32: Pete and Patrick Share Words

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Advanced Theatre was a blast. 

Mr Miranda was great, and he gave everyone that made the class a basic rundown as to what the year would be like, then had them getting to know each other in the best way possible: improv.

Patrick was doing a skit with someone named Chris, which turned hilariously sour pretty fast.

Because he wasn't expecting Chris to do a Russian accent, and he wasn't expecting the skit to be talking about boobs with his long-lost ex-Russian tsar of a father. Then they were talking about how Hitler was wrong regarding the Jews, but not world domination, and it was Patrick's destiny to take over the world and kill his Brazilian prostitute mother. 

Things escalated very quickly, but Mr Miranda was too busy laughing to stop them.

The other improv skit Patrick did, he was playing a priest who was a cashier on the side and his partner (Nick for that one) was trying to buy condoms. 

Mr Miranda cut that one short quite quickly, but he still couldn't stop laughing and that felt good for some reason. 

Lunch was directly after that, and Patrick ended up going to his locker to drop all of his books off so he wouldn't have to carry them out to the baseball field. Or, at least, that was the plan. As he wandered up to his locker's location, he cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Pete and Claire legitimately on his locker.

"Um...can you get off? Just for a minute so I can put my stuff away?"

"Just tell him to go, Pete, we're busy," Claire said bluntly, grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him closer. Yet, Pete leaned forward but his feet didn't move.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "That's my locker you're on," he said, "and I need to put my books in there."

"Claire, I'll catch up with you later. Why don't you go find the guys and I'll be over in a bit?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but let go of him and picked up her bag. "Whatever, just don't get fag on you," she told him before eyeing Patrick, "and don't you go anywhere near my boyfriend." She left, her heeled boots clicking as she walked away. Sad thing was, Patrick could probably walk in those better than she could.

"What do you want, Pete?" Patrick asked as he moved to get his locker open. "Cause I have nothing to say to you."

Pete was quiet as he leaned on the lockers next to Patrick. "She doesn't realize that I broke up with her a week ago," he said, glancing at him. "Kind of amusing, though. I told her that we shouldn't be together anymore, cause I didn't feel anything for her, and she just laughed and said I was adorable."

"Why should I care?" The smaller boy eyed Pete as he slid his textbooks into his locker, the only thing it was really used for other than his sports bag. He pulled the bag out and slung it carefully over his shoulder.

"Because I was a douche to you. Seriously."

"You sound like Brendon. I don't want to get back together with you."

"I'm not saying I want to get back with you. If I were you, I wouldn't want me either. I just need to apologize for being such a dick." Patrick started walking, but Pete stayed close before continuing. "Because I care about you, even just as my friend, and I hated not having you to talk to. Cause I could be really honest with you and you wouldn't judge me."

Patrick stopped at the double doors, looking back at Pete. "And? Is that it?"

"Wentz! What're you doing with-"

"Fuck off, Brent, I'm not in the mood." Pete watched the other soccer player until he left, and he turned back to Patrick. "No, it's not it, but I don't feel like I can apologize out here."

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