GONER

6 • Crescent Moons and Stick Figures

Truthfully, I didn't know what to do on my second day of school.

You'd think it would be simple and easy because you went through it the day before, but it was bound to be just as complicated the second time as it was the first.

For example, everyone that knew you, but really didn't, never bothered to stare as much. But they still gave those weird glances and whispers to their friends, which each happened to be both unsettling and aggravating. I think that they happen to everyone, though, no matter how much you know someone. Well, that's what Josh told me.

So here I was, kicking my foot back and forth in the seat beside Josh, and watching him draw a stick figure on the a random piece of paper.

"His head's too big," I would critic jokingly, shaking my head at him. Cutting his eyes at me, he erased the little persons head in mock anger, before redrawing it considerably larger. Rolling my eyes, I pointed to his feet (which were lines, if you weren't aware) and sighing. "Oh god, Josh. What is this? What is this? How dare you. This is basically an abomination to any decent stick figure."

Despite my lack of knowledge regarding art, he let me tell him it sucked, because it did. But it was cute. That, though, I was keeping to myself.

"For gods sake, there is no such thing as a decent stick figure. It's shapes and lines."

"Just like all art," I shot back, and he laughed.

"Just like all art, Tyler," he agreed. "Which, now that I think about is, is actually really accurate," he nodded. "You think a lot. It's cool."

Just then, the teacher, who's name I had forgotten, told us to shut up so they could get started with whatever they deemed more important than Josh's stick figure. Which, in my opinion, must have something to do with either the fact that the world is totally ending, or they've found a cure for stupidity, in order to triumphant him. Because he was just so adorable that my heart almost couldn't handle the small, yet overwhelming, amount of good feelings. I wasn't used to good feelings. I was used to bad ones.

"Here," Josh whispered suddenly, smiling at me softly. His cheeks were tinted pink a bit, and my breath caught silently in my throat. He was handing me his picture.

"Oh, um, thanks. I'll, um, hang this up. Thanks," I stumbled over my words bashfully, sliding it into my notebook. He just shook his head at me, that smile still on his lips, and leaned back a bit, his eyes forward. While he wasn't thinking about what I just said, I was.

'I'll hang this up'? Really? I couldn't have thought of anything better? For gods sake.

~~~

"Why did you agree to take french class?" Josh asked, his eyebrows raised as we walked up the wide staircase, side by side. I thought about his question carefully, because I honestly didn't know. I knew french already, and so it was a bit pointless. "It's one of the most difficult classes ever."

"Well, I already speak French and so-"

"Wait," he cut in, standing still on some random step. His entire face looked so surprised, that I turned around to look behind me, just incase I was missing something. His hand was poised on his perfectly sculpted hip, and he shook his head at me, smiling. "God, you're full of suprises. How do you know french? Who knows french? Besides people that are actually from France?" He exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. My new favorite sound was quickly becoming the noise Josh makes when he's talking and laughing at the exact same time, and so its just this sloppy laugh/sentence and it makes my heart crack. Because his eyes narrow into those adorable slits, and he just kept shaking his head at me and wow.