Thought Catalog - Cicada, Ladybug (Chapter 3) lyrics

“I thought we agreed not to get mad if those brats call you a girl,” I say to Izzy, speeding up to pa** a green minivan. “We did, but they don't call me a girl. They call me ‘Princess I—'” “I thought we agreed that if you ‘want to be a man,' to hold your head high and ignore them.” “We did, but—” “I thought you understood when I warned you this would happen.” “No, no.” Izzy thumps his thighs then rotates to me and kneels on his seat. “It was—” “For playing ‘Star Wars,' wasn't it? It doesn't matter if they think it's funny. If you want to pretend you're Vader, go ahead. Zeeoom Zeeoom all day if you want. You be you.” “No, Santi. It was Thebe.” Carthage's little brother? Izzy says, “In morning recess, he came out of nowhere and knocked me down. I mean out of nowhere, POW. He was mad and telling me that his older brother was going to get you, going to get you, going to get you, over and over.” No, no, no. Not Carthage. I hear Izzy's nails scratch denim as he clutches his jeans. “Santi? You upset?” “So you hit him?” I ask. “No! I forgave him, just like you taught me to. I said, ‘I forgive you,' and walked away. Didn't even tell the teacher.” “But Sato said you hit him.” “No, no, listen to me. In cla** he kept looking at me. And you know that I sit in the back, but he'd stay turned around and look at me mean. Then during afternoon recess he came up to me with his friends and he kept telling me that his brother's going to hurt you. And I asked him what he meant because you never mess with anyone. You're the nicest ever, Santi. But his friends made a circle, and I knew it was so Miss Williams couldn't see, and I got trapped, and he hurt me.” The steering wheel squeaks from my grip, and I wipe my left eye by rubbing my shoulder against it. You swore this would never affect him. God damn it. You hurt him. He's the reason you're doing this and you hurt him. HE WAS ALL ALONE. I punch the car ceiling, THUMP. I clutch the wheel and jerk it back and forth. I hurt him! THUMP, THUMP. “Santi!” yells Izzy, so I peel my hatred from the road to look at him; his eyes are streaming off his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I—I—” “But Mr. Sato said you started it. Said you followed him into the bathroom—with something in your hand. Did you have anything? Izzy, what did you have? WHAT DID YOU HAVE?” “NOTHING, SANTI. I just punched him! I had to! He kept staring at me in cla** and mouthing bad things. I had to, Santi.” My head shakes. “Santi, I had to! I had to! He said you'd get hurt.” f**ing Carthage. Not only does he have the black balls to stay, but to tell his younger brother those things? To tell Thebe those things? Thebe? Who goes to school with MY Izzy? I'm going to—I heave back and forth on the wheel so it rattles within the dash. Going to—“DAMN IT.” I want to rip the wheel off and hurl it at the bridge of his nose. “I'm so sorry!” says Izzy, who's gasping between wet sobs. HUP-HUP. “Thebe said his brother was going to hurt you.” “Oh, come on! All I do is work, Iz. Why would anyone have it out for me? He's just a punk little kid that wants to scare you.” “But he said you're going to get hurt.” I slash my hand through the air to cease it all, so Izzy gulps and holds his breath, trembling like a water balloon too heavy. But I sneer ahead; I watch the splotchy hood of the Honda vacuum in the road as if slurping an endless gray snake. At an intersection, we roll to a stop like a boulder. I have to think. If Carthage really is stupid enough to stay, if he is—that ba*tard—but if he is that f**ing stupid to stay—I'm going to—Spyder. You need to tell Spyder. Goosebumps creep up my neck faster than fire up wallpaper. I feel dizzy. My head limps back against the headrest. f**, I need to tell Spyder. “Santi?” trembles Izzy. My hands begin to pray and my eyes cringe shut, stinging. If Spyder finds out on his own, imagine what he'll do to you. “It's green,” Izzy whimpers. Not even to you, imagine what he'll do to Izzy. No, he can't. If I can tell him—if I throw myself down— A car honks behind us at the intersection. I peer over my praying fingertips to the rearview mirror; a blonde woman with sungla**es mouths words at me and gestures to move. Get to Spyder. I veer right toward his house.