But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault her pigtails were so inviting. Gleaming auburn in the sun that poured in from the classroom window. They were the perfect target.
He'd grabbed an extra straw at lunch, and tucked it in the pocket of his dungarees. While Mrs. Camp drilled the class in their multiplication tables, he discretely tore the corner off his worksheet and popped it into his mouth. He bit down slowly, clocking the strange sensation of the paper between his teeth. It didn't squish, like bread, or stretch, like bubblegum. It just... folded. Sat there. And as the saliva soaked into it, it softened, became pulpy. He remembered seeing the pulp on the drying screens when they studied recycling in art class. Chewed-up paper tasted exactly like that looked. It was disgusting. Why was he doing this?
The pigtails. Yes, the pigtails. So perfect. He couldn't stand how perfect.
Marc tucked his spitball into the end of the straw, and, making sure that no one was watching, angled the straw toward Melissa's head, and blew.
For the Daily Freewrite and the 200 Day Contest.
