𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 ✰❤︎ 𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

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Chapter One

~

There are approximately 9 months of school. That's about 39 weeks, 190 days (minus the weekends), and 4,560 hours. All that time spent in a dreaded brick building, filled with exhausted and impatient students.

It's where I am now. The torture that we call school.
And thankfully, it's a Friday in this hell hole.

But with every positive comes a negative, and in this occasion, it's watching the clock slowly tick down to the weekend.
Hour my hour.
Minute by minute.
Second by second.

And its the only thing that sucks about Friday's.

"Y/n? Y/n!" A hand snaps right in front of my eyes and I quickly look back to Gaten, who was shoving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down his throat.
"Why do you keep looking at the clock?"

I throw him a sarcastic "really?" look and let out an impatient sigh.
"Why do you think genius?" I ask, and grab out a gogurt from my lunch box.

The curly haired boy chuckles and rolls his eyes, peeling off the crusts from his bread, "Staring at the clock won't make the weekend come faster, you know?"

I grunt and squeeze the whole packet of yogurt into my mouth at once. I should start packing two of these.
"Don't remind me."

Gaten Matarazzo.

Friend number one. Short statue, curly hair, blue eyes and one of the most caring people I know.

Gaten and I met sixth grade at Eagle View Middle School, in science when we were partners for a Rube Goldberg project.

Neither of us did the work in class because we're lazy (which is why we get along so well), and we'd often have to go to one another's house to catch up on our missing work.

"Does anyone have a dollar? I saw a cosmic- brownie-looking-thing in the vending machine and I'm hungry as fuck," says the black haired boy next to me, slouching over on the lunch table with his hood up.

"I told you to start packing a lunch!" I nudge him and he rolls his eyes, "Besides, you always complain about how hungry you are and then never pack anything to eat."

Finn Wolfhard.

Friend number two. Tall figure, black curly hair. Insanely hilarious. The kind of friend that exists and you start laughing like a fool.

Now unlike Gaten, I met Finn in kindergarten, back when he was shorter than me in height. Our friendship began when he wanted to color his sun with a yellow crayon, but I told him the sun is orange, and he should use that color instead.

The boy insisted on yellow. I insisted on orange. Yellow. Orange. Yellow. Orange.

We both started fighting over what crayon he should use, until the teacher got involved and told us that we can each draw our own colored sun.
For the rest of that day, every time I saw him I'd mumble "orange" and he'd mumble "yellow."

The start of a great friendship. And my longest one.

"Here you go man," the last brown haired boy asks, handing Finn a dollar while munching on some goldfish he'd packed in a ziplock baggie.

Finn shoots him a short and quick smile, before sitting up, and sliding out of the lunch table.
"This is why you're my favorite."

"Hey!"
"Bitch."

Me and Gaten say at the same time, both giving Finn a look as he throw me a wink and then dashes toward the vending machine.

"Did he lie?" The brown haired boy asks with a smirk.