Broken People by Scott Hildreth Page A

he wasn’t nervous, I kept looking at him, trying to decide what it was about him that I wasn’t sure of. I got lost for what seemed like an eternity admiring his good looks and his white teeth. I had never seen a boy that looked like this, and I was pretty sure he didn’t have to do anything to look like this.
    “Are you waiting on someone? ” he asked again, looking into my eyes as he spoke.
    “Oh, no. I am just nervous. I have never met anyone like you before. Uhhhhm, do you have Facebook?” I asked.
    “No, I don’t….”
    “Twitter?” As I spoke, I realized that I had interrupted him. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, and moved where he could see my good side, my left side. My right side always made me look much fatter than I actually was, and my left side made me look thin. Looking over my left shoulder, I waited for a response.
    “Actually, I don’t utilize any of the social networking that most people do, Britney,” he responded.
    I stood and stared at him. My m outh open, I couldn’t speak. Why doesn’t he have Facebook? Twitter? How does he function? Maybe his parents were strict. For what seemed like an eternity, I stood and stared. Dreaming of him touching me, I stood and stared. That was all I did. Stared. I heard someone sneeze behind me and I jumped, turning around. A lady passed by, and smiled. I looked back over my left shoulder at him, and he smiled. His eyes focused on mine, he began to speak again. I liked the way he said my name when he spoke to me.
    “I do not have Faceb ook. I do not have Twitter. I do not spend any time on Tumblr, post pictures, use Snapchat, Instagram, or spend time on YouTube. To me, that’s a waste of my time. I look at my life as being far more important than that. I read, write poetry, and spend time listening to music. I try to have some depth, and not be like everyone else. Reading and writing poetry helps me with that,” he paused, looked up at the ceiling, and then looked back down, and continued, “If someone wants to know where I am, who I am with, what I am shopping for, where I am eating, or whatever, I want them to know because they actually know me. Or because they are accompanying me. Oh, and I do not watch television or the news. It’s always such bad things that they talk about. If they had a channel called the good news , I would watch it. But all the news is bad. Know what I mean, Britney?”
    I nodded. My focus was stuck on his eyes.
    He took his hands from his pockets, and looked at his watch again. He then held his hands out in front of him, motioning with them as he spoke, “The news is just full of bad things that happen. A bombing here, a shooting there. Someone cheated people out of money. A company lost millions by the hand of an embezzler. A massive wreck on 95. It’s always something. If they said, well, if they said, say, ‘ construction is complete on 95, and it is three months early. Home sales are up in Morgantown, the economy is on the upswing, and unemployment is down to one percent across the nation, more after this commercial,’ if that was ever on the news, I may watch it. I do read the newspaper before school. Every day. I do that, because I can decide what to read, and what to set aside.”
    Nervously, I spoke, “That is so cool. Definitely different, but cool. Uhhhhm, I hate to be forward, Marc, but would you like my number?”
    “Yes, Britney, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get something to eat,” he motioned for the door, and walked toward me.
    “No, I h ave to meet my family for lunch. It’s my birthday today, so we’re having lunch,” I shifted my body so he would stay on my left.
    “How old are you, Britney? ” he asked.
    I shou ld lie. So I did a little bit, “Eighteen.”
    “ Cool, me too,” He reached in his inner jacket pocket and got his phone.
    “Okay,” I started, “Nine Zero Eight Three F our Seven Seven One Four Seven”
    “That’s too many numbers,” h e said, puzzled, looking