Charlie Said To Me

Blending together, swirling in confusion,
I can hear them bicker.
As though it were a classroom, I take attendance.
Mom?
Oui? C'est quoi?
Izzie?
Uhhh, my name is actually Death, but here! (Haha)
Mrs. Brune?
Look at that color scheme. Wow!
Mrs. Rooney?
1,2,3,1,2,3,1,2,3
Charlie?
Just skip the work today. You can't focus anyway.

Everyone is present and accounted for,
but I know there are some nameless ones
whose voices are familiar, but unfamiliar too.

We're out of nowhere.
Nonsense. She's heard us somewhere, she just doesn't know where.

I'm not a she, I'm a he. 

But unless you've got something between your legs,
you'll always be seen as a confused girl.


That's not true. I can change my body, but for no one but myself.

I kissed a girl and I liked it!
1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4, and that's a B#
She hasn't played in months, so shut it.

He. I will play again.

Go ahead. Play and see if you still got it.

Okay, I'll play for a few minutes.

You don't have it anymore. Don't bother.
You've got it in there somewhere, you're just rusty.

I've got it. That's what Charlie said to me. I've got it deep inside.

Fix your keyboard. You're missing like 5 notes.

I know, I'll see how to fix it.

Sure, but you never do. 

Shut up, I'm playing.

C'est belle. J'aime beaucoup ce chanson.

It's all quiet except for the sound of Mrs. Rooney's soft voice going
1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4
until the song ends and the conversation starts again.

Rovva

QC

YWP Alumni

More by Rovva

  • Eleven Years

    For eleven years, I've been a part of the YWP community. I started when I was 11 years old and I went by my old name back then. I used to publish my work here all the time, but much of my publishing has now moved to my university.

  • A Nine-Year Journey

    For nine years, I've been a part of YWP and for nine years, I've felt seen by this community. Even as I've grown up, I've watched new young writers come and share their thoughts, emotions, and stories.
  • Beaming writer

    In sixth grade, our class had a show-and-tell every week,
    and every week, a small handful of students were selected to participate in the next one.
    As I was selected, anxiety kicked in.
    I wasn't really proud of anything.