Him & I

11

At first I found it cute.

Then I found it terrifying - How the hell should he know my last name, you know?

But then again, I remembered it's my official name. It's the name I go by as part of the MJR team. Acronym being short for Media, Journalism And Reports team. It honestly is just the media team, but I think the head of Journalists and/or Reporters, felt the need to be different and 'independent', so went on to printing in gold platings, MJR on the main door leading to the computer-swarmed room we work in - because printing that makes it official.

It kinda has, in my opinion. Of recent times no one calls it the media team anymore. It's now, 'MJR'.

Funny.

I like it and I hate it. I mean, I like the team and I.. sometimes hate it as well. For the same reason.

I like how 'official' it is. It's always a hustle and bussle when we get together. All the assigning of different projects, suggesting new ideas, all of that. Sort of helps you forget you're in Junior year in high school. Or you're even in high school at all.

But then I also hate it, and yes because of how 'official' it is too. The heads of the team choose it as priority to make every subordinate feel, well, subordinate. Like last semester when I submitted a report and George couldn't help but point out every wrong thing I did. The dots on your I's aren't visible enough. You didn't explain the players' movement in good detail. You should have underlined the title or better yet, made it bold.

So, alright, that last one was valid, I could admit. Though he could've been nicer about it. He's always so uptight, irritated and... un-nice. He's not like Tyler.

Okay, i'm not certain it's right to certify Tyler as nice yet, but the way he said my last name last night, looked so cute. Nice.

Perhaps because I know he wouldn't know the name if he hadn't viewed any of the previous reports I've written on the football team, and assumed, well correctly, that the printed in all tiny block letters at the bottom of each page - Martinez - was my last name.

I mean, I am aware it's not that much of hard work. He didn't exactly have to go over all the way to mount Everest, North pole or even break into the principal's office to see one of the many reports. They're on basically every wall in the hallways, third floor to first.

Yet still I find it cute. All mushy on the inside, though I try to keep a straight face as I wriggle a little in my hot seat on the bleachers. Which isn't hard - keeping up the straight face - because with the sun burning down on me it's not that hard to fight a smile. Rather it's hard to hold one. From time to time, I attempt fixing my face a bit just incase I've got on the look of a frustrated nun.

Not that anyone would notice. Or care. The heatwave has everyone focused on themselves, straining their eyes under the light - like me, and without they're blazers. Again, like me. This, actually, is the first time I've gone ahead with dumping my blazer in the locker for the day. And that's to say a lot because I'm usually what Pamela would call, meticulous. Though I'd prefer going with 'normal'.

The only happy people I see are the boys on the field. They're all game. I guess that's how it ought to be? Come rain, come shine.

My free period leads straight into closing and if my best friend can wait - which I know she will... hopefully, she said something about staying late for Student Council Meeting earlier - I can stay even after. They always play till long after school. Sometimes past 4pm too.

Well, I'm just trying to get more info on my work so there's no George breathing down my neck at the end of the day. I don't mean that literally of course, he doesn't- he doesn't do that. He'll more like have his slender, outrageously long fingers point out a million of the things I did wrong, and ask me to fix them.