I stop writing, finding a sort of dead end with Mr. Fuentes. I still question it though. He's the only teacher I have this year who is a mix of lenient and strict.
I look over in the margin of my page, seeing that lingering question from first hour: why does he sit like that? Then I remember, I got his name. So, under the question I scribble down his name.
After looking up at the clock set above the doors, I see that we have, give or take, two minutes until the bell rings. So, I put my journal and pencil back in my bag and close it.
While the other kids gather at the door in preparation for the bell, I continue to sit in my little corner, waiting. I don't see the big rush anyways. I mean, if you ride a bus, you have plenty of time to get there. If you have sports practice, you have plenty of time. And especially if you drive a car, you have plenty of time to get there.
I ride the bus because I don't have my liscence yet, I'm only fifteen.
Eventually, the bell does ring, and I watch as the horde of teenagers push each other through the doors. It's very amusing, they look like an angry stampede.
After they clear out, I stand up and make my way to the doors, making my way to the bus lot so I can go home.
After I get to the bus, I stand at the end of it, waiting for my brother. He's in middle school still, so I can't just meet up with him after school so we can walk to the bus together. Eventually, he makes it to the bus, dragging me on it in excitement. Why though? What's exciting about a fowl smelling bus? Nothing, that's what. But, I suppose he has his reasons.
He drags me towards the back and plops me down in a seat, shoving me over so he can sit next to me. "Dude! There's a new kid in my grade. It's a boy. He's so cute!" Mikey practically squeals, jumping around in the seat.
"Ooh," I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him. "What's his name?"
"Ray. Oh my Gosh, Gerard, you have to meet him. His hair is so fluffy and it looks so fun to play with!" Holy crap, I think my brother's fallen in love. It's so cute, I've never seen him get this excited over a boy— well, a person in general.
I just chuckle lightly, I like that my brother is getting excited over something. He usually is just kind of neutral. "Well, become friends with him and invite him over. You know for a fact that Mom and Dad won't care."
"I know," he says, smiling. "I'm just excited. I mean, wouldn't you be too?"
"Maybe," I reply, turning my head to look out the window.
*
When we walk inside our house, Mom greets us with a large smile and a hug for each of us. "How was school for you both?"
"Well, one thing's for sure," I say playfully, "Mikey had a good day." I always take the attention off myself with this question because nothing very exciting happens during my school day. I always tell her that I just spend the seven hours writing in my journal and learning about things that don't matter very much to me.
"Really?" She asks, raising her eyebrows at Mikey, silently asking him to tell her what's happened.
"Thanks Gerard," Mikey grumbles. Inevitably, though, his eyes sparkle at the chance to talk about his newfound obsession. "A new kid came to our school today, he's in my grade, and he's really awesome."
"That's it?" I ask, flabbergasted that he didn't go on a whole spiel like he did on the bus.
"Yes," Mikey says, turning around and walking off. Well, looks like it's my turn. Mom smiles at me, so naturally, a grin spreads across my face.
"I want you to know right now that Mikey is in love with that kid," I say in all seriousness, a slight smile splayed on my lips.
Mom's grin widens, and she goes around the kitchen looking through the cabinets to find something to cook, I'm assuming, for dinner. "Is that so?" She asks, truly questioning me. Usually when she says this question it's playful, she already knows the answer. Not this time. This time she's truly asking if that's the case.
"It is so, Mom. Trust me. He dragged me onto the bus and gushed his little heart out about his hair. His hair, Mom."
"Well, I'm not sure what to make of that. But, what I am sure of, is I want to know how your day went." I internally groan. She already knows how my day went, there is no change in it. I get ignored – for the most part –and I write in my journal.
"My day was boring. I wrote in my journal and learned things that don't apply to anything I'd like to do in the future." Normally I walk away after that to go to my bedroom, but this time I stay put, wanting to know how she reacts to this.
"Well, what did you write in your journal?" She asks, turning to lean against the counter to face me.
"Nice try, Mom, but I don't reveal those secrets," I say playfully, poking her cheek with my index finger.
"Why not, Sweetie?" She asks, sounding almost concerned, which confuses me. What's concerning about privacy? I mean, yes, I could be writing a suicide letter or something morbid like that, but I'm not suicidal, I'm perfectly content with my life. Sure, friends other than my brother would be appreciated, not getting ignored all the time wouldn't be bad, but I don't always dislike those things. I'd rather get ignored than have people constantly in my business. I'm content with the life I have been provided, I don't wish for a better one.
"It's just a privacy thing. It's my thoughts that I don't really want to show people," I answer, awkwardly shuffling my feet. I don't know why I feel like this is such a secret topic or why I dislike the thought of someone reading my journal so much, but it's just who I am.
"What are they thoughts about?" She pries, obviously not getting the hint that I really don't want to discuss this.
"Mom, I promise you, I'm fine, you don't need to worry about it." I kiss her cheek and walk out of the kitchen. When I turn the corner, Mikey is standing there. That little eavesdropper.
"I heard what you said. I wasn't gushing, and I'm not in love with him." He sounds almost accusatory, like he's pointing out a lie.
"Say what you like, little brother, but you, my friend, are in love." I walk down the hallway and to my bedroom, Mikey's calls of denial being silenced when I close my door.
*~*~*~*
Well, this one isnt that great, and I'm sorry for not updating the other two stories, but I have like a thousand ideas for this story and none for the others. I'm sorry ://
Also: RIKEY FTW
And yeah. I love you guys
xoCrashFire
Chapter Two
Start from the beginning
