"I love myself better than you, I know it's wrong so what should I do?"
I watch as a young wiry junior grasps the microphone and sings into it. His voice is raspy and deep. It has a good sound.
"What made them do a Nirvana song?" I ask Fern, looking at the musicians playing.
She takes a bite of cheeseburger and shrugs. "Band kids have no rhyme or reason."
I laugh and take a bite of my burger.
Somehow I am suddenly reminded of yesterday afternoon, and I feel that I need to tell Fern about me and Anson yesterday, but I'm not sure how she would respond to it.
After all, Anson is still just the popular quarter back. I can't tell Fern his secret about his past, so I have to alter the story if I tell her anything.
I decide to keep my mouth shut.
"So," I begin, "how's Leo?"
I avert my eyes from the singer and look at Fern.
She smiles and blushes. "Oh he's so perfect." Her green eyes seem to sparkle at the mention of him.
"Did I ever tell you that he plays football?"
I shake my head. She never told me that detail.
"I think you left that part out." I say. Probably a good thing.
"Oh... well, he does. He's not as important as Anson or Bryce obviously,"
There's mention of Anson again...
Thinking back to him, I remember how he was mostly quiet when he dropped me off at home after our walk through the park. I haven't talked to him since then, of course.
I recall hopping out of his car without a word; he in turn sped off as quickly as he arrived.
My mom was still at work, so I didn't have to answer any invasive questions about the sandy-haired, blue-eyed cutie driving me around in a camaro convertible when I got home.
Bryn noticed however, and I assured her that he was just doing me a favor.
She didn't believe me of course. She thought we were dating. I quickly informed her that Anson and I aren't even acquainted enough to talk, definitely not date.
I don't know what we would even talk about after yesterday. We still don't have anything in common, besides a history of depression in the past. And that's not enough to be friends over.
He's still popular; I'm still not. This is how things are.
Wait... is Fern still talking?
"but he's still a part of the team." She says happily. "Actually Indie, I was hoping you would come to Friday's game. You could bring Bryn along to watch."
I think about it. It could be fun..
And something inside of me wants to see Anson on the field...
"Of course the band will be marching halftime, but I could hang with you during third quarter." Fern continues to babble in my ear about the game.
I laugh. "Okay Fine. I'll ask Bryn to come and if she wants to, I will too."
"Yay!" Fern squeals. "You won't regret it. Maybe you could sit in the student section,"
Time out.
"No way." I cut her off. "If I go I'm not going to be with those hooligans."
Fern makes a pouty face. "But it's right beside of the Band stands. We play good music, and you and I could chat in-between songs!"
I sigh. "We'll see."
After my rejection of the student section, Fern continues to babble about Band and their show.
She says something about how they do dance moves during a drum break, but I'm not paying attention. I'm too busy thinking about Anson.
I wonder to myself if his father ever watches him play in any games.
I hope he does, for Anson's sake.
Finally Fern huffs at me. "Indie, are you even listening to me?"
Uhhh....
I shake my head honestly. "Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."
"If you're not keeping up with my band lingo, I can dumb it down." She offers.
That won't be necessary.
"I think I can keep up if I try."
She smiles and starts talking again. When the bell finally rings to signal that lunch is over, I head off to sixth period and then after that, seventh.
I smile at Ms. Meacham and open my book to the lesson we're on for the day. Anson saunters through the door as soon as I've found the right page in my textbook and smiles at me.
Wow- a genuine smile? Confusion prickles in my chest.
"Sup, Blue?" His confident and deep voice whispers as he takes a seat next to me. I shrug, and he smirks. At the same time, Fern walks in and spots Anson. Her face lights up.
She whispers to me as soon as he's focused on something else, "hey- I forgot to ask how work went yesterday."
I frown. "Why do you ask?"
She smirks. "Because someone," she looks at an unsuspecting Anson, "asked me 500 questions after school about you. Luckily for him, football practice got cancelled yesterday and he had free time."
"What?"
She nods slyly. "That's what I was thinking."
I sigh and shake my head. "What did he ask?"
"Oh just the usual, where you work, when you work. That kind of thing. The real question is why?" Her sly smile makes me want to immediately spill my secrets.
I hold back.
"We're just partners in first period. He wanted to chat all about that, and then apologize about the book incident." I tell bits and pieces of the truth.
Fern doesn't need the whole story. It doesn't matter.
She looks dissatisfied by my answer, but shrugs and focuses on my face. "Whatever you say."
I'm sorry, but if I tell Fern about Anson taking me to the park, she'll ask a ton of questions.
"You know, you should come to watch me in band practice for a few minutes. All the football guys train outside in the practice field next to us. A lot of times they're shirtless." Fern smiles a wider and more evil grin.
That was quite the subject change.
I gently nudge her away. "No way. Going to a Friday game is enough."
"They're aren't shirtless then, though!" She protests.
Ugh.
"You're too much. Just go take a nap like you always do." I jokingly command her.
She shrugs and puts her head on the desk. "Fine by me."
••••••••••
At 8 o'clock, I jump into my soft bed and pile the covers up around me. After a long day's worth of school, I'm exhausted.
I turn on my lamp and browse through YouTube videos. Usually I go to bed at about 9. That means I've got an hour to watch videos, uninterrupted.
I start watching an Elder's React video when my phone dings in notification.
So much for uninterrupted. I purse my lips.
When I click the notification icon, I realize someone has texted me. Seeing as how rarely that happens, I can't help but close YouTube and open my messages in confusion. I read the text, subconsciously holding my breath.
Please tell me this is your number, Blue.
Like an apple falling onto Newton's head, my heart drops down into my stomach. I smile to myself. Anson?
I begin typing my reply to him.
Why wouldn't this be my number?
My heart lurches when he replies again. I know that is a bad sign, that I'm definitely new to this, but I continue texting him.
You have a tendency to out-smart me.
I blush a little.
You have a tendency to out-stupid me.
I wait nervously for his responses. Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt. I worry after a moment.
Danggg, Blue. You don't hold back.
I feel relieved when he replies. Again, I think about what to say next.
I can't help it..
I can see that.
So, why are you texting me now? Surely you have others to talk to?
I feel nervous to think that out of Anson's probable thousands of contacts, he chose to text me.
There's no one but you.
That's sad. I type. I'm really thinking about how nervous that fact makes me.
Yeah. I'm fine with it though. As long as this is really you.
Live and in-person... kind of.
So wyd? He asks. I hope it's not your bedtime.
Really? That's hard to believe coming from a guy like you.
I smirk to myself.
I'm gonna ignore that. Again I'll ask, wyd?
Really, I'm waiting on you to say why you're texting me. Got something on your mind?
Why would Anson be texting me? Is this some kind of a joke? I read his next text, more warily than before.
Yeah... Nice weather we're having.
Okay stop avoiding my question.
I bite my lip as he types.
What question?
Haha. You're so clever. Just answer me.
Okay fine. I got bored and you were on my mind. All afternoon.
I feel my heartbeat speed up. are we flirting, or am I just really bad at talking to guys?
I feel paralyzed as I stare at his message. I try to type something. So many questions circulate in my head.
Is he hitting on me? Is he being a creep? Is this a joke? Is it a bad thing?
I keep erasing what I plan to send, before finally just typing sorry. and turning my phone off- thus ending the conversation with Anson in a pretty unfriendly way.
I don't know what he was getting at by revealing something like that.
I just know that I'm sorry, but I don't do emotions other than depression.
That's the only one I seem to be good at.
Hello readers! How are you today? Hopefully this chapter has been good! We're just starting to see how things are between Anson and Indie.
Here's my question: what do you think of Anson?
Now I hope you all understood that in the texting scene, Anson's texts were bold and Indie's were bold and italics. I hope taht was obvious enough. If not, you can go back and read that bit.
Anyways, vote and comment if you liked this chapter and don't forget to add it to your reading lists.
Thanks!
-Malibu Gardner