You know what I hate? I hate it when the godforsaken bell rings, and everyone is climbing over everyone else on their merry little way to get home. Feet bounce and shoulders bump against each other, and goddamit if people ignore if your shoes are new or if your shoulders are sore. I have to fight, some five-foot-five little guy against throngs of people, to get to some place that I hate with a passion.
So here I am, in the middle of some stupidass courtyard, watching face after face of snotnosed brats saunter by with groups of closely knit friends following after them.
The reason I was there, the reason I was standing there by myself so forlornly while people walked by with odd stares plastered to their plastic faces, was because one of my friends had requested to meet me here. God, it's already been three minutes, three fuckin minutes I coulda been using traveling the two and a half miles home. I live far from home, about two miles give or take, from this school that I can call my second home. Or you can call it a hell away from home since there's nothing here but frustration.
Five minutes already, and the courtyard is receding in its population. God, but, I'm getting nervous, so what I have to do is, I adjust the collar of my black bowling shirt to stop myself from leaving. You don't know how bad I want to leave, groups of teenagers are starting to stare at me, and I'm scared shitless that someone is going to come over and talk to me. I hate talking, to tell the truth, cause it's hard for me to keep up with words and shit.
I'm not saying I'm special or slow or anything, if that's what your thinking, I just have trouble keeping up with the conversation.
I can't leave, in case you wanted to know, cause I only have two friends in this entire school. Well, I had two friends; Axel dropped out of school, and I hold Marluxia in high regards since he tries so hard to get me into bed, so I have only one friend now. I always let Marluxia tease me with his corny sex jokes and lure me in with his advances, but I always pull out in the last minute just to tease him back.
Since Marluxia is my only friend and all in this Godforsaken school, I'm pretty much obliged to wait around for him when he calls me.
Oh Fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Some brown haired ditz is walking up to me. She removes herself from a group, whose eyes are goring into my forehead like if there's a fucking bull's-eye stabled to my forehead, while she walks, round hips swaying left to right in beige colored pants and hands resting in both pockets, up to me. I'm pretending not to notice her from the corner of my shades, trying to find some way to escape this encounter. But it's too late, I accidentally look at her on my search of an escape route, and she smiles at me with her green eyes.
I find an escape route on time, the dreaded gates that Dante himself had written about, but I just had to smile back at her.
"What's your name?" she says when she's besides me, and here I wanted to slap her so bad. I hate it when ditzy girls that you don't even know come up to you and ask you for your name instead of actually introducing themselves. At least say 'hi' or 'hello' or 'I'm a banana from outer space, and I'm going to suck out your brain,' instead of asking such a ditzy question. I shrugged, a deer stuck in headlights, as my eyes study the peeling yellow gates through my pair of knock-off Raybands
She frowns a little, but eventually a smile plays on her pretty pink lips. She's a ditz, but goddamit, if she ain't pretty.
"Well, I'm Olette, and I came over because you seem kinda lonely," The words roll off her tongue eloquently, and I suddenly hated her for her natural talent of speech. She held out a friendly hand, but being the rude bastard I was, I just stared at it. There was a brief, awkward second, that you could tell was killing the both of us, before her hand recoiled, and she brought it to her mouth to cough into it uncomfortably.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Her eyes are starting to cloud over with a feeling that I sure as hell can't name, and I still don't know why she wants to talk to me. I mumbled a swift 'no,' and told her that I had to leave already. She frowns, and you could tell she regrets talking to me.
"Well, over there," she points to the little group of two boys that she had separated herself from. They waved back from one of those cheap plastic lacquered tables that hurt when you sit on them for too long, and she waved back at them. I just stared.
"Are Pence and Hayner, and you are?" she slumped her shoulders forward, and her face comes close to mine. I smell cheap perfume masking the musk of summer rot as I sigh, and wonder if I should make up some sort of name. God, though, her green eyes hypnotize me into telling the truth.
"Roxas," and she smiles prettily, evidently happy that she at least got a name.
"Well, Rockas," I had cringed inwardly and regretted it so badly that I had told her my name. Word of advice, never give a ditz your name. It doesn't matter if they talk so eloquently; they always find a way to fuck up the pronunciation, and I wasn't in the particular mood to correct her, "Our little group always hangs around the multi-purpose room. If you're ever in the neighborhood, come talk to us."
She takes her hands from out of her pockets, and places them behind her back in a cute pose. I nod and thanked her, then I rushed towards the gates of Dante, without saying goodbye. I forgot about Marluxia, since, because of my ordeal, I had to leave.
I mean, once you say to someone you have to leave in a haste, and you say it to their face and all, then you have to hold out on your promise.
Gods, but, I'm such a rude piece of shit. Even though she seemed like a total ditz, she at least seemed like a nice one. Taking her time to come up and check up on me and all. Fuck, but I feel guilty now.
Who knows where I could have gone with her and her little entourage?
"I like your glasses!" I didn't look back to see if she said it with some sincerity or scrutiny, so I just waved back a little, and walked a little faster.
Then again, I could be wrong.
a shameful parody of, a bad adaptation of, influenced by, The Cacther in the Rye
disclaimer
and
concrit greatly appreciated