My Last Year

He Stole My Notebook

      Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

      I glanced up at the persistent but slow clock. It was 11:36 a.m. meaning there were still four minutes before we got out for Lunch break. I began to tap my pencil on my desk impatiently. This day was already taking too long. My ears had already droned out Mrs. Hansen’s lousy lecture voice and had recently picked up on Jason’s conversation with Leo and Jack.

      “My dad helped me fix it up, and I’ll be taking it to Pertson this Saturday.” Jason grinned with pure satisfaction. He’d been gloating about this new motorcycle he’d pulled out of a junk yard. According to Jason though, it just needed a few wires replaced and new paint and tires.

      Jason noticed me listening into the conversation and smirked, winking at me. “You like bikes, Molly?”

      I sat up straighter, clearing my throat. This was the first time he’d noticed me in a few weeks. I nodded slightly. “They’re cool, fast, and exciting.” I said, keeping my voice low.

      Jack, Jason and Leo all raised their eyebrows, like they were impressed that I did. “But they’re dangerous.” I finished. I would’ve laughed at their expressions had the bell not rung: everyone leapt to their feet and snatched their belongings off of their desks, speed-walking towards the door. Jason—who sat right next to me—bumped me just as I had grabbed all of my stuff. Since I hadn’t had enough time to get a proper grip on it, my books and notebooks went flying…but I caught my pencil pouch.

      Jason swore. “Ah, shoot, I’m sorry, Molly.” Then he turned to Leo and Jack. “Go ahead, I should help her get it all.” Without hesitation his friends rushed out of the room to get to lunch. Instantly Jason bent down and started picking my stuff up.

      “You shouldn’t do that.” I said. “I mean, it’s fine. It was an accide—no! Don’t read that!”

      He had picked up my red notebook; the one that I write my next blog in, and basically; that’s the only thing I can pour my soul out into. So here I was: trying to get my Diary out of my crush’s hand as he sat there, reading the first—and worst—page. I took a hasty moment to thank God that I didn’t have anything about Jason being the love of my life in there.

      Jason kept reading, keeping the notebook out of my reach, and using his broad shoulder to block me from getting around him. I can’t lie; this sort of interaction with him made me super happy, but then again, he’s reading my soul, remember.

      I finally stopped trying to get around him and began to clean up my other things, muttering just loud enough that hopefully he could hear it. “First he elbows me in the arm, then he conveniently picks up my Journal, and now he’s got the nerve to read it!”

      I was reaching for the last of my books when his hand flashed out and grabbed it first. He handed it to me. “Thanks.” I mumbled. “Where’s my jour—err, other notebook?”

      Jason’s face went mischievous, and a twinkle sparked from his green eyes. “You’ll get it back eventually.”

      I laughed, thinking that he was joking. But then he started walking out of the classroom. “Jason! Seriously. Don’t take it, please! It’s mine, and—“

      I was just following him out the door, rounding the corner when I was stopped short. He had turned around to wait for me to come out of the classroom, and now I was barely four inches away from his nose. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist.

      “Don’t worry. I won’t show it to anyone.” He whispered, his green eyes daring me to question him. I couldn’t look away as I spoke, but I was able to narrow my eyes.