Warp Speed

Essay excerpt from

http://petleopard.com/Books_by_Viqi_French.htmlDaddy’s Gonna Buy That Baby a Jaguar: A Suspenseful Life with an UproariousBite. Copyright © 2007 by Pet Leopard Communications, Ltd. All right reserved.Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used orreproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except by areviewer who may quote brief passages in an article or review. For information,contact http://PetLeopard.com.

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Viqi French

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Warp Speed

I’m late for Biology so scamper to the corner of Euclid and LeeStreets – struggling with my too-hot purple gym bag and clumsily fasteningrhinestones on my double-pierced earlobes – just in time to catch the 8:05. Iclimb on the bus and flash the driver my pass and a smile, and suck in the newlyfamiliar air of teen spirit: a headachy blend of lemony Jean Nate, enough leather jackets to out-stink a cattle ranch, and a din of trivial conversations at decibelshitherto unknown.I look for familiar faces; none of my regulars are here. My friends caught theearlier bus – on time, I’m sure. I recognize but do not know well a few fellowfreshmen. They, like me, are virgins just two months into the fast-paced world of high school. They, too, probably think this environment a little strange, wherecourting and socializing take a backseat to learning. Most of us are doing a fine job of fitting in, nonetheless.I spot only a few empty seats and want the one all the way back, away fromthe fray. I’m running so late, the least I can do is study. I wind through the aisle,around clusters of chatty students and squeeze into the wide, rear seat: The Vibrator. I dig in my gym bag and bring out my Biology text. I’ll try again tounderstand the science of attraction I’d only glanced at last night.I, however, am only capable of studying for the first ten minutes of thisnormally uneventful ride. Because halfway to school, my biological clock resets towarp speed…

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Viqi French

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Who boards the bus at Kingshighway but a guy so gorgeous, he looks rippedoff the cover of GQ – the men’s fashion magazine with hunks so heavenly, theyseem to have spilled from the Big Dipper. How this twinkling star missed theglossy page and landed on an aged bus in St. Louis qualifies as the Eighth Wonderof the World. Because he is – down to the molecules – the Man of My Dreams.M.O.M.D. is six-two-ish and has the cleanest, most golden complexion I haveever seen. Above his chiseled, top-model face soars a radiant bush – giving himthe silhouette of a modern-day King Tut. Despite his roomy black jacket, I cannotmiss his majestic torso.He’s older, but carries a few books tucked under his muscular arm. Hello!He’s a student at my new school, eye-candy I have never seen before. What aremarkable twist of fate: suddenly, my off timed morning is grrreat!Like Elvis, I am “shook.” I can steal but little glances at him. It seemsdangerous to take too strong a dose of him – the same way you’d dare not look naked-eyed at an eclipse.My burning eyes snap back to the pages on my lap. I read the twaddle againabout the glittering bioluminescent particles of a jellyfish when released in water.But I might as well throw my textbook out the window. There can be no moreilluminating example of this phenomenon than the stunner who’s just waded intomy world.Like the glittery jellyfish diagrammed on the page, this guy is lit with allure.Suddenly I’m feeling lit up, too! So much that I grow self-conscious and hope noone can tell how flustered I am. But then, based on what I’m reading, everyother girl on the bus is likely flustered, too. How we’ll endure another ten minutesin the same space as this heartthrob, I wonder. We could wind up on the news, abus in flames.I steal another glance. In all my fourteen years, I have never seen anythinglike this caramel-coated Adonis. If my boyfriend, Andy, rates about a nine in thelooks department, King Tut here is kicking twenty in the teeth. Mine areclenched; I’m as tight as a bad clam.In more ways than one, it’s a bumpy ride. I’m sliding down the seat. I squirmback in place, noticing a tingling sensation against the fake leather warming mybottom. I really try to focus now and read: When a shrimp comes to nibble on anangler fish’s glowing, bacterial lure, the fish – with its mouth full of needle-sharpteeth – swallows the shrimp. I understand these words, but fail to extrapolate themessage to the perilous waters in which I am treading. I have to meet him, buthow?