APRIL 10, 2002 — SCOTT DAUGHTRIDGE
/Ally gave me a hit of acid in art class today and told me to wait until the weekend to take it. I took it right after class ended. I took my shoes off in Ms. Cardin’s class and Brendan started throwing paper at me from across the room. Ms. Cardin yelled at him to stop but he didn’t. She said something to me, but I couldn’t understand her. She kicked us out of class and when I was in the hallway Ally walked by, took one look at me and said, “Holy shit, you’re tripping.” Her eyes looked really dark, like she had been putting on more and more eye liner throughout the day. Maybe she thinks her eyes can’t be dark enough like the skinny girls think they can’t be skinny enough. Brendan got mad at me for not giving him some of the acid but I told him I only had one hit and that it wasn’t very strong anyway.
When Ms. Cardin came into the hall she said she didn’t know if she wanted me to come back to her class again. The top of my head was disconnecting. The floor was a river of shining metal. She looked sad and I couldn’t help but think how last year her name was Mrs. Casper, but that she changed it over the summer, after her and her husband divorced because she caught him having an affair. She doesn’t have any kids and I think she wants us to be her kids, her family. I don’t want to be her kid. I already have a family and I don't like them much. I figured the least I can do was show her some respect, though. I went back to my seat and wrote he not busy being born is busy dying over and over until the bell rang.
Scott Daughtridge was educated in the back room of a thrift store in Acworth, Georgia. Most recently, his work has been featured in Midwestern Gothic, Everyday Genius, Dogzplot, Necessary Fiction, Curbside Splendor, and other places. His chapbook, I Hope Something Good Happens, will be released this summer through Lame House Press. You can find him online at www.notmuchisreallysacred.com.
