Saying I was bored is an understatement. I was about ready to start beating my head against the table just to shake things up a bit. I gazed longingly at the clock. My forehead really did meet the desk with a loud, painful sounding thud Seven forty five? I could have sworn it was almost lunch.
I lifted my head and saw John giving me a confused look with one eyebrow raised. "You know Dick didn't literally mean 'cracking skulls'."
I blushed, embarrassed. He took out a carton of cigarettes and took one, then offered the box to me. I grabbed the death stick and reached for my lighter in the back pocket of my jeans. He put up his hand to stop me. "Check this." He struck a match and brings it to the sole of his boot, somehow lighting it on fire. "My lady." He joked, offering his burning shoe.
"Thanks." I inhaled, then blew out a cloud of smoke and leaned back, kicking my feet up on the desk. I watched John extinguish his burning boot and pretend play the guitar. His movements were practiced and precise, I realized he probably did play. Wow, hot and talented. Stupid hormones! I don't get close to people! I don't like people! I'll just leave soon anyway! He caught me staring, and flicked his hair back, and gave me a small nod. Shit, I've got it bad... Fuck sensibility. I'm a teenager, it's my job to be a hormonal idiot. I grabbed the essay paper from the table and began writing again. Subtlety has never been an art I've mastered, and I'm not one for playing hard to get. I tend to say what I think, and I may have just thrown myself off the cliff.
I like you I hoped those three words wouldn't mean my doom, as I slid them across the table.
He read them and his eyes widened. He wrote back. I like you too
It was my turn for the wide eyes. That wasn't really what I was expecting. My heart did a little happy dance. Emboldened by success, once again I threw caution to the wind, and moved so my back was pressed up against him, leaning against his chest. He stiffened at first, surprised by my boldness, before settling in an wrapping his arms around me. We sat like that for a while, my eyes feeling heavier, I soon succumbed to sleep.
"Wake up!" I ignored Vernon, enjoying the feeling of John's embrace.
"Who has to go to the lavatory?" I had to admit I did, apparently same as everyone else.
When I returned to the library, I shot the clock another glance. Ten twenty two. John was ripping the pages out of thick book and throwing them about the room, while I crouched beneath him, intent on thoroughly screwing up the card catalog drawer. It was the least we could do for Dick, a thank you gift for his troubles.
"That's real intelligent."
"You're right. It's wrong to destroy literature." He agreed with the jock, continuing to shred the book.
I look up. "It's such fun to read." I added sarcastically. I wasn't much of a nonfiction reader.
"Molet really pumps my nads!"
"Mol-yare." The princess corrected, much to my surprise.
Queenie has a brain! And who would have thought, she's actually smart!
I guess Johnson was feeling left out again. "I love his work." He sounded enamored. A fist full of pages flew at him, causing him to duck behind a column.
"Big deal. Nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy." John stated, sounding bored.
Sporto scoffed. "Speak for yourself." He leaned against the railing.
We both glared at him. "Do you think I'd speak for you? I don't even know your language."
The jock ignored us and turned to Red. "Hey, you grounded tonight?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, my mom said I was but my dad told me to just blow her off."
"Big party at Stubbies, parents are in Europe. Should be pretty wild."
Oh, now I understand. He's trying to make us jealous. Good luck Jockstrap, who gives a fuck?
Red seemed intrigued. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, can you go?"
"I doubt it." She sighed.
He furrowed his brow. "How come?"
She looked down and almost seemed sad. Like her prissy rich girl facade dropped for a second. "Well 'cause if I do what my mother tells me not to do, it's because because my father says it's okay. There's like this whole big monster deal, it's endless and it's a total drag. It's like any minute...divorce."
I understood how she felt. When I was eleven, my foster home was great. The parents were kind and so were the kids, they loved me and I loved them. Then for whatever reason, they started fighting, always yelling and disagreeing. The poor kids were ripped in half, forced to pick sides. I couldn't hack it, so I left. But Red doesn't have that option.
"Who do you like better?" It was John, jolting me from my thoughts.
"What?"
"You like your old man better than your mom?" It was an honest question.
She shrugged her shoulders again. "Their both strict."
"No, I mean, if you had to choose between them." He explained.
"I dunno, I'd probably go live with my brother. I mean, I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me. It's like they use me just to get back at each other." As much as she irked me, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
"HA!" The sudden noise made us all jump. It was the girl in the back. I had completely forgot she was even here. She blew her hair out of her eyes and grinned.
"Shut up!" Everyone stared at me, shocked. I suppose I deserved that, after spending the last couple hours ragging on her. No one expected me to come to her defense.
Jockey rejoined the conversation. "You're just feeling sorry for yourself."
I opened my mouth to tell him off, but Red beat me to the punch. "Yeah, well if I didn't nobody else would."
Sympathy gone.
"Aw, you're breaking my heart." The jock's words were coated in sarcasm. For once, I completely agreed with him.
"Hey Sporto." John called.
"What?"
He jumped off the railing where he had been siting an stood directly in front of Jockstrap, looking down on him. "Do you get along with your parents?"
"Well if I say yes, I'm an idiot, right?"
"You're an idiot anyway, but if you say you get along with your parents well you're a liar too." He walked away, thinking he had got the last word in, only to have a pissed Sporto push him from behind. He whirled around, caught off guard and put on edge. This could get ugly.
"You know something, man, If we weren't in school right now, I'd waste you!"
They squared off, so close they were almost touching. John puts his hand out with his fingers down. "Can you hear this? Want me to turn it up?" He flipped his hand, giving Jockstrap the bird.
Poor, oblivious, idiot Johnson tried to diffuse the situation, laying a hand on both of the boys' arms. "Hey fellas...I mean..." They both rudely shrug him off. The jock glared at the both of them and stalked away. "I don't like my parents either, I don't-I don't get along with them. Their idea of parental compassion is just, you know, wacko!"
John clapped him on the arm. "Dork?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a parent's wet dream, okay?" He started to walk away, only to be called back.
"Well that's a problem!"
He turned back. "Look, I can see you getting all bunged up for them making you wear these kinda clothes. But face it, you're a Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie! What would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?" He used his hands for emphasis. The poor kid hung his head, thoroughly shamed.
I honestly think Jockstrap was looking for a fight. "Why do you have to insult everybody?"
"I'm being honest, asshole! I would expect you to know the difference!"
"Yeah, well he's got a name!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!" He turned to the nerd. "What's your name?"
Well that totally killed his argument. Dear Jockstrap isn't one for thinking things through.
"Brian."
Sporto was triumphant, though the reason why eludes me. "See?"
John looks back at him. "My condolences."
That was rude. I think Brian is a fine name.
A/N Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and an extra huge thanks with marshmallows and sprinkles on top to XenaHime53 and scripturient3201 for reviewing! I know it's a while away, but I would really like to hear if you people think I should continue the story beyond detention or not. If you have any ideas, don't hesitate to tell me!