Chapter 3

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by takemetothe_lakes

by takemetothe_lakes

Peter Purdue

I walked through the doorway of our classroom with Steve. We were both laughing about something, but at this point, I forgot what it was we were laughing about.

Steve has that way about him. I'm always so forgetful when we're together. He's such a good friend. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

To further prove my point, I even forgot which class we were walking to. Eventually, I had found out it was Spanish with Ms. Arias, but I honestly wish I completely forgot so I could spend more time with him, wandering the hallways, "looking for our class," although we both know that isn't true.

Turns out we have a quiz today in Spanish, which I also forgot about, but some kid from Mr. Batchelor's class so graciously pointed it out by moaning, "Awwh, we have a test today," and Steve promptly replying with "Erm, actually, it's a quiz."

He's such a nerd sometimes. It's almost humorous to listen to it, at least for me. I couldn't say the same about my classmates, though. I know they don't think as highly of him as I do. But that's okay. He doesn't need anyone else. He only needs me. We'll be best-friends-forever together.

Steve Pie

For once in my life, it's difficult to concentrate on my schoolwork.

We have a quiz in our foreign language class with Ms. Arias. I thought it was rather easy, even though my peers were bitching and moaning about "we didn't learn this," and "this wasn't even in the packet!" Me personally, I think they're just not as skibidi sigma rizzler as me, they don't have the brain capacity to comprehend the words she gave us to study.

Back to my point. It was so hard to concentrate after The Picture incident over the weekend. I kept looking at Peter the whole time, how the arch of the upper hem of his shirt was slightly lower than normal. Perhaps I'm thinking too deep on this. I don't think of him like that. To further add to my dilemma, he begins scratching at his collarbone, which of course lowers his shirt even more.

I'm going insane.

Peter seems to sense my staring at him. He looks up and smirks cockily before staring back at his own test. My cheeks flush and my eyes return to the quiz in front of me.

I finish the quiz a few moments later. As I said, it wasn't that difficult to begin with, I was just distracted. Yeah, distracted.

The next classes are easy to get through. Soon enough, lunch arrives and I can spend all the time I want with Peter. Hopefully, nobody steals him away again.

We play soccer with the other boys as usual. It's beginning to get more fun as I'm able to play close to Peter the whole time. Once our recess is and we come inside, I search the lunchroom for our spot.

The spaghetti-knitting girl and some volleyball girl begin to stare at Peter and I. "What?" I question, getting defensive all over again. "Nothing," they respond. I hear them whisper. "We've gotta add that to the book!" I whip around, "What book? Can I read it?" I ask, genuinely wanting to read whatever they were writing about. They begin to snicker. "Oh, um, no, it's nothing. It's not your kind of book," they assure me with fox-like smirks present in their expression. "What genre is it?" "It's um, romance! Between two boys who really like each other!" "What lexile level is it?" I quiz. They look at each other before Spaghetti Girl responds: "Its lexicon is 2."

"That's not how it works!" I whine. "Lexile level 2 is for kindergarteners, why would you be writing a romance book for kindergarteners? Especially one with heavy topics like homosexuality." They start laughing together again, so I decide to drop it and turn to Ben, who's sitting next to me. It seems Peter has left me. I spot him at another table and he meets my eyes, so I wave as a way to call him over.

"I got bored, so I went to that table," he explains. "It's okay. I was just confused. I thought you thought I was ignoring you." I laugh it off, though my own words strike myself deep in the heart. Would I really ignore him like that? In favor of some nobody girls gossiping amongst themselves? Peter seems to share my sentiments, as he laughs as well with a pained look in his dark chocolate eyes.

I turn to my once-corndog. "I ate all the bread off my corndog." Ben looks at me. "WHAT," he exclaims in disgust. I hear the three girls snickering once more, muttering amongst themselves, "Oh-!" "We're definitely adding that," "Yesssss!!"

"It's better this way!" I urge in a half-hearted attempt to convince them of my argument. "Sure," Spaghetti Girl mumbles. Peter gives me a side-eye, a humorous smirk plastered on his face.

My slow brain doesn't pick up on my unintentional double entendre until Peter hinted at it with that. "Wait, guys, I didn't mean it like that, I swear!" I backtrack, trying to un-prove my case. The table begins laughing at my misery while I sink back into the picnic bench.

Peter continues to stare at me with the same expression, but now with something else. Fondness? I don't know. I was never good at deciphering emotions correctly.

Today was not in fact fine.

Word count: 896