Outcast

chapter 2

Whoever invented high school did such a lousy job. Just putting that out there.

I walk into Geometry 6th period and get to see all the dumb asses think they're comedians because they smart mouthed the teacher.

Dear God, please help these poor souls realize that the teacher is just doing his job and they're making school a lot harder than it needs to be.

Niall Horan was really the only dumb ass that didn't act like a total dumb ass all the damn time.

I've never really thought of myself as gay or straight, but if their had to be one person out of this hell-hole that really sparked my interest, it would be Niall.

The first time I really noticed his lack of dumb ass-ness was towards the beginning of the year when we were forced to write a report about interests in Advanced English.

Niall wrote a poem about how on the outside he looked like some hot-shot football star, but on the inside he felt like a mix of Morrissey and a sucky cover band that only plays break up songs. It may not make sense to you, but it's poetic as hell and I loved it. Too bad he hangs out with too many dumb asses for me to get near him.

Before I know it, the bell rings and I'm off to Advanced English, with the one and only Niall Horan.

I walk in and sit in my normal seat in the back. I actually enjoy this class because it's a senior class and I'm a sophomore. By the time you're a senior, most of the people seem to get over their personal drama crap and realize that high school is a small point in your life and there's a lot more important stuff in the future. I wish I was a senior. Sophomores suck.

Niall walks in and sits two rows in front of me. I'm glad I sit behind him, I have a perfect view of him scribbling lines of poetry and notes into his journal. He always flips the pencil around in his hand when he's trying to think of lines, I love it. Call me obsessed, but you wouldn't get it unless you saw it.

I've never actually spoken with Niall before, but I don't really want to. What if he really is an idiotic jock and my fantasies are ruined? I'm fine imagining him as a poetic god with fading dyed blonde hair and reading glasses. It's really hot if you think about it.

I quickly daze off in class while the teacher is talking, too busy thinking about a poetic god that listens to the Smiths in the fall.

Okayyy thanks for reading guys! I'll be updating again maybe later tonight! Comment what you think!