looked straight into me, his gaze probing mine with an intensity that no one ever directed my way before? Or was he mere illusion, another wish my heart was making that would never be granted? 

When I was younger and still full of hope, I used to spend my days pretending I was a sylph, a mythological creature who could vanish against the wall whenever the demi-gods of the academy passed by. I daydreamed that one golden-haired demi-god in particular would notice my existence. His name was Tyler and in the morning before classes started, I would sit under a tree pretending to read while I watched him run across the field like Adonis, sun-bronzed skin gleaming with sweat.

The first time I saw Sanny, she was sitting on a log between the trees skirting Old Green Academy's track field, a fierce and voluptuous being wearing lusterless black. Her brown hair was coiled up in braids, the tips of which stuck out in all directions on her head. She stared at Tyler as if she planned to lure him into the woods, where no one would hear from them again. The rational part of my mind understood she was the new scholarship student; the irrational part thought she was here to steal my prince.

She caught me staring. I dropped my gaze, pretending to be engrossed by a comic on my tablet.

Later between classes, I was ensconced in a wicker chair in the sitting area of the bathroom, waiting for a cluster of girls monopolizing the full-length wall mirror to leave.

"Hey, Juliet. I'm talking to you."

I glanced up from my tablet to see Meghan Boothe glaring at me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"Are you stalking Tyler Sinclair?" Her voice was filled with the insecurity of a girl who circled the perimeter of Tyler's group, never brave enough to flirt with him but always stealing glances when he flirted with someone else. We were in the same position but while I saw in her a familiar pain, she saw in me something less sympathetic.

"I don't know him," I said uneasily.

"Then stop following him like an obsessive fan girl who's going to snap if he doesn't say hello."

"I'm not like that..." My heart started beating erratically. "I would never..."

"She has trauma so she can act out however she wants and get away with it," another girl said condesceningly between dabs of lip gloss. "You can't expect her behave like a normal person."

"Who the hell wants to be normal?" It was the first thing I ever heard Sanny say. The words were delivered as she slammed open the door to a bathroom stall. She strode up to Meghan, who looked ready to bolt the second things went wrong. "Just because someone's a little off the curve doesn't mean they're gonna shoot the school up. What's wrong with a girl being selective about who she talks to?"

"Nothing, I guess," Meghan said. "If you don't care what people think of you."

"What if she doesn't give a shit what people think of her?"

"You certainly don't."

Before she could reply, the tardy bell tore through the moment and everyone fled for the exit, Meghan included.

I found myself alone with the new girl.

"So does the lipstick brigade alway come at you like this?" she asked casually. "I can teach you how to make them run the other way."

"Excuse me." I ducked into a bathroom stall. I took deep, steady breaths, waiting for her to leave. Her thick, black boots approached. Dark red nails shoved my tablet under the door. I had left it behind it in my rush to get away from her.

"Sorry for being an asshole. I wanted to help, is all. See you around, I guess." I heard her shuffle off. Another second and I would be on my own again. Just as I always was.

"I wish..." I whispered.

Suddenly her shoes were by the stall door again. "Wish what?"

I cracked open the door. She was leaning against the border between stalls, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I wish I had the nerve to say something like that to Meghan."

"I couldn't let her go at you just for liking the hottest abs in school." She winked.

I blushed.

"You know, the track team has practice this period. I found out yesterday when I skipped Algebra to take a walk."

"You could get in trouble doing that."

"Already did. It was worth it to see all the boys strip their shirts off when they got too hot from running."

"We should probably get to class."

"We're already going to get a demerit." She leaned closer. "Let's go watch them."

"I don't think..."

"We could flirt with you know who while the lipstick brigade isn't crawling all over him."

I turned away. "He'll just laugh at me."

"Who says? The girl with the selfie stick up her ass?"

"Guys always laugh."

"At that thing?" Her pinky motioned at my scar.

I nodded, humiliated.

"They can't cope with one little scar?"

"They think I'm deformed on purpose." The words tumbled out. "They don't get that some scars can't be fixed, no matter how much money you have. So they think I get something out of it." My voice grew strained. "Like I choose to be the biggest pariah in school."

She snorted. "My dad was a Marine. His scars would make yours look like stage makeup."

"I wish it would come off like makeup."

"Think of it as a tactical advantage: it lets you know who the trolls are so you can block them from your life." She pulled me toward the door. "Now let's make like the psychos we are and stalk some taboo ass."

That was years ago, when we were still kids and I didn't know yet that Tyler was nothing more than a troll who would rather mock my disfigurement than get to know the person behind it. Years of rejection convinced me I would never be the princess boys wanted to rescue; I would always be the sylph they walked right through on the journey to find their perfect match.

Until Sanny brought me to a concert I didn't want to attend to listen to a band I didn't want to hear and a stranger looked straight into me, his gaze probing mine with an intensity that no one ever directed my way before. In that moment, I realized just how lonely my heart was, clinging to daydreams of valiant princes charging in on white horses. What I really wanted was a man of flesh and heat, one capable of delivering everything his penetrating gaze promised. A man like Dae.

And so I found myself once again following Sanny toward imminent disappointment, because she made my cynical heart hope for what it shouldn't: that there was someone out there who wouldn't recoil from the truth carved onto my face.