Blue Green Nine

by Viktor Tejada

It all started out with an act.
Literally.
She was a member of the drama club I recently became a part of.
She had long curly hair,
a pair of eyeglasses as big as her face,
and a giant blue green hoodie that hardly left her body.
She was beautiful, alright,
but I did not like her.

I was given the role called “The Doubtful”.
And boy, did I live up to its name.
Wondering if all of this was worth my time.
I would sit uncomfortably on the sides of our rehearsal room,
a freshman classroom,
wherein I would open my bag
and reach for my book.
The book was entitled “Nine Stories” by J.D. Salinger,
who was then a significant man in my life thanks to his pal Holden.
He is still significant even up to now.

A girl comes up to me and asks about the book.
I look up and see Oversized Blue Green Hoodie Without a Hood Girl.
Now, I’m not much of a talker,
but I tried my best and explained
through the words of an ardent-in-reading-yet-shy boy.
Obviously perplexed, she asks if she could read a couple pages.
I take a peek at the book and remembered the page I was on.
I take a good look at her and handed the book.
From the moment she held the book,
I had already forgotten the page where I left off.
She was beautiful, alright,
but I did not like her.

Now with nothing to read aside from my script, I rehearse.
The doubtful portrays The Doubtful,
like how morning turns to night,
like how you just blinked right now,
like how I am just being myself:
naturally.

An angel whispers into my ear and tells me to look to my left.
Over-exaggerated you may say,
although I would like to believe that is what transpired.
So I look to the left and see Blue Green,
sitting at the corner of the room reading the book I had lent her,
probably engrossed to story number one,
focused at every word she encounters.
And here I am,
unfocused and surprisingly struggling with internal encounters.
She was beautiful, alright,
But I did not like her.

Although from that moment on,
I had a feeling that I could,
and I would.

We fast forward to today,
where we have spent most days talking to each other,
where we have captured moments with our eyes,
and stored the images in our hearts.
Where we have said our I love you’s to one another,
where we have given and received our art.
I can finally say that this is the opposite of how it began –
or where things began.
An act that brought me to the real,
and the real that brought me out of my act.
The doubtful doubted less and less,
until the doubtful stopped doubting altogether.
The real was beautiful, alright,
and I love her.

But then if I were to act again,
I would like to be J.D. Salinger.
And I would sit down,
grab a piece of paper,
and write about how I fell in love with Blue Green Nine.

This is my tenth story.

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