literature

A Warrior's Garb

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Dedicated to an old friend… wherever you are these days, whatever you're doing, I hope you're having the time of your life. And I really hope to run into you again someday soon.


    Hope this homage is to your liking.

    

   

A Heroine deserves as much.


WARRIOR'S GARB

A Short Story

By

J. Bozlinski


    Funny how legends start. From the humblest beginnings, right?

    I don't know if a legend was born that day my Junior year in high school, but I do know this… it truly inspired. I had not thought of it for some time, but the perfect stars aligned last night… I spoke to the right folks, I saw the right photos, and I remembered something that made me smile and my heart swell with glee…

    Much as it had the first time.

    I don't remember many details about that day. They've mostly been washed away by the bullshit tumult of time long past… but let's talk about feelings, and the people, the events, which brought them on.

    Junior year… so this was, what… sometime in 2006, I'm sure… if not, it was very early '07, because I know school hadn't been in session long. It'd only been my second year at this High School… a laid back pot-powered town with a lot of art and even more gallivanting of the "going nowhere" variety.

    The year previously, I'd reunited with a long-lost love, and lost her all over again. To top that, Junior year would be about the time in my life I would become hooked on an object of unrequited love that would tear at me for the better part of two years.

    I don't know why I mention this now… maybe because I was crushing on the *real* subject of this story, long before any of the other bullshit came to pass? Who knows… she's a hero, so how could you blame me anyway?

    If she's reading this now, she's smiling one of her patented doofy smiles, I'm sure… and that makes me shed a spaz-tastic grin of my own.

    The first real friends I ever made at that school were a unique bunch, to be sure:

    A pudgy video-game geek who went on to make us proud, pursuing a career in the armed forces. He doesn't know it, but no matter how I ragged on him, I'm proud of him.

    A tall, lanky chick-magnet with long blonde hair and a freaky penchant for sexual innuendo and a knack for blowing shit up. I haven't seen or heard from him since I dropped out of school, and it occurs to me now that I *miss* the crazy son of a bitch. I hope he's doing well… he was creepy and crazy, but no matter, because he *was* a great guy.

    There was the chick-magnet's good friend, who got further with the abovementioned unrequited love than I ever did… and I long ago got over the petty jealousy accompanying that fact. This guy was a good one, athletic, funny, good hearted… and the damned thing is, he saved my life once. A few ounces worth of a medicinal overdose would've ushered me off the mortal coil, if this special-effects genius and downright good friend hadn't reminded me that every life, even one as screwed up and crazy as mine was after my parents abandoned me, is a life *worth* living.

    There was the gender-ambiguous RPG fanatic, who went so far as to name themselves after one of their favorite Final Fantasy characters. He identified himself as a guy, and that's his right. I simply quote him as gender-ambiguous because well… took me awhile to peg him *as* a guy, and never mind the fact he was the *hottest* guy I'd ever seen. I'd already considered myself without prejudice, but this gent helped open my eyes a bit further to what it meant to be different, and what freedom really meant. He was another of the good ones, and another I've not seen in far too long… longer than the others, in fact. I really hope he's doing well.

    Finally… there was the girl I'll refer to from this point forward as the "Heroine".

    The Heroine of this story was a quirky, but very attractive, blonde girl in her mid teens. She had a love of super-heroes, The Batman in particular. Last I knew, she was hoping for a career in archeology, and a successful novel or five in her future. From what I heard of her plotlines, and knew of her spirit, I'll be shocked if it doesn't happen for her someday. She deserves it, for sure. She wore classes, she favored a battered leather jacket that I envied to no end.

    She was a nut job like the rest of us, and somehow I think she'd appreciate that designation. If not, my apologies to the heroine… I mean those words in the most revering way possible.

    They'd just implemented this new dress code at our school.

    The school board were the ones who'd voted it in, but we were kids, so of course, we blamed the principal and his lackeys. For one thing, it's fun. For another, if you can't easily strike at the puppet masters, why the hell shouldn't you take your frustrations out on the puppets themselves?

    They're easy targets.

    And in this case, the administration were deserving puppets indeed.

    The Heroine was sitting a bit towards the back, during the assembly in which they broached the news to us. We went from restless to restless and pissed off. Folks, we were young. We wanted our slippers, our flip-flops! And for obvious reasons, the guys wanted the spaghetti-straps and pajama bottoms just as much as the girls did. We wanted to be young, we wanted to be free.

    The principal, the vice principal, they kept encouraging us to ask questions. Questions which they dodged. We'd recover, and fire off another querying salvo, but no… they'd rally and withstand. Why did they want to deprive us of our individuality? They wanted no distractions in their educational environment… that was their standard tagline, anyway.

    Finding oneself… enjoying life, being who you are, discovering who you want to be in the first place… that's something you can't learn in a textbook, in a classroom, or in detention hall.

    It just won't work. Our clothes were a projection, our clothes were the inner coming out… who were these pompous fools to take them away without proper discussion?

    The Heroine felt much the same, I'd wager.

    She asked for the microphone that the Vice Principal had been passing 'round for the students, in order to "make their views heard." Up till now, that had been but a joke. The Heroine apparently aimed to make the punch line a failure, and I'd have to say she succeeded.

    She stood, microphone in hand, and suggested it felt an awful bit like harassment when the vice principal would trek down the halls, and stop random girls and inform them their skirts were too short, their straps too thin, their tops too low. She argued the freedom of expression that her fellow students should have by right.

    She stood up for beliefs, she stood up for all of us.

    To some, young or old, who read this, it might sound foolish. They might see this and think, "Why, the administration and the board were right! Distractions are horrid in an educational environment!"

    I see… perhaps, dear reader. But the fact remains, the students were stirred by the Heroine's words… and I do believe the administration was a bit… perturbed by her rousing display. For they wrested the microphone from her as the cheers went up, and had her escorted from the auditorium. They gave her quite a round of detention, as I recall, and lectured her quite a bit. Claimed she'd been a "disruption".

    And yet… what had she done that was out of line?

    She'd asked politely for the microphone. She'd stated her views, without being vulgar, without being threatening, or anything of that sort. At most, she insinuated our vice principal might've enjoyed his gig as the "fashion police" far too much. But hey, in removing the Heroine, he worsened that rumor a thousand fold. A man with nothing to hide does not throw up a rug, am I right? All she'd done was pointed out that many of her female contemporaries, and the males as well, were perhaps made to feel uncomfortable at times.

    Made to feel unjustly displayed.

    Made to feel confined.

    Made to feel restricted.

    The Heroine spoke that day. And people listened. She made a difference, if only to the life of this writer. Whether she knew it before, I hope she does if ever she reads these words.

    I want all who read this to know, this girl exists. I keep names out of this writing for the purposes of respect, the purposes of legalities, and arguably most importantly, for this reason:

    Perhaps you know this girl, but aren't too fond of her. Or maybe you don't like her family, or her friends… maybe she follows a culture or a lifestyle you detest. But those are issues for another day.

    Today, I offer up for your hearts the heroic stand of what I consider a true Heroine indeed.

    Belittle or bicker if that's your wish.

    But she was wonderful that day.

    Funny how legends start, isn't it? From the humblest beginnings…

    I don't know if a legend was born that day, but I know this… it truly inspired.

    I had not thought of it for some time, but the perfect stars aligned last night… I spoke to the right folks, I saw the right photos, and I remembered something that made me smile and my heart swell with glee…

    Much as it had the first time.
A retelling of a memory I'd thought I'd lost... a girl I knew from my high-school days, who stood up for something some would call trivial with a voice that was anything *but*.

Please, let me know what you think!
© 2008 - 2024 Lordofthe-REM
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