rodrigo bittencourt
auracebio pereira
The taste of iron in his mouth is stronger than the touch of the wall.
The writer knows what barbed wire is.
but to him ribs are just what they serve at barbecues.
and the switch, he calls it the light button.
From the top of the toilet, through the restroom window, he sees the afternoon sun and the barbed wire on the courtyard wall.
He hears his name through the door and swallows. and there comes the reminder, the taste of iron.
because he hears Floater pressing the light button and locking the door.
Or maybe it is true what he said, and Floater’s mother is actually a bitch.
and the sound he makes is not that quiet.
and that’s why he can smell fear.
Floater’s retarded!
he’s eighteen and he’s still in sixth grade.
and he can’t even fucking spell!
Everything went black.
First there was the taste, still the blindness.
say it again, you fucking brat!
say it again and see who’s retarded!
thinking you’re a writer ‘cause you got some words right.
and only later the pain, the broken nose.
you stupid son of a fucking bitch!
you faggot, they’re gonna kick you out of this shit!
you retard, you’re a grown-up already!
Then he dashed because he was still small and skinny and light. and he went into the secondfloor bathroom because he thought Floater had a screw loose...
and that he would punch Mr. Ivan just to take him down.
and throw his fist at his face
once, twice.
many times again, until it turned into a mush.
What he would have liked to think of instead, if his brain weren’t just good at being a smartass, was running to administration.
But he went into the restroom.
this fucking beast doesn’t even care ‘cause he’s kicking those fucking stall doors one by one.
He doesn’t fucking care anymore.
and I can hear ‘em breaking.
He hears Floater break the second door, smashing the wood. and something hits that stall’s water tank and it squirts and leaks out that the so fast writer can already see the puddle gathering around the toilet under his feet.
He takes another look through the window and at the courtyard and at the and he feels barbed the taste of wall. blood. and figures that he can jump out.
But there’s no use going back to the courtyard.
there’s no use going back there because that beast could still catch me.
There are two doors left and Floater has already stopped the show and now he doesn’t break them.
just opens them, almost gently, like he thought maybe he had made a mistake.
like he really contemplated being expelled or arrested for assaulting a minor.
But why? Why do care now that the damage is done?
he thinks, clutched to the water tank and trying to be quiet.
like he could somehow get away with it?
cwith his little feet on the door climbing the stall.
In his doggish gentleness, Floater tries to open the stall door.
He feels the lock and the weight of the little feet.
and smashes the door open.
and the little feet cannot hold.
and smashes the door open.
and he even feels a hand pulling on his shoe before jumping out.
He runs home, crying and smiling.
and reaches the window pane.
and the writer hits his back against the wall and feels his ribs.
He grabs the barbed wire and jumps to the other side of the wall and out of the school.
his shirt torn, the blood on his palm sticking to his fingertips.
and knowing that Floater can’t get through the window and that no one gets out of the school without running into administration.
never mind the gate, which is closed at all school hours, from one o’clock to five thirty in the afternoon.
fim
Making of