Chapter 8.
"Yes, but how does one obtain this 'swag' you're speaking of? I've never heard of such a thing- have you, Leddy boy?"
Dylan is happily conversating with some of our more popular peers this morning, and unfortunately he's dragging me along with him.
I shrug my shoulders and decide to tune him out. It's too early for socializing. Not to mention, but my day hasn't had much of a great start.
I woke up late this morning, first of all. And what better to wake up to than an angry mother who's on a rampage about how hard being a mother is.
Yes, I know that being a mom is a hard job, and every parent is somewhat entitled to be frustrated, but I feel like the tables are different for my mom. She's only been a parent for like, three weeks. Also, she kept yelling at me about how little I do for the house- which I countered with the fact that I'm only ever in my room and I always carry my own weight. I do my own dishes, my own laundry for the most part, and I make sure that I have food even when Mom doesn't feel like cooking.
Luckily, I was able to escape while she was taking a shower. Although, maybe I shouldn't use the word 'escape' considering that I just went to school.
"Are you okay, Ledwig? You look like an extra in The Walking Dead," Dylan says, tuning me back in. The kids he was talking to have left, and the morning bell has already rung.
We start walking into the main building.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just tired, I guess-"
"You think she'd date me?" Dylan says, looking over at a girl with dark, curly hair that's walking with some other people. Margo, I remember. She's in orchestra.
"Um, I dunno. Maybe, I guess." Because of my zoning out, we're behind the huge herd of students. I'm glad- the halls aren't as scary this way.
Dylan ruffles his curling quiff with his hand, making it look even more bed-heady. "Nah. I don't think so. Pretty sure she, you know, despises me."
"Why?" I ask.
He looks down at me, "Why not?"
I believe it's a rhetorical question, so I don't answer.
I say, "Do I really look bad?"
He blows a bubble with his gum and pops it before saying, "A little." He pats my shoulder and enters a room, "I'll see you in English. Don't pass out."
I make it to homeroom before the tardy bell rings. When I enter the room, a burst of pressure enters my skull and my eyes start to strain. Maybe I am getting sick. I take my seat next to Mariah and pretend to listen to her drone on about whatever she wishes to while I'm finishing algebra homework as well as I can.
*
Yeah, It's official. I'm sick. I became positive of it when a horrid headache crept into my body and the walls started spinning. I've been able to deal with it throughout the day and now Jaspar and I are walking home.
The day is absolutaly great. It's cloudy yet not humid or murky, and there's a recurring breeze that hasn't failed to give me chills. It's not hot nor cold, which means I get to keep my jacket on.
"Hey, guess what!" Jaspar says, stomping beside me. He isn't wearing a jacket (he almost never does) and his hair is having a blast in the wind.
"Hmm?"
He swings his back pack to his side and pulls out a few papers. Re-zipping the bag, he hands a couple to me. "Sheet music for the talent show."
Sure enough, the papers he handed me have my viola part to 'Uneasy Heart Weigh the Most'. I can't believe he's actually serious about doing this song.
