3:30pm

12: sad poetry

       <Look at your way, look at your way. I give you all I got, but you killing my time. I give all I got, but you killing my vibe . . . these your games, better stop it>                   

•°•°•°•

"So, I'm like, do you think fishes fart? And then Gabe goes, 'Hell, yeah. I mean, I know my grandma's goldfish did once because his tank smelled like shite. And he had his girl in there!'"

The other three guys around the table, Brent included, boomed with laughter from the 'joke' cracked by Harrison, the football team's midfielder. I, on the other hand, was still waiting for the punchline, a confused look on my face.

"Oh, shit. Mayday. Mayday. The lady does not consider the joke laughable," Gabe said after he realized I hadn't joined in on the laughter, looking across the table, sea blue eyes trained on me.

"Bad joke, man," Caleb, another one of Brent's friends and the captain of the lacrosse team, reached out and wacked Harrison on the arm.

"Ow!" Yelled Harrison. "Then why did you guys even laugh?"

"I didn't really find that funny too, but sometimes, you just gotta laugh anyway." Brent leaned down and whispered into my ear.

"I heard that!" Harrison scowled at Brent from across the table, raking his floppy dark bangs out of his eyes.

I couldn't help smiling then.

Today was Monday and the first time I was eating at Brent's table (Gregory and I did this exchange thingy so he was currently with Mikayla at my previous table).

Brent had really cool friends. I knew this much because none of them asked irrelevant questions, and ever since I arrived at the table, it's been all laughs, jokes and more laughs.

My over-analytical mind had already accessed and evaluated each of their personalities. Enough to know that Harrison was the goofiest of them all. He literally lived for the laughs. Hakuna Matata, his motto. A cute Asian face to compliment his goofy nature and a brain that never stopped coming up with funny things to say, he was the life of the table.

Gabe was the 'fun' guy. Diehard player, with his million dollar smile, dreamy eyes and ginger hair, but in essence, easy to get along with. He was actually the one that had come up to my table where I had been with Mikayla and her three other friends and sweet-talked me into eating at Brent's table.

Finally, there was Caleb. He was what you'd call unpredictable. One minute quiet and the next popping into conversations like he'd been talking the entire time. Shoulder length dark hair that was, today held up in a ponytail, clear blue eyes and tattoos gracing his left forearm and right bicep, which I could see clearly now because he had on a blue, sleevless, button-down denim jacket, he looked like a bad boy out of a movie set in the early 2000s. Which, in retrospect, he was not.

"Hey, you gonna finish that? I mean, its almost time." Gabe nodded at my tray after the second round of laughter had gone across the table.

I looked down at my almost untouched tray of extra greasy fries, chicken sandwiches, an apple and a mik carton.

Since my encounter with Stephen on Friday evening, after Jake had dropped me off, I hadn't really had much of an appetite.

I'd spent the weekend working up the courage to ring him until finally, on Sunday night, I put aside my anxiety and the countless 'what ifs' and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. I'd left a bunch of crappy, unreasonable voice notes and hung up. Since then, I still hadn't heard from him, although I did spot him at the bike rink when I arrived at school today, parking his bike.