The new beat

Chapter 2

Sometimes I wonder if my life was meant to be a sad story.  I mean written to be a pitiful tale. You know like those stories writers do to emotionally blackmail the reader into taking a look. Then to your utter disgust appears to be totally full of shit.  Well that is how I think my life is. I am pretty sure that I am the only girl in my situation. I should probably just cruise with my friends and Join their gossip sprees after all I really got noting to lose. Or do I?

The fact that I don't want him to think bad about me is strong. Stronger than the urge to do right because of my mother or father. Strange? Stupid? I am even confused by this whirlwind of thoughts I go through everyday. Utter crap and bullshit I call it but it surprisingly comprises of my whole day. Except a few other significant stuff.

He will be in the car by now. I wonder if he has replied to my text.  Has he updated his status. Is he even thinking of missing his Friends?  Me? Our Conversations? 

Damn it! I am such a psycho.  I probably should just listen to anther one of my many classmates' talk.

"Why wait round for someone who just sees you as a friend?, Or someone he is acquainted with?, while you have the the attention of many others, edging you to just pay heed to them."

This of course was said by my classmate (s). Leader is yours truly May Anderson.  They all try to put me with guys I don't like. Those kind of street guys they think cool is all that matters. I don't like that.  My preferences are strange. I mean what I want in a boyfriend. I should not be thinking of these things but  do. Seeing as I am a christian and all.

Things i would want in a boyfriend

1. I would want him to love me for me

2. I would want jealous love

3. He should be with me through everything.

4. Honest

5. Kind.

6. Loving

7. Responsible.

I don't get it. The fact that I am a christian does not mean that I don't encounter feelings or anything of that sort. That is what my mother wants me to believe.  That such thoughts are not necessary or are a thing of the devil. I sometimes laugh at this. In my head.  I just pretend to listen and understand whiles in actual fact I don't. Sorry mother.

The wait after school is long and depressing.  I have to wait for my dad to come and pick me up. During these times  wish I had real friends. The kind that will want to si on the grass with me and talk about our feeling about school, home, anything. And not complain about everything because someone else is too.

They think because may is all grown she is cool and every time she says something it's right. Even if it has something to do with a teacher.  It is pathetic. She barely imposes her ideologies on them but when she does she expects them to listen and agree or else she doesn't even acknowledge you. This has happened to me lots of times already and it sucks but you get used to it.

I am so tired.

"Taylor we are going to the basketball court,  hurry up?", says Christie. That is the drill. No one a curly asks what you want. As long as someone in close authority with may it's something up and may agrees it's compulsory for everyone to do it. Annoying. Just as I turn my back to reply I hear a familiar sound.

'Horn'

That must be my dad's car. I turn around and it sure is. I quickly take my bag and walk towards the gate. Just as I have walked out I hear screams.

I turn and my 'friends' are waving. See and weep then.

I quickly wave back putting on the best smile  could muster and turn back.

I am greeted with a 'hello' from my father.

"How was school today?",  my father asks.

"It was a okay", I say. He boxes me out of my mind. My dad is actually on bad. I Like him more than my mother.  He is so free. He is also a pastor.

"We will be picking your m thr from the office okay?".

"What about her car?", I say.

"She came home for lunch so she left it there and i dropped her", he says.

"Okay".

I take out my book and start reading. Obviously indicating that i wish to no longer continue the conversation.  He puts the radio on ad hums to 'four days late'. I think that is the title. I am so not sure.

I drift of peacefully thinking of him.

His brown eyes. The muscles formed under his shirt. His shaped hair. His really nice smile carved on is face. His words. The way they work a healing and calming effect on my soul. He whispers my name. Taylor. Pulls me closer. Closer. Just a few more inches.  I will be able to hold him. Be locked in his......

"Taylor wake up, we are in the house", says my dad.  I groan.  Why did he  have to wake me up.

Dads have a way of treating evryone. Especially their daughters with precise and careful monitoring. Annoying. But quite assuring.