AN: This might be the longest chapter of this story, i hope that you like it
I had always loved drawing. It was so much fun, and you couldn't help but smile while doing it. The best part of it was all the color, the most amazing of them all being orange. The different shades of orange were countless, and the most amazing orange thing is hair, curly, orange hair. You can go fuckin' crazy with it.
Monday
I was eating my cereal, with chocolate milk. I really shouldn't, but it was so tasty, I really couldn't stop myself.
When it was time, I went to school, dreading it.
Right before the school gates I pulled up my hood and walked by. No way in hell was I going to a place that I didn't want to be.
Instead I went to a nearby cafe, sat down at one of the tables and was grateful that I had brought my sketchbook.
Ten minutes later, I had the beginning of a drawing; Simon shooting himself in the head, Ben with his head on fire, and John over-dosing on books.
I didn't really get why the hell I included him in the picture, but I guess that he had grown on me, like some really creepy fungus.
"Hey," a waitress came over and said. I would never want to work as a waitress, you stand up all day and you'd get minimum wage. At least I think that that is how it is. "You can't sit here for free, you know. Have to buy something or leave."
"Don't be such a bitch," I told her and went back to my drawing. No way in hell was I buying anything, I'd already eaten breakfast.
"No, but seriously, bitch, if you don't buy anything, you'll have to leave."
"And I don't want to buy anything, an I don't feel like laving just yet. Look around, bitch, the place is nearly empty, if they see someone sitting here, it'll make the cafe go 'round."
"Nah, it won't, you'll have to leave, bitch."
"You fuckin' bitch!" I yelled.
Damn, now I would have to find another cafe. I yawned. Or maybe go to sleep, but was I really that tired?
No, I had a drawing to finish. No way in hell am I going to bed without having colored the flames on Ben's head.
Tuesday
At three am I fell asleep, and slept through most of the day.
When I woke up, at three pm, Ben, Simon and John was there. John was, I really should've seen it, carrying my homework.
I groaned.
"Did you have to bring me my homework?" I asked John.
"If y-"
"Don't bother 'bout him, Gina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, and you're beautiful," Ben said, then his eyes went to my chest.
"Ben, it's okay, good to know I'm pretty."
"Ginny," Simon said and laid down on the bed next to me. "Know what happened today? And let me tell you, this is a miracle worthy of the fucking bible!"
"Simon, stop it!" Ben yelled.
"Ben, this is one of the only times that Simon is right," John said. "So stop it yourself."
"Okay, listen carefully. First, I'm not lying. Now, listen."
"Simon, get to the point." I turned towards him, and we lay there, staring at each other. I could see Simon's spots.
"Ben was wrong."
"But that's not big!" I exclaimed and sat up, grateful that I always wore a t-shirt to bed.
"In math."
The world had stopped spinning.
"I just got it wrong, that's nothing weird! Besides, it was so fuckin' tiny that it doesn't matter."
"But it does!" Simon exclaimed.
Ben then sat down at the end of my bed, laying Simons' legs in his lap, and leaning against the wall.
"You can sit in the chair, John. They don't bite."
"You can put the things on the desk, on the mac," I told him. My mac was big, because I needed that huge screen for reference drawings. In my family, printing is out of the question since the printers are evil.
They stayed for the rest of the afternoon, and we talked, joked and ate. It was a lot of fun.
Then they left, and I was left to my own devices. I also sketched, trying to make the drawing look like Bill Kaulitz; I'm not good at realistic drawings. But I loved drawing realistic hair, orange hair especially. Why couldn't Bill Kaulitz dye his hair orange, or red like Gerard Way?
Wednesday
Today, I went to school, even though I missed the first class. But it was math, which I hate since Ben's great at it, and I'm not. Usually Simon and I spend the math classes teasing Ben.
Second class was English, which I'm not good at either, but we were only supposed to read because we had a substitute.
Lunch sucked. It was fish soup. I hate soup. Ben should know that.
"Come, on, eat now. I said that I didn't mean it, please Gina," Ben pleaded.
"It's soup! I'm allergic to it, I'm telling you."
"You can't be allergic to soup," John said.
"Of course I can. It's wet and awful and it's always fish in it. Fishes are evil."
"Take something else then," Ben suggested. "And it's not the fishes, it's the water."
"She doesn't have to eat, Ben, she can become a thin, ugly stick if she wants to."
"Simon! You know that I hate soup!"
Then, after lunch and break, Ben sent me a note. In Ben's scrawl, that I never thought would get better, it was written: I'm sorry.
I wrote back: I get that, and I have forgiven you.
That's a load of shit, and you know it. What can I do to make up for it?
I have forgiven you Ben, so stop it, or I'll break you Benjamin.
Haha.
Thursday
"Bye!" I called out to Simon, John and Ben as they went over to John's to watch some comedy or whatever.
I was going to take the bus to an art supply shop, which lies next to a cafe, it's probably part of their carpeting strategy or whatever.
In the art supply shop, I find a pack of Derwent pencils and a sketchbook on sale, so I buy them.
After that, I go to the cafe where there is a huge line, so I start doodling in my sketchbook while standing in line. It's a bit stupid, I know, but it works, like, a second. Then I give up, since I've decided that it's not worth the ache in my arms to sketch in line.
When it's my turn, I buy what I want, and then I turn around. Fuck. All the seats are taken, and I've even bought a cupcake and hot cocoa today, I deserve a seat.
I could ask that guy, I suppose. He's hot. I elbow my way over there, and then ask:
"Could I sit here?" The hot guy didn't even look up.
"Sure." He kept typing away at his laptop.
I sit down in the chair across him, and put my bag on the table. The hot guy glares at it. I don't care. I take a bite out of my cupcake, no doubt getting glaze on my upper lip, and sip at the cocoa. It's much better than the tea that Ben likes. Or the beer that Simon nicks from his father. Or the coffee that John drinks to be able to read through the night.
I continue to eat my cupcake, and continue my sketch, while watching the hot guy. I want to talk to him! Finally, he stops writing and close the lid of the laptop.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Are you British?" I asked.
"Yes. Are you American?"
"No school now, or what?" I change the subject, tired of the earlier subject.
"Yeah, biology. I hate it, bloody not useful, it is."
"What are you doing here then? Why not be home and sleep."
"Well, I like to write, so I thought that I would be an author, and this is sort of like a cliche, the whole author writing in a cafe, but I like 'em."
"You like cliches?"
"Yup, what about you then?What do you like to do in your free-time?" Now he changes the subject.
"Well, I..." Oh god, what the hell was I supposed to say?
Gina, concentrate on the hand, make the shadow seem real. Then I realized what the hell I was doing.
"I like to draw, as you can probably see," I said with a giggle, thinking myself stupid.
"You're great at it, you could probably make a living out of it," he said, nodding towards the picture I had been drawing. "Though you might want to draw something less morbid."
"So I've been drawing me strangling Ben who strangles Simon, but, I'm just being realistic, it could actually happen."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"And you would actually strangle your best friend, who then strangles his best friend?"
"We're all friends, me, Ben, Simon and John," I told him.
"What, you're the only girl?"
"Yeah, I guess, never thought of it that way. We're all friends."
"Is there anyone in your group of friends who has crazier hair color than you?"
"Simon, his hair's pink."
"That's..." the guy trailed off.
"Sorry, I didn't get your name?" I asked.
"I'm Guy," he said, and then seemed to regain the ability to speak. "Pink hair, isn't that a bit gay?"
"Simon doesn't think that way, so I guess not. It's more like, here am I, now stare and say that I'm handsome."
"And what's your name? This is bonkers, I know your friends names but I don't know yours."
"Gina."
"Like Tina," guy said. "My mum's name is Tina."
"I remind you of your mom?" This I just great, I've found a guy that's interested in me, and then I remind him of his fuckin' mother.
"No, not at all. You're much more fun."
"Great. Listen, I've gotta go," I told him and collected my stuff.
"I didn't-"
"Shut it," I told him tiredly.
I left my now empty cup and the rests of my cupcake on the table, and went home.
Bastard, asshole, jerk, idiot, moron, god, I hate him. I hate everything about him.
Friday
"Right, what do you want to see?" John asked.
"What've you got?" I asked. Ben, John and Simon stared at me.
"Do you expect me to know all the movies by title?"
"Don't you?" I asked. They continued to stare at me.
"It's over a hundred movies, Gina, and he thinks that his books are better so those are the ones that he has memorized," Ben told me.
"Ben!" John yelled, expect- no, that's not it. It's something that John has said before but I can't remember it. This is a very good argument to having a computer for a brain, connected to the internet with perfect memory. Then I'd know that word.
"Not an action film," I told John.
"Yeah, that's the one thing that he doesn't have," Simon told me and I gaped at him.
"You're a guy, you're supposed to have action films! Like Superman and the Hulk, or whatever."
In the end, we watched a movie called Pay It Forward, which was John's mom's favorite. She started crying at the end, when he died.
The best part of the evening was the popcorn war, that we then left to John to clean up.
Saturday
My cell was ringing. I answered.
"Hey?"
"It's me."
"Who?"
"Ben."
"Right."
"Hey, Gina. Could you help me dye my hair black?" Ben asked.
"What?"
"Could you help me dye my hair black?"
"Okay," I answered.
Ben came over, with a packet of black hair dye, and we did it. The result was great, Ben should've been born with black hair.
He looked in the mirror and ran his hand through it, then smiled at the mirror. He looked good, and much older than he was.
"You look great."
"I know." Ben gave me a shit-eating grin.
Sunday
"Dad! There's no milk left!"
"Go buy some then!" he yells back.
Grumbling, I take some money from the big jar on the kitchen counter and stomp to the nearest store.
I walk through the aisles, trying to find the dairy one, it shouldn't be this difficult. Yes, there it is.
"Right, hello," a voice says behind me.
That little bastard, again.
"Let me guess, this is yet another cliche. Follow the pretty lady that you're in love with into the store where she's shopping. Viva Blackpool is my favorite series, you can't fool me."
"I am actually shopping," he informed me. "Perhaps you're a bit too self-centered."
"You're not shopping! I know that that's a fuckin' lie."
"So, maybe you're right, but it's like I said, cliche's are wonderful," he expla- no, that's not it.
"Then you don't actually buy tampons?"
"No," he said.
"If you're not buying all of that, maybe you could pay for the milk?" I suggested.
"Then I'd like a kiss, first."
"You'll have to pay for the milk first," I told him.
"All right."
We go to the cash register and he pays, then I run off, and jump onto a bus, and pump my fist, and flips the bird.
AN: Please review, and tell me what you think