Gerard;
It's been a few days since Frank and I have spoken to each other. I continue to subtly--sometimes obviously--watch him to write in my journal, or to just look. It's creepy, I'll admit that, but he seems to only get more attractive and I'm just too stupid and shy to actually approach him like I did days ago. I feel like he really doesn't want me around, like I'm just a bother. I sigh as I walk into algebra, a class I have with the practically flawless boy.
"Hello, Gerard," Mr. Fuentes greets me, towering over me as he does almost every student and teacher.
"Hi," I reply, hurrying to my front row desk. Mr. Fuentes just intimidates me, his height for one, and the fact that I have seen him when he's pissed and, holy crap, I swear if I was the one getting yelled at, I would've shit myself.
The classroom is filled only minutes later, just seconds before the late bell rings. So, Mr. Fuentes makes his way to the front of the class, a cheery smile plastered on his face. "Okay, children, it is Friday, obviously. So, as a treat to you guys, I'm going to give you one worksheet with five problems on it and free time for the rest of the hour."
The class erupts into excited chatter, people turning to their friends, smiles in their faces, words leaving their mouths faster than a rap artist's. It's crazy. It's just a worksheet and a little free time. I don't see what all the excitement is about. Of course I don't though, I don't have a friend to turn to in moments like these. I do have my journal though. With free time and students relaxing into their normal demeanors, I can write about someone.
"Okay, shut the f... Just shut it, I'm not done yet!" Mr. Fuentes says, slipping up and almost cursing. I'd be lying if I said it was the first time. He's slipped up quite a few times, actually cussing a student out before. Talk about frightening. All the students close their mouths eventually, turning their attention to the young teacher. "Alright. This worksheet is a mix of things that we've gone over this chapter. Three out of the five problems are longer than others, and one is a word problem. I promise it's easy. Just use your notes and you'll be fine. I'll be at my desk if you nerd help." As soon as he mentions the word problem, the class groans, showing their obvious hate for that.
Mr. Fuentes passes out the worksheet, making sure everyone has one before sitting down. "No partners, just focus and you'll be fine."
It really doesn't take me long to finish it. As I've mentioned before, I'm pretty good at math. The problems were decent, the word problem being the most difficult.
I pull out my journal quietly, getting a look from the person next to me, them obviously eyeing my finished worksheet. Ignoring them, I flip open to my most recent page which has small sketches littering the margins along with words and phrases that, to anyone else, probably make no sense. They're just little reminders, or things that I thought of or saw that I didn't have time to write out into a paragraph or two.
Ever since I heard the phrase "that's so gay" or any form of it, I've had the phrase written out in the margins of the page that has the written paragraph of it, the scene from the hallway a while back. So, if someone saw that page, which is highly unlikely, they'd see that's so gay! written messily with multiple tally marks under it, signalling how many times I've heard it now that I started tuning in to things people actually say.
I pose my pencil above a blank like, getting ready to write my next entry about, who would've guessed? Frank. I've been writing about him a lot, mostly about his varying appearances. One day he looks ready to just keel over and die, the next day, the bags under his eyes are gone, he looks fine. It throws me off sometimes. A lot, actually.
Just another day...
Frank Iero
Is it normal to think about someone as much as I happen to have Frank Iero on my mind? it's such an oddity. I've never really had my mind settle on one person, not veering off in the path of someone or something else. It's just... I don't know. It's like my mind tries to find every reason in the world to think about this one person. I hate it, yet at the same time, it's interesting and I actually enjoy it shamelessly. My thoughts are being corrupted by a face that's been permanently burned into my memory.
I stop writing at the sudden feeling of eyes on me, like someone is using all their attention and putting me right in their spotlight. So, I turn my head, finding the person directly to my left staring at my, at my hand holding the pencil, at my journal. They can stare all they want but it's going to do them no use.
"Sorry," she mumbles, realizing that I've noticed her attention. "It's just.. You always write in it."
"Yes. And?" I ask, flipping the book closed and setting my pencil down next to it.
"Everyone is curious. Not just me. It's like.. What are you writing about? Surely you've run out of things to write about in the year you've had it."
"That's like saying you've run out of things to think about in the time you've been alive," I reason, tilting my head to the side a little. "There's always something to write about. There's always something to think about."
"So.. What do you write about?" She asks, flickering her brown eyes to my journal.
"What don't I write about?" I answer, frustrating her from the looks of it. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips turn into a hard frown, showing how she doesn't appreciate my unspecific answers.
"You're weird," she declares.
"I'm aware," I respond, looking back down at my journal rather than at her. I can still feel eyes on me. I'm sure it isn't the girl. Or maybe it is. Either way, I just ignore it and flip open my journal, continuing on the passage I left off on.
*
Lifetime Activities is really my favorite class. Not because we usually don't have to do anything, but because it's the class where I can sit here trying to build up the courage to talk to Frank. I don't know why I still feel nervous talking to him, or even thinking about it. We've talked multiple times, even had arguments. I should be able to just walk up to him and sit down and say hi. Right?
Wrong. I find it the most difficult thing in the world. My nerves get all jittery, I'm at a loss for words, I feel like I have to conjure the most perfect greeting with the extent of my vocabulary. It's so crazy.
With more hesitation than necessary, I heave myself up and take slow, snail paced steps towards Frank. He's sat against the bleachers, legs out in front of him with his backpack resting on his thighs and leaning against his stomach. "Hello," I say softly, sitting down beside him in a graceful manner, making sure I don't sit down heavily and make a plop noise with my ass.
"Hi," he replies, not looking again me, keeping his eyes on the Team Sports kids playing a game of basketball.
"Uh.. How are you?" I wonder out loud.
"Fine, I guess." Is all he says, his tone short and clipped, like he couldn't care less about this conversation.
"That's good. Um, what was wrong the other day?" I ask, trying my best to continue with the conversation.
"I told you what was wrong," he answers, still watching the basketball game.
"Not exactly," I reply, remembering that all he told me is that 'not everyone has a good life'.
"I told you enough. I don't want people knowing the details of my home life," he explains, whipping his head over to look at me. "Now doesn't that sound familiar?" At first the question confused me. Why would that sound familiar? But just as quickly as the confusion is there, it's gone.
I don't tell people about my journal just as he doesn't tell people about his home life.
This is going to be tricky. Trying to befriend him, I mean. It's not as easy as just simply having something as normal as music taste in common, it's as difficult as neither of us will bring up a topic other then my journal or his home life. It's like we refuse to actually talk about something else until we get answers. I just refuse to give him the pleasure of knowing what I think and observe about people, including myself, and he refuses to tell me anything, and probably will continue even if I tell him anything.
I guess I could be a more mature person and try to bring up something else. I'm just a very curious person and it always, always, always gets the best of me.
*~*~*~*
I hope you enjoyed it!
xoCrashFire
