Not a Fan Fiction . . . Sort of

5

What was I getting myself into? How could I be becoming friends with Brendon fucking Urie? Was it crazy to think that it might go anywhere? Of course it was! At first it didn't seem like an issue, I went to his classroom for first period on the next Friday—that was his prep time. I wasn't keen on skipping Ms. Sanchez's class, but I knew that: 1. I was already signed out by Brendon and 2. We were only working on our writing pieces. That was the day we were supposed to have a few chapters ready for review, and I was hesitant to hand them in. I told Brendon I wouldn't tell anyone about Sarah, after all, and I had been writing everything down like a diary. I couldn't very well hand that in with integrity.

The next period, while I was in the library, Ms. Sanchez tracked me down. I heard her calling my name while I was organizing the nonfiction section. "Ellesia! Are you here?" I thought about not answering and hiding behind the bookcase, but I begrudgingly stepped out and waved.

"Hi, I'm here." I said through a forced smile. She smiled back and beckoned for me to take a seat at a nearby table. "I'm sorry I wasn't in class, I had a detention."

"So I saw on the attendance. That's very uncharacteristic of you, Ellesia." Ms. Sanchez's smile turned to a frown of concern and she leaned forward slightly. "What happened?" I thought about telling her the whole truth, but that would involve much more than I was willing to share.

"I kind of mouthed off at a teacher. You know how opinionated I can be sometimes . . ." I bit my lip to make it seem like I was ashamed for what I'd done. She bought it with ease and let out a sigh.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense, except for the fact that this wasn't even your own teacher. I thought you were only in the music theory class to take notes." She eyed me skeptically as I thought up a quick lie that wouldn't result in the truth coming out.

"Well, um, he said something that I didn't agree with, so I called it bullshit . . ."

"Can you see how that might have been misconstrued as disrespectful?" Ms. Sanchez asked, trying to keep a straight face. She knew that I had no filter when I didn't agree with something, and that I tended to swear in front of whoever would listen at those times. It was a known fact among all of the faculty, really. I hadn't gotten detention for it since my freshman year.

"Isn't that the beauty of hindsight?" I gave a small laugh and stood back up. "I'm supposed to be organizing books . . ."

"Wait, I came to ask about your novel. How is it coming?" Dammit! I thought she'd forgotten about that. I didn't have anything to tell her, I couldn't give her my journals.

"You know, I really like the element of surprise. I would really prefer to just hand in all the drafts a long with the final copy. Is that okay?" I refused to look at her, for fear that I might give myself away. I wasn't really the greatest liar.

"You do realize that this will lower your midterm grade significantly, and I'll have to dock you a level for each draft? Your guarunteed A+ grade will drop to a B at most. Even if you bust your butt for the rest of the year, the highest grade I could possibly give you would be a B+, maybe an A- because I'm nice. Are you willing to sacrifice your straight As for confidentiality?" That's when I decided to look at her, she looked so concerned. I'll admit, I was not acting like myself, but I didn't know what else to do.

"If it's what I have to do, I won't compromise my integrity. I'm sorry, Ms. Sanchez, but this is really important." At that, I turned back to my cart of books and left her to sit in shock. I knew this would come back to bite me in the ass, but I needed time to come up with something.

The bell rang for my next class and I rushed to Mr. Anderson's journalism. He was standing at the front of the class as I walked in and he smiled. I waved at him and took my seat. "Alright, everyone!" He started as the other students settled down. "You're going to love this next assignment. I want you to write a celebrity gossip article. I want you to support everything with facts; quotes from other articles or, if you can, straight from the horse's mouth. This will be due on Monday, so get crackin'."

The first thing that came to mind was Brendon and Sarah's divorce, but I knew he'd never, in a million years, let me write about that. I told him it was off the record . . . But it's going to come out sooner or later, and maybe if I was the one to write it he'd feel better. I didn't even think he had signed the papers yet, and I didn't really blame him. I knew he was in love with her, even if she had changed. The only way to know was to ask him. My next period was lunch, so I planned to pay him a visit. I wasn't sure how that would work when he had a class, but I knew I had to try something.

When the bell rang, I sprinted to Brendon's classroom—not a small feat for someone who doesn't exercise on any occasion. Luckily I was on the same side of the school, so I only had to go straight down one hallway. When I reached his classroom there were only a few students there, so I quickly grabbed Brendon's arm and pulled him to the side.

"Whoa!" He chuckled, losing his balance for half a second. "You know, there are more civilized ways to get my attention like, say, maybe giving a little bit of warning." He leaned back on the wall behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, well, that's not really how I roll." I said, absently running a hand through my hair. "I have a question."

He stood in wait as I tried to figure out how to word what I was about to ask. It was a delicate subject . . . I must have taken too long because I noticed him glance over my shoulder towards his classroom, which was quickly filling up with students. "Well?" He smirked at me, raising his eyebrows.

"I have an assignment to write a celebrity gossip article . . ." I didn't have a chance to say anything more before Brendon's smile faded.

"Absolutely not! You said it was off the record. As a writer you have nothing if not your word, isn't that what they teach you?" I knew it was a bad idea to ask him about this, but it was such a good story.

"I just thought—"

"You just thought what? That you could exploit my life? It's really none of your goddamn business! I told you that because I thought you were different, Ellesia. I guess I was wrong," he shook his head and adjusted his jaw. "I have to go, I have a class to teach." And with that, I was left in an empty hallway.