After that movie night, things got a little strange with Parker. Apparently he channeled his inner teddy bear, because all he seemed to be able to do was either somehow touch me (Not in that way you dirty people!) or hug me. For example, on the day following the movie night this happened:
We were in English class when Mrs. Green decided to give us a break. I was sitting on the heating vents with Parker in the corner, trying my hardest to stop him from throwing stuff out the window.
Of course, the result of that was just me joining in and also throwing stuff out the window.
As we were just talking, I felt his hand on my wrist. I jolted and looked at him, but it was like he didn't even know he was doing it.
"Hey, idiot," I said, interrupting whatever he was saying. "I understand I have flawless and soft skin, but could you refrain from touching me?"
He looked down at my wrist, a look of surprise on his face. But that expression morphed to a smirk. He grabbed my hand and started stroking my arm.
"Why?" he asked. "Do you not enjoy me gently caressing your arm?"
I snatched my arm away. "You, my friend, are a creep."
So there was one instant. But he had been doing that a lot, where he would just start stroking my arm or shoulder or hand.
It was weird. Don't you go "awe that's cute!" Or "he likes you!" Because literally all it was, was creepy. Not cute. Not sweet. Creepy.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the storyline, shall we?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We were in Mrs. Green's class when she said to us, "Hey class, some of you seem to not get this, but when I give you your own time, it's to work on that poem assignment I gave you. Do the math, it's due by the end of your next class period."
Me and Parker exchanged worried glances.
"So here's your free time to work on it for today. Go!"
Parker jumped over to my desk. "Here's how this is going to work," I said to him. "I'm going write the poem, and you're going to pretend you contributed."
Parker pouted. "Why pretend when I could actually contribute?"
"Because," I responded easily, "I have an average grade of over a hundred percent in here. You have, oh, let me think, a C?"
"Hey!" He argued. "C stands for champion! A stands for awful!"
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. I'm writing the poem."
I was almost annoyed at how few instructions there were for the poem. It was basically a "I just want to see your writing skills" poem, which was the worst type of poem.
I took out a piece of paper and a pen and started to write whatever came to mind. Parker read over my shoulder.
"I thought the birds were supposed to sing," he read, "but I don't seem to hear anything. This forest feels so dead inside. I thought that was where life should hide. Are you honestly coming up with this on the spot? Are you secretly Robert Frost? Talk to me here, you can trust me."
"Sure, I can trust you," I responded, annoyed. "A teenage boy who can no longer keep his hands to himself after knowing a girl for how long? A week or so, maybe?"
He gasped. "I thought we had something real! Can't you feel the spark?"
"The spark of annoyance? Yeah."
"That's not annoyance, that's sexual frustration."
"It's frustration, alright, just not the type you're thinking of."
A hand suddenly slapped down on my desk. "You two," Mrs. Green said, completely annoyed, "can't seem to go more than five minutes without flirting or arguing. Could you please do the assignment? I have faith in you, Thalia."
"Hey!" Parker whined.
Mrs. Green shot him a bemused look.
"Point taken," he mumbled back.
I laughed loudly before continuing the poem. I finished our within the next five minutes and slapped my pencil down on the desk. "Done!" I said happily.
Parker read it out loud:
"I thought the birds were supposed to sing,
But I don't seem to hear anything.
This forest feels so dead inside,
I thought that was where life should hide.
"The setting of fairytales has grown so dim
The chances of life have grown so slim
The flowers are wilted, the color gone
The morning lacks a morning song."
Parker stopped reading and just looked at me. "It's girly," he whined, "all forest-y and crap."
I shot him a glare. "English teachers eat that kind of stuff up. She'll say it's thoughtful and symbolic or something like that."
Parker rolled his eyes and didn't even finish reading the poem. "Whatever, Thalia. Whatever."
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Omg hey it's me again!
Whaaaassssuppppp?
Enjoying? Not enjoying? Tell me what you think please!
Thanks for reading!
-abigailoftherivers
