17 Things - Part 4

F*ck West Laurier High. Any time we ever got close to a championship, they’d beat us in the playoffs. It’s not that I’m a sore loser, it’s just that they’re the biggest bunch of assholes to ever step foot on a football field. Spitting, picking on the shortest kids on our team, illegal hits, paying off the ref… everything you can think of, these guys have done it. You could say that the players, the coaches, the teachers and the students of West Laurier have single-handedly shattered my dreams, ‘caused severe depression, and sent my life into an unstoppable whirlwind. Thanks for lighting the fuse, boys.

Brittany agreed we had to leave them a little gift before we headed down to Niagara. We decided West Laurier High would be the first visit on our little road trip. We hit the road, riding in my dad’s stolen Lexus, and turned up the music as loud as possible. I smiled at Brit, she smiled at me. Hey, it may have taken an inhuman rampage of immoral acts to do it, but we were really connecting as a couple.

We hit a red light, and again I turned to Brit. This time, it wasn’t a smile that caught my eye; it was what Brit was doing with her shirt. She lifted it over her head and threw it to the near-by sidewalk, leaving her in one the sexiest looking tank-tops I had ever seen. She turned to me, and put her hands around my neck. Then, she looked into my eyes, and went for it. Now, Brit and I had kissed before, but never like this. It went on for a good 30 seconds, and I was at a lost to the things around me. It was official; I was definitely going out in style.

It eventually took some car-horns behind me to remind me that the light had turned to green. Being the abiding citizen I am, I sped through the intersection way above the speed limit, and then flipped off the guy behind me.

Before long, we arrived at West Laurier. It was a rich, preppy school and that just pissed me off. I was originally suppose to go here when we moved into the neighbourhood three years ago, and it took a hell of a lot of complaining to my mom before my dad okay-ed me to go to Newberry High. I did not want to be a “rich kid”, I just wanted to be a normal kid. I guess I still got screwed over in the end, but at least I tried.

We pulled up in the parking lot, and there were only two other cars there. Must be janitors, we figured, as it was close to 6:30 p.m when we got there. Somehow, we were gonna have to by-pass them when we got there. Wait a second, they’re janitors… we’ll just bring them some liquor and they’ll be happy.

When we got in (carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels), there was no one to be found. For some reason, the door was unlocked, and we just walked right in. There’s was probably security cameras watching us, so that’s a plus. My face was going to be everywhere, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. Almost too much, perhaps.

We walked around, and I caught sight of the trophy case in the hallway. Brit looked at me with a look of concern I had never seen before, but I just told her that it was ok, and I walked forward. I looked at all the trophies, all the medals, all the photos, all the happiness, and I despised every bit of it. Everything contained in that trophy case was my dream, and now I stared at it as a nightmare. What I wanted, I could never have, and it was all behind this glass case. I stared at it, and let all the anger fill in. Brit came and put her arms around me, and I held her back. I don’t think that she realizes why the “football stuff” (as she calls it) bothers me so much, but she does know that it has a profound effect on my heart and my mind. I continued to stare, until I had had enough. I took a deep breath and kept walking, liquor in hand.

I slowly opened the door to the gymnasium, and looked around in awe. It was the biggest, most phenomenal thing I had ever seen. I know I didn’t want to be the stereotypical rich-kid, but it sure looked as though it had it’s advantages. It was an incredible sight, and the more incredible it became, the more my blood boiled. This was the place that housed the people that had taken our championships. The honeymoon was over, I had to rid this town of this place.

I took the liquor and poured it all over the place… all over the equipment, the trophies, the banners, the photos, everything. To top it off, I threw the glass bottle right at one of the trophy cases and shattered it. It broke open just enough for me to be able to reach in and grab a trophy. Well, not just a trophy. My trophy.

I told Brit to head to the car, just to be safe. I took another deep breath and looked around one last time. My ego inflated, my anger increased, and my hands shook. I took the book of matches out of my back-pocket and lit the entire pack. I whispered “F*ck you, WLH”, and tossed the book across the gym.

With that, my dream and my nightmare had been taken care of in one swift motion. The one place that I despised the most was set ablaze, and the flames engulfed all of my inhibitions. Call it a freedom fire.

As Brit and I left the scene, she kissed me once more as the sweet serenade of a fire truck siren filled the evening sky.