November 7, 2012: A
It was Wednesday, and I still couldn't get that girl out of my head. I didn't know why – it was ridiculous, I knew – but I couldn't help it.
Sighing in frustration, I sat down angrily behind my desk, my bag hitting the floor with a loud thwack!
"Dude, you okay?" asked that blonde kid, the one who looked like the girl's friend, tapping me on the shoulder. I nodded, running a hand through my hair, and he cracked a smile, extending his hand. "I'm The Gasman, but you can call me Gazzy."
I raised an eyebrow, shaking his hand. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't ask," he laughed. "You probably won't want to know."
After I nodded, we lapsed into an awkward silence, and I turned around again as the bell rang.
When class ended, I felt his hand on my shoulder, and he nodded at me, smiling slightly. "Her name is Max," he told me, before standing up and walking out, his bag slung on his arm.
How did he know I was thinking about her? I wondered, glancing at the door as I slowly slipped my bag onto my shoulder.
GAZZY IS PSYCHIC.
~Anna Ride