That's the song I listen to, quietly, enjoying it. Noticed. MuteMath. And then he's standing in front of me.
"Goggleface!"
"Shut up, Bobby."
"Dorkanator!"
"Shut up, Bobby."
"Circus clown!"
"Shut up, Bobby."
That's kind of how it went. I would sit with my legs kicked up, from a beanbag onto the little shelf on the side of the coach's class, listening to something or other, reading some magazine, thinking up acrobatics acts. And he would constantly volley stupid nicknames at me, and I would simply tell him to quiet himself.
I was a loner, or so I called myself that. I couldn't stand Lili anymore. She actually kind of scared me. She called herself "the last real punk." But yet she wore all the overpriced Hot Topic garbage, with the ridiculous hair she spent hours on. That's not anarchy, that's not nihilism - and I don't like hypocrites. Even if making out with her was great.
And then there was Bobby Zilch, yapping at me, wasting his life away. There was something adventurous about him. Yeah, I should hate him. But I looked at him and saw something. The same thing that captivated me about Lili - the blatant lack of care for anything. Ever. Even his own needs never seemed to really capture his interest. He was a real anarchist - no system. Not a loser wearing a punk rock uniform. I'm not saying I ever was one of them, I'm not saying I want to be one of them; but that's really cool in itself.
Like I said, the same thing that caught my eye about Lili; the Lili I knew, I mean - last year, was the same thing that stood out about him. Buckteeth. Hair he'd never cut or comb if his life depended on it, some jersey and patched up pants. If he wasn't such a jerk, he'd be pretty damn cool.
"Goggalicious!"
"Shut up, Bobby."
Over and again.
I thumbed through the book, Wayfarer, idly. It was a captivating story, I guess. Not as good as people say it is. Too damn depressing. Life is sad enough. Sad like a one-sided romance. That's how things are. I don't even remember getting this introspective. This is the deepest I've ever thought - and it's kind of nice.
I look up for a moment, as he idly picks at his nose, looking at a booger disgustedly and flicking it away - the gears in motion for another poor insult. I kind of see something I never saw before in his barbaric habits. I can't understand just what it is. It feels like love, but guys shouldn't feel that towards other guys, right? That's what everyone says.
He looks at me, and my mind races - racing out of my skin - but I don't lose my grip or close my eyes. To hell with what everyone says.
"Clownatron!"
I look down in my book. "I love you," I mumble. It's quiet, but I know he heard it. He looks off above me, flabbergasted. He's probably doing the most thinking he's done in years.
And all this time, it was staring me blind.
"Wha... what'd you say?"
I look back up. "Shut up, Bobby," I say in a hurried voice. I close my book, stand up and smirk at him. And the summer's set in motion.
I can't believe I never noticed my heart before.