New month, new life John.
Today I had English Literature class. Sounds normal, doesn't it?
Well, it wasn't. For starters Scar was cutting class. Her brother from another mother but from the same father is visiting her today. His name is actually William but every since he left for France and found his love in black clothes (Just like his little half-sister Scar) he's been calling himself Noir.
Together they're Scar Noir. Black Scar. They're like this little gang all by themselves with Noir being the leader and Scar the second in command or whatever. They don't exactly deal with drugs (Mitchell: yet) but they do vandalize things. I mean, look at Mr. Hoppenklopfers car. Marge Simpson looks splendid on the hood of it.
As for Mitchell, he was away with his father visiting UCLA. Because that's his dream college.
So, now John. You must be wondering why Literature class was not normal.
That's because I was alone with Kalani. Entirely alone.
Yes of course, there were other kids but still.
Anyway, we were supposed to do group work and analyze something that is so boring that I'm not going to bother writing it down. As maybe you know, group work in the minds of teenagers means talk-with-your-friends-work.
So no one did the exercise but everyone did talk. So did Kalani. And me...somewhat. I mean I was just replying to her questions while doodling away on my notebook.
Kalani: What's your favorite color?
Me: Don't really have.
It's Green. Explains why half the content of my pencil case is green. Or if my bag. Or my room.
Kalani: Which is your favorite book.
Me: All books are good.
It's actually Lord of the Rings. And Eragon. (Come on, how cool would it be if I had my own Saphira)
Kalani: How about favorite food?
Me: Anything.
Mac and Cheese, Mac and Cheese, Cheese and Mac.
Kalani: I think you're just lying.
That kind of got to me. She was right. Why was I lying? The answer is I don't know.
I'm a person who isn't particularly social. I don't like mingling with larger groups of people or new people in general. There are lots of people like me out there. Insecure, anti-social, closed-off and completely boring. We build walls around ourselves when threatened to be -like in my situation- asked about likes and dislikes.
But that's just who I am. I can't change it. Not for anyone.
Kalani however didn't seem to get it. She let out a small sigh.
Kalani: Ruben, we're friends, right?
Me (in a bit of shock): We are?
Kalani (with the ghost of a smile on her lips): Of course we are, stupid.
And right then and there, Kalani Desmukh-Smith made a move on me.
I can't tell you. I'm embarrassed.
Okay, I'll tell you.
She...reached up and...ruffled my hair. She actually made a move on me.
Ohmygodthisissoembarassing
fyfy, Ruben
YOU ARE READING
About Ruben
Short StorySomething terrifying happens to Ruben Butler. He loses his diary! And then he finds it again. Only for something terrifying to happen again. Ruben Butler finds a handwriting that is unmistakably not his scratched on the pages of his diary. What...
