Tongue Tied By Natalie Rodriguez Copyright © 2017 by Natalie Rodriguez Rodriguez – Tongue Tied 1 1. My name is Timothy Green. Yes, just like the movie, The Odd Life of Timothy Green; but not like Sutter Keely, whose opening line I just stole: “My name is Sutter Keely!” Also, I’m not an alcoholic like Sutter is. Life is really like one big movie. Short moments we wish to speed by with. Long moments we sometimes forget about. And in my movie, this is how it would go: Actor…uh, me…clears his throat… From the black, screen, we hear some scribble scrabbles against a hard surface… Okay, Timothy, just keep it simple. Ladies and gentlemen and everyone who’s 4’11 or shorter, my name is Timothy Green (in case you forgot it the first time). I’m 4’11, aka “a shawdy,” as Lisa the random chick in my class calls me. Shawdy means “short,” in case you were wondering. I eat my carrots and broccoli like no other kid—no seriously, I think I’m the only one who likes fruits and veggies? I even prefer H20 over soda pop— “Damn it, Dexter!” I nearly collapse out of my spinning red chair because Dexter my pet beagle is licking my toes—no, not Dexter the serial killer from that show, which mom screams at me to never watch whenever I try to stream it on Netflix. Yet, I’ve seen American Beauty and House of Cards with her a gazillion times, because Space is da man! Seriously, if I ever meet Kevin Spacey aka Lester Burnham aka F.U. (Frank Underwood!), I might faint and then die. Or, I’ll just run up to him and scream, “DAD!” Mom hates when I say that last part, but dad just laughs at me. “Dexter, no!” I yank my Star Wars pillow away from him. Dexter was just…playing with it. Oh, man…not on Yoda’s face. Gross! MY NAME is Timothy Green and tomorrow I am going to ask out the girl of my dreams. There…I said it. The proof? Dear Anastasia, Okay, so that is all I got down on the lined piece of paper in front of me. I only use college ruled paper because I HATE those wide pages; nobody else uses them. The first week of school, he and his friends didn’t like when I was using the wider pieces of paper. They even called me a— Rodriguez – Tongue Tied 2 Oh man, I can’t say it. I look over my shoulder—good, no one is around. Jasper and his friends called me a pussy, which my mom tells me to never EVA EVA EVA say…again. But I didn’t say it—stupid Jasper and his stupid friends did! Mom even washed my mouth out with soap and by that, I mean…no TV for a week. “Shitake mushrooms,” I whisper to myself, dropping my number two pencil onto the desk. Man, I don’t even know what else to write. I mean how the heck am I supposed to write this note and hand it over to…Anastasia? The love of my life. Perfect hair. Perfect eyes. Perfect smile. Perfect... KNOCK. KNOCK, if the door would talk. “Timothy, what are—” “DON’T come in here, mom!” My back is already pressed against the door, wiping the sweat off from the corners of my face. Did I mention my pizza face? At least…that’s what Jasper calls it. “Is Dexter with you?” “Yes! Dexter Charles Manson Jim Jones is with me.” Mom really hates his full name, but dad says it’s genius. “I said Dexter,’ she barks back—see, I told yah she hates it. “God, you need to stop watching the History channel late at night.” “It’s educational though” “Um, okkkkaaaaayyyyyy.” She chuckles. “Well, you need to turn in soon. It’s already nine o’clock—” Yeah, I just usually tune her out. I get it, I get it: lights out by nine blah blah blah blah BLAH WAH WAH WAH. But I can’t just turn in already! My eyes have been burning for the past hour and a half, writing this note to the love of my LIFE. Get yo social skills down, mom. “Love of your life?” Damn it. I say my thoughts aloud too much. “I’m, uh, reciting…We have a presentation tomorrow for Mr. Fletcher.” Rodriguez – Tongue Tied 3 “Ten more minutes, Timothy.” And I hear her feet tip toe away—she’s probably waiting to see if I talk to myself again. I really need to stop doing that. I approach my desk, after lowering to the floor to peek through that small gap between the bottom of my door and the floor: good, no sign of mom. That woman can be so in yo face… Oh, man… Those big bold letters with my love’s name keeps staring right at me. I know, note! Sheesh, I’ll finish ya. Ugh! I don’t know what to do here… Okay, breathe. We’ll just walk back over. Check. Sit. Good boy! Okay, now…pick up the pencil… Really, you’re not even trying— “Alright, shut up, Inner Me!” Inner Me is this annoying voice inside of my head; whenever something good happens, he always has something bad to say. I hate him; why can’t he turn the bad into good? I wrap my fingers around the middle of the pencil. But I end up gnawing onto the center of it, my teeth tasting its yellow wooden design, like a squirrel. I don’t…I can’t… I just CAN’T DO THIS! I close my eyes to breathe one last time… She doesn’t know you even exist. Dang it, Inner Me! But, he’s right… If Anastasia only knew that I even existed, then maybe…just maybe…writing this note to her wouldn’t be so hard. This is impossible. Ugh!!!!!!!!!!!! I slam my head down onto the desk, “Owe!” “Timothy! Bed!” “Okay, mom,” I do my best Yoda gibberish since Yoda on my bed comforter is starring right back at me. Rodriguez – Tongue Tied 4 2. I sit alone, clutching onto a small box of chocolates that I am even asking myself, WHY?! I woke up this morning, all hyped because I had a dream last night of Ana (no…not that kind of dream), where she and I spoke for the first time. I was all hyper like I drank ten cups of coffee (or cappuccino, if you a fancy, huh—hint my Drake reference ;). Anyway… Drum roll please… I finished…the note! Okay, maybe I should clear the air by saying that this isn’t some sad sap story about how I’m into the popular mean girl blah blah blah Mean Girls stuff. Even though that was a good movie. I hear them giggling, even from afar (480 inches away, not like I’ve counted since we started class a month ago) … Ana talks with her two bubble head friends, but my eyes stay on my love…She is so BEAUTIFUL, wearing a pink shirt with those ruffles on the sleeves, which mom wears to her office job—you know, Ruffles like the chips. Oh, look…she has a pink headband on too. God...I just… “Love her…” Fauck! I gotta stop doing that. I triple take over my boney shoulder: good, nobody sees or notices me. HA HA universe…I would be standing under the tree branches too?! What kind is that…oak? My eyes return to Ana… Who wouldn’t want to tell her that she’s just so…perfect?! ME ME ME! I DO I DO! I WILL! I WILL! WOOHOO!!!!!! My shoulders stand taller as I breathe and breathe—cough attack. I turn to cough and luckily there’s no spit up or anything like last time… The last time I was supposed to ask her out, I threw up. Crap. I see Ana and her trolls glancing my way. And keeping your head and body arched over the plants doesn’t help you either. Stand taller! Rodriguez – Tongue Tied 5 Shut. Up. Inner Me. My fingers start shaking again and they tighten around the red velvet colored envelope…the note for her, my love. Why, just WHY are you sitting over here, Timothy, and doing NOTHING? … No, seriously, I’m asking you. Inner Me… Gawd, I’m such a puss…eeee. I can’t even stand up to, uh, myself. Wait, is that even accurate? “Come on, Ana!” I don’t even need to spin around to see who that is, because that’s Lassie’s squeaky, high pitched voice; and not the good kind like an opera singer. “You’ll do so great!” “Yeah, tots, because even Mr. Fletcher says that you’re one of the best.” I’ve always been curious why Emmy (yes, Emmy, not Emma or Emily) sounds like an old man. Okay, not an old man, but one of those “Hey-yeah doll” sort of older looking—okay old, just call them old, Timothy—women who probably smokes and drinks coffee with cigarettes. I wince at the sight. Smoking is bad! Say no kiddos. I finally sit back down on the brick wall bench. It’s only a foot from the cement, but it’s comfy for my tushy— Oh, my GOD! Ana is lookin’ at, what appears to be, a script in her hands. She’s reciting lines…to herself. YES! See, mom—talking to yourself isn’t weird! Oh, Ana…my beautiful beautiful smart girl— “Drool, much!” Kasey is the tall girl in the class; she looks like that tall booger…crap, what’s his name— oh! Gumby.