Ana Oliveira Part 2

" Because my stepfather is a pervert, who beats me and my mother, is always making jokes about my body and staring at my breasts — she said, without ceremony, taking out a black notebook and a pen to summarize the class — And she won't leave that asshole, so I'm very tempted to look for an escape from this shitty life, before I end up raped or killing the bastard. And you?
The confession made an acidic liquid rise in my throat. Nauseated, I understood that she wasn't that person with a hardened appearance for nothing, she had been forged to be a sharp object, not to be sweet. The teenager didn't seem to have known sweetness in life...
" My three-year-old brother drowned while I was reading a book in the living room, and, as a result, my parents killed themselves in a suicide pact.
The girl, white as a person who avoided daylight, bit her dry lip after what I said. Then she reached for something inside her backpack. I stared at the closed fist she pointed at me, and when the girl opened her fingers, I saw that she was offering me a piece of gum. I smiled as I took the candy, stuffing the grape Bubbaloo into my mouth. I liked the little redhead, just because she didn't say anything. She didn't try to comfort me. She just gave me silence, and that was a good response when you heard something so heavy. And, as horrible as it was to admit it, I was happy to have found someone like me, with a shitty life.
"My name is Ana," I said, without taking my eyes off the black lines I was making in my notebook.
"Mine is Isabela. Do you want to be my friend? At least we know we're both fucked up."
"Do you really want to be friends with a piece of shit?"
"I'm another piece of shit..." she joked, smiling.
Suddenly, the soccer ball landed right in front of my white sneakers. I put the notebook aside and picked up the object, to throw it to the people on the court. Caíque then came running, his orange-red hair wet with sweat, and I prepared to throw the ball to him, closing my eyes against the brightness.
“Go on, fatty! Kick the ball, but don’t roll it with it!” he mocked, giving a wicked smile.
Irritated, I threw the ball hard, aiming for the top of my head to hit him in the face. I was anxious to cause damage to his rosy face, but the boy caught it very quickly, with a triumphant, tight-lipped smile.
“If you call me that again, I’ll break your face, you idiot!” I warned, standing up and pointing my index finger in his direction.
I usually felt very sad when people made fun of my body. I was about six kilos over the ideal weight for someone who was 1.63 meters tall. It was enough for scoundrels like Caíque to make fun of me. I've heard jokes my whole life, people called me "pig", "donut", "whale"... I was very creative, and so was the list of nicknames. My self-esteem was very low, because of people like him. If it were before, I would shut up, run away crying and hide in the school bathroom. But I was so tired of everything, that I couldn't stand anything. I was a glass full of water ready to overflow.
"Hit me or I'll crush your face!" the boy warned, coming very close to me, holding the ball next to his waist.
I had to look up to meet those narrow eyes. When I got ready to dig my nails into his face, ready to cause chaos, Isa appeared next to me, holding my waist in a side hug.
"You crush her face and I'll cut yours off. I've been wanting to visit a juvenile detention center for a while now..." she whispered, while holding a razor blade at him. I watched as the jerk opened his mouth in a small “O” and cowardly walked away. It was typical of bullies to run away when they met another one.
“Do you always carry a gun around?” I joked, relieved that my new friend had intervened, as we sat down.
“Oh, you know how it is... Every now and then the hair on your eyebrows grows,” he joked, putting the object in a thin piece of paper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his jeans. “Or your wrists itch.”
I swallowed hard, absorbing his acid humor. I really liked that girl. At least it was a nice surprise when all I was expecting was a few more doses of slow death.


***



I only parted ways with my new favorite person when I had to get on the school bus. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to watch a series at night while we made a phone call to comment. A horror story, she said. She didn't need much convincing, after all, what else was there to do besides stare at the ceiling and imagine what my end would be like?
As I walked down the rows of blue seats on the bus, avoiding any seat with someone next to it, I noticed that the last row was practically empty. I sat on the right side, nestled against the window, thinking about how the day had been better than I expected. Nothing that would make the pain in my chest lessen, but it was... different from what I thought it would be. I got ready to put on my headphones when I heard a whistle. I frowned, paying attention to the boy in the opposite window.
"Did you think I hadn't noticed?" she asked, giving me a small smile.
I didn't understand that feeling right away, a slight discomfort in my stomach. My heart skipped a few beats, deciding to dance to a frantic rhythm.
“Wh... what?” I stammered.
Why was he talking to me? I suddenly became concerned about how ugly I looked, smoothing the rough, wavy strands stuck to my head. Damn! I hadn’t washed my hair in three days. And the dark circles under my eyes? They were deep enough to make me look like a panda.
“That you were staring at me the whole class…” I swallowed hard, feeling my skin go cold as drops of sweat escaped from my forehead. I looked out the window, observing the landscape of the Tijuca buildings, feeling my cheeks burn. I was caught! He saw me staring…
“I wasn’t!” I denied, not daring to look at that well-defined jaw, that perfect nose, or the naturally red mouth.
I felt him jump a few seats, landing next to me, and my heart felt like a samba school drum. The boy's breath was close, warm, smelling of... smell of...
"You smoke!" I whispered, thinking out loud.
"Yes!" he acknowledged, smiling and showing dimples when he noticed my embarrassment. "You're all red, little girl!" I swallowed hard, shocked by the proximity, by the fact that his face was inches from mine. I noticed his perfect white teeth, and how they matched that entire face. He was almost a work of art, and I thought it wasn't fair for a person to concentrate so much beauty in themselves... I bit my upper lip, staring at the way his thin beard was about to grow, and it was so sexy!
"Are you going to tell me why you were staring at me?" he insisted, smiling provocatively. He smelled really good, and all that was making my stomach turn, getting hot.
"I wasn't looking at you!" I lied, watching his eyes that were so clear and deep. — I was staring at Bernardo, he's funny and...
" I know... — he cut me off, looking disappointed as he looked down.
I was angry! Angry for having been caught, and for him being there, talking to me and making me feel things. I looked out the window, wanting to ignore all that proximity. And then, I was surprised to realize that I was very close to home. I saw the square, the subway station and, startled, I stepped over his legs, not caring about the inappropriate parts where my body touched the boy's.