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(Aerosmith. Sorry. Couldn't resist.)
Blink
Be still, my heart. She knew. Better yet, she didn't care. She was trying to establish a bond between me and Dave by forcing me to be his tour guide. Woo hoo! Must remember to get her something really good for her birthday. After saying goodbye to everyone, I walked off in the direction of the office, Davie right beside me. "So" I said, in an attempt at conversation. "What d'you think of East Brooklyn High so far?" "It's OK" he replied. "If everybody's like you guys, life is gonna be sweet." I laughed. "My name's not really Blink, y'know? It's actually Trey. I just get called Blink because of my eye." He chuckled. "I sort of figured your mom didn't name you Blink." "Yeah." "So, what's Chicago like?" "Think Brooklyn, the noise, the dirt, confusion, etc.-and then square it." "Oh." "Yep." (A/N: Apologies to those of you who live in Brooklyn or Chicago. I made that stuff up!) I was struggling to find something to take about, and when I think, I tend to hum. This time happened to be "I'll Catch You" by The Get Up Kids. It's a really good song. Then I caught myself assessing Dave. Emphasis on the ass. Then I got jerked out of my reverie by the sound of his voice. "Huh?" "I said, 'Is that 'I'll Catch You' by The get Up Kids?" "Oh. Yeah. It's one of my favorite songs. How do you know it?" "They stopped in Chicago on their U.S. tour, and I went to their concert. That was their closing song." He looked down a his CD player, noticed what was in it, and laughed. "My tastes in music have changed a lot since then." "Mine too. Think less Britney Spears and more AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, etc." We walked in silence the rest of the way to the office. It takes the secretary in there FOREVER to get anything done, but she was quick today. She probably thought Dave was cute or something. BAD! "So, Davey-boi, whatcha got this period?" "Ummm..." He trailed off as he looked down his schedule. "Spanish with Mrs. Miller." "I have that class too!" I said excitedly. "So do Spitfire and Dutchy! Awesomeness! But be forewarned!"-He looked nervous-"Spitfire stumbled across a website listing a bunch of cuss words in Spanish, and she cusses out anyone she doesn't like. Just warnin' ya." He turned slightly green. Man. This kid had a face like a rainbow. "But she thinks you're OK, so you're probably safe." DAVE Great. Just great. She cusses out anyone she doesn't like. Hoo boy! The Spanish classroom was on the top floor, and it seemed impossibly hot. Mrs. Miller seemed like a very nice lady, with a big smile, blond hair, and a killer accent for having blond hair and blue eyes. "¡Hola, David! ¿Donde eres?" "Huh?" "She asked where you're from, Davey-boi" Spitfire chipped in. "Oh. Chicago. I forgot how to say 'I am from'." "That's alright," said Mrs. Miller, a little too cheerfully. "We're working on the imperfect tense, so why don't you have a seat near Mr. Parker and Ms. Krueger. You can look of one of their books until we can get one checked out to you." So I sat, and looked off of Blink's book. "Parker?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. "Yeah. My full name is Trey Mathew Parker. But I like Blink, 'cause of my eye, ya know?" "How'd that happen, anyway?" "I was born with one eye slightly bigger than the other, kinda deformed, and with very limited vision in it. So I wear the patch, it's easier that 20 people a day asking how my eye got like that. One girl in 6th grade even asked me if I had a fake eye." I felt slightly ashamed at making him dredge that up. But he didn't really seem to mind too much. In fact, he looked relieved to have gotten that out of the way early on. "Anything else I should know?" I asked. "Yeah. Watch out for Principal Snyder, and Vice Principals Pulitzer and Hearst. Meanest assholes in the whole damn building." "Thanks a lot." "You asked." "Guess I did, didn't I?" Blink just laughed, and raised his hand to answer a question. "¿Si?" said Mrs. Miller. "Iba, ibas, iba, ibamos, ibaron." "Very good, Blink!" Mrs. Miller made a mark on her clipboard. "Dave can you tell us the forms of comer? They're right there on the page." "Ummm..." I scanned down the page. "Comia, comias, comia, comiamos, and uh, comian?" "¡Muy bien!" This went on for another half hour or so. Kind of boring, but tolerable. Mrs. Miller made Spanish more fun than I thought it would be. When the bell rang, I filed out with Blink, Spitfire, and Dutchy. I took out my schedule. "Geometry 7th, then English." "I've got Geometry next", said Blink. "And I've got English 8th!" chipped in Spitfire. (Insert sigh of relief here.) With friends in at least three of my classes for sure, this school ROX! Does a weird happy dance I'm better now. So, I trooped off to Geometry with Blink, where I met the monster: Ms. Penner. She was ultra-strict and ultra-tough. "That class could not possibly have gone any slower!" I moaned to Blink. "Oh, yes, it could have! If she'd gotten into a lecture about God-knows-what, we would've been there FOREVER! Or at least, it would've felt like forever. Hey, usually all of us head down to McDonalds after school? Only thing is, Spitfire usually drives, and she's got a minivan and goes about 80. You in?" A minivan doing 80? There's a sight you don't see every day. I am so THERE!" We said our goodbyes, and I trooped off to English. Now, I thought Penner was bad. But Harder was HELL! She looked at me, told me to find an empty seat, and kept writing on the blackboard. I took an empty seat next to Spitfire. "Is she always like this?" "No. Today, she's in a good mood. Enjoy it." Great. Just great. "OK, we're starting our poetry unit, so I'll pass out this packet, put your name on it, then"-She looked over at some girls who were talking. "Do you wanna teach the class, Leigh?" "No", said Leigh quietly. "Then I suggest you be quiet and pay attention." Perfect. We spent the hour learning about Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Rudyard Kipling, and Alfred Lord Tennyson. During those 50 minutes of pure hell, a guy named Conner accidentally on purpose fell out of his chair twice, Crazer (who also had that class), made weird sounds innumerable times, and mentioned Johnny Depp three times, which annoyed Liz so much she started singing," This is the song that doesn't end!" which, in turn, annoyed Harder so much, she threatened to send Liz to the office if she didn't be quiet right that second. Then the bell rang, and we practically sprinted for the door. "Hey, Crazer. We still on for McDonalds?" "Yeah, I guess. Who all's coming?" "Me, you, Blink, Dutchy, Dr. Allen, Natalie, Jeans, Band Geek, and of course, Davey-boi here." "OK. See you in what, half an hour?" "Sounds good. I gotta loud everybody up, and that usually takes about 20 minutes anyway." "Yeah. I gotta go to Pierce's room, and then to my locker, then I'll head out to my car. "Aight. See ya there." She ambled off, leaving me staring at Liz. "Did you just say 'Aight'?" "Yeppers. Let's go round up them runaway cows!" We found Natalie and Jeans making out in front of Natalie's locker. Dr. Allen and Dutchy were in the band room, rehearsing a very complicated-sounding piece of music for a trumpet, a flugelhorn, and a drum, and then we found Blink sitting in Liz's car, riding shotgun. Spitfire loaded everyone in, turned on the car, then popped in a CD. Dutchy recognized it, because his eyes lit up, and he started singing along. I recognized it, too. It was Switchfoot's new CD, The Beautiful Letdown. "OK, boys and girls! Restrain anything you don't wanna lose and hold on tight!" "Oh, boy" I heard someone mutter. And we SHOT out of that parking lot doing, as Blink had said, around 80. "We were meant to live for so much more! Have we lost ourselves? Somewhere we live inside, somewhere we live inside!" Dutchy and Spitfire sang together. They didn't sound half bad. And we raced toward McDonalds amid the loud chorus of 'Meant to Live'.
Blink
Be still, my heart. She knew. Better yet, she didn't care. She was trying to establish a bond between me and Dave by forcing me to be his tour guide. Woo hoo! Must remember to get her something really good for her birthday. After saying goodbye to everyone, I walked off in the direction of the office, Davie right beside me. "So" I said, in an attempt at conversation. "What d'you think of East Brooklyn High so far?" "It's OK" he replied. "If everybody's like you guys, life is gonna be sweet." I laughed. "My name's not really Blink, y'know? It's actually Trey. I just get called Blink because of my eye." He chuckled. "I sort of figured your mom didn't name you Blink." "Yeah." "So, what's Chicago like?" "Think Brooklyn, the noise, the dirt, confusion, etc.-and then square it." "Oh." "Yep." (A/N: Apologies to those of you who live in Brooklyn or Chicago. I made that stuff up!) I was struggling to find something to take about, and when I think, I tend to hum. This time happened to be "I'll Catch You" by The Get Up Kids. It's a really good song. Then I caught myself assessing Dave. Emphasis on the ass. Then I got jerked out of my reverie by the sound of his voice. "Huh?" "I said, 'Is that 'I'll Catch You' by The get Up Kids?" "Oh. Yeah. It's one of my favorite songs. How do you know it?" "They stopped in Chicago on their U.S. tour, and I went to their concert. That was their closing song." He looked down a his CD player, noticed what was in it, and laughed. "My tastes in music have changed a lot since then." "Mine too. Think less Britney Spears and more AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, etc." We walked in silence the rest of the way to the office. It takes the secretary in there FOREVER to get anything done, but she was quick today. She probably thought Dave was cute or something. BAD! "So, Davey-boi, whatcha got this period?" "Ummm..." He trailed off as he looked down his schedule. "Spanish with Mrs. Miller." "I have that class too!" I said excitedly. "So do Spitfire and Dutchy! Awesomeness! But be forewarned!"-He looked nervous-"Spitfire stumbled across a website listing a bunch of cuss words in Spanish, and she cusses out anyone she doesn't like. Just warnin' ya." He turned slightly green. Man. This kid had a face like a rainbow. "But she thinks you're OK, so you're probably safe." DAVE Great. Just great. She cusses out anyone she doesn't like. Hoo boy! The Spanish classroom was on the top floor, and it seemed impossibly hot. Mrs. Miller seemed like a very nice lady, with a big smile, blond hair, and a killer accent for having blond hair and blue eyes. "¡Hola, David! ¿Donde eres?" "Huh?" "She asked where you're from, Davey-boi" Spitfire chipped in. "Oh. Chicago. I forgot how to say 'I am from'." "That's alright," said Mrs. Miller, a little too cheerfully. "We're working on the imperfect tense, so why don't you have a seat near Mr. Parker and Ms. Krueger. You can look of one of their books until we can get one checked out to you." So I sat, and looked off of Blink's book. "Parker?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. "Yeah. My full name is Trey Mathew Parker. But I like Blink, 'cause of my eye, ya know?" "How'd that happen, anyway?" "I was born with one eye slightly bigger than the other, kinda deformed, and with very limited vision in it. So I wear the patch, it's easier that 20 people a day asking how my eye got like that. One girl in 6th grade even asked me if I had a fake eye." I felt slightly ashamed at making him dredge that up. But he didn't really seem to mind too much. In fact, he looked relieved to have gotten that out of the way early on. "Anything else I should know?" I asked. "Yeah. Watch out for Principal Snyder, and Vice Principals Pulitzer and Hearst. Meanest assholes in the whole damn building." "Thanks a lot." "You asked." "Guess I did, didn't I?" Blink just laughed, and raised his hand to answer a question. "¿Si?" said Mrs. Miller. "Iba, ibas, iba, ibamos, ibaron." "Very good, Blink!" Mrs. Miller made a mark on her clipboard. "Dave can you tell us the forms of comer? They're right there on the page." "Ummm..." I scanned down the page. "Comia, comias, comia, comiamos, and uh, comian?" "¡Muy bien!" This went on for another half hour or so. Kind of boring, but tolerable. Mrs. Miller made Spanish more fun than I thought it would be. When the bell rang, I filed out with Blink, Spitfire, and Dutchy. I took out my schedule. "Geometry 7th, then English." "I've got Geometry next", said Blink. "And I've got English 8th!" chipped in Spitfire. (Insert sigh of relief here.) With friends in at least three of my classes for sure, this school ROX! Does a weird happy dance I'm better now. So, I trooped off to Geometry with Blink, where I met the monster: Ms. Penner. She was ultra-strict and ultra-tough. "That class could not possibly have gone any slower!" I moaned to Blink. "Oh, yes, it could have! If she'd gotten into a lecture about God-knows-what, we would've been there FOREVER! Or at least, it would've felt like forever. Hey, usually all of us head down to McDonalds after school? Only thing is, Spitfire usually drives, and she's got a minivan and goes about 80. You in?" A minivan doing 80? There's a sight you don't see every day. I am so THERE!" We said our goodbyes, and I trooped off to English. Now, I thought Penner was bad. But Harder was HELL! She looked at me, told me to find an empty seat, and kept writing on the blackboard. I took an empty seat next to Spitfire. "Is she always like this?" "No. Today, she's in a good mood. Enjoy it." Great. Just great. "OK, we're starting our poetry unit, so I'll pass out this packet, put your name on it, then"-She looked over at some girls who were talking. "Do you wanna teach the class, Leigh?" "No", said Leigh quietly. "Then I suggest you be quiet and pay attention." Perfect. We spent the hour learning about Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Rudyard Kipling, and Alfred Lord Tennyson. During those 50 minutes of pure hell, a guy named Conner accidentally on purpose fell out of his chair twice, Crazer (who also had that class), made weird sounds innumerable times, and mentioned Johnny Depp three times, which annoyed Liz so much she started singing," This is the song that doesn't end!" which, in turn, annoyed Harder so much, she threatened to send Liz to the office if she didn't be quiet right that second. Then the bell rang, and we practically sprinted for the door. "Hey, Crazer. We still on for McDonalds?" "Yeah, I guess. Who all's coming?" "Me, you, Blink, Dutchy, Dr. Allen, Natalie, Jeans, Band Geek, and of course, Davey-boi here." "OK. See you in what, half an hour?" "Sounds good. I gotta loud everybody up, and that usually takes about 20 minutes anyway." "Yeah. I gotta go to Pierce's room, and then to my locker, then I'll head out to my car. "Aight. See ya there." She ambled off, leaving me staring at Liz. "Did you just say 'Aight'?" "Yeppers. Let's go round up them runaway cows!" We found Natalie and Jeans making out in front of Natalie's locker. Dr. Allen and Dutchy were in the band room, rehearsing a very complicated-sounding piece of music for a trumpet, a flugelhorn, and a drum, and then we found Blink sitting in Liz's car, riding shotgun. Spitfire loaded everyone in, turned on the car, then popped in a CD. Dutchy recognized it, because his eyes lit up, and he started singing along. I recognized it, too. It was Switchfoot's new CD, The Beautiful Letdown. "OK, boys and girls! Restrain anything you don't wanna lose and hold on tight!" "Oh, boy" I heard someone mutter. And we SHOT out of that parking lot doing, as Blink had said, around 80. "We were meant to live for so much more! Have we lost ourselves? Somewhere we live inside, somewhere we live inside!" Dutchy and Spitfire sang together. They didn't sound half bad. And we raced toward McDonalds amid the loud chorus of 'Meant to Live'.