Fix Me

* { 9 } *

I can't believe it. I'm actually excited for English class today. When it was just Mrs. Goldstein teaching I could care less, but since Mr. Wentz came things have gotten much more interesting. It's not like he even does anything, either; he just sits at his desks taking notes (or whatever he does. He seems like the type to actually try in his work) and making stupid commentary that everyone forces themselves to laugh at. They don't even realize why they're laughing, I've noticed. They laugh because everyone else laughs or because someone says something that's supposed to be funny so they laugh no matter how meaningless the statement was. Teenagers are odd creatures and I've found myself analyzing them far too often. I hate it.

Anyway, back on topic; Mr. Wentz really doesn't add any new things to the class except for this clean and rejuvenating energy. He just fascinates me and I'm not quite even sure why. He's just so intelligent and cool that I almost wish he could notice me and be my best friend. It's a stupid thing, though, and I'm glad that it doesn't cross my mind.

"Alright, everyone, we'll be changing seats today. You've all been way too talkative and distracted so I'll put you in an order I think will help everyone," Mrs. Goldstein states.

Everyone gasps in horror. I can't just move. I belong in my back corner where no one can see me. I feel safe back here. I can't move. I won't.

I end up being assigned the seat at the end of the column nearest to the teacher's desk. I'm in the back row for that but it still feels wrong. I shouldn't be here. It's not right. It kind of hurts me. I wish I had a say in this or that at least one teacher could take my tension into consideration. This is unfair. I hate it. The tension shouldn't be a factor. Unless, of course, you consider those around me. I'm sure I'm seated next to the loudest people.

"Don't worry everyone, you'll be used to it. Now onto Jane Eyre. Did everyone read the first chapter for homework like you were supposed to?"

Mr. Wentz is tapping the eraser of his pencil on the wood of his desk. I bit my lip and just stare at the pencil, waiting for the tension to set in. No one else seems to notice it but they don't have a neurological system that's as aware as mine. They don't notice and focus on every single sound that occurs in their hearing range. They can't feel everyday noise. It doesn't hurt them.
Lucky bastards.

While I glare at the pencil I notice a wedding ring on Mr. Went'z finger.
I'm shocked, honestly. The ring, however, is a bluefish grey and is obviously made of cheap plastic. It's probably from a dollar store. That part doesn't surprise me, I guess. But still he looks too young to be married.
I'm not upset or jealous by this news. I'm just surprised and kind of happy for him. I hope his wife is pretty and is nice to him. Maybe he's got a kid? That could be why he's married. Or maybe I should just stay out of his private life because it's none of my business. That'd be best.

I realize that I'm staring at him. It's so weird. I have no idea why I'm so interested in him or why I seem so attracted to him. It's not an attraction in the normal sense or how we first think of it. I don't think he's cute or anything and I wouldn't want to date him. Ew. Not only is that illegal but...he's just not my type. He's a guy. I guess Gerard's a guy, too, sometimes but he's different.

Wait....

why did I bring Gerard up? I shouldn't be thinking about him like that. He's my friend. My best friend. My only friend. I'm not supposed to think of my friend when the word "dating" comes up. I won't allow myself to consider that idea. Once I tell myself that my mind automatically asks itself if I'd want to date Gerard or why he's so different. I don't want to know the answer.

Anyway, back to the actual topic. Mr. Wentz. There's just something about him that makes me want to draw closer to him. I decide that this is way too weird and that I should look away.

As I take notes for myself I feel someone's eyes burning into me. I can't figure out where it's coming from. It's probably not even real, I tell myself. I always feel that people are watching me and judging me under a cruel eye. I've grown accustomed to knowing it's there but not real.

However, as I look over at the teachers desk Mr. Wentz is glancing in my direction. He quickly looks away, and I'm not sure what to do. What...why?

Because he noticed you staring at him and wanted to see how weird you are? This is why everyone thinks you're so freaky. You need to get your staring problem under control. No one wants you to look at them. That's almost degrading. You're being so weird about this. Just leave Mr. Wentz alone. He already hates you.

I haven't heard from this in a while. I almost thought it may have gone away.

Shut up. You know you missed me. You're nothing without me. I give you something to do, at the very least.

True. I still hate you, though.

Whatever. Not like your opinion matters anyway. But seriously stop freaking out over Mr. Wentz. You're going to freak him out. He doesn't want the ugly weird girl staring at him everyday. Do it for his sake, you worthless freak.
____

"Patty!" Gerard exclaims as he appears at my locker after school. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Um, I don't think we're doing anything. Why?" I ask as I slip into my jacket.

"You should come over," he suggests.

"I just came over last week," I remind him.

"Yeah and it was amazing. Do you not wanna come over...?"

"No! I'm not saying that it's just...do you really want me to?"

"Of course I do," he tells me with much confidence. "You're really fun to hang out with."

I almost laugh.

"I'll have to ask my mom. She might say no, though."

"Beg her," Gerard tells me, seriously.

I giggle. "I'll see what I can do. Once she makes up her mind there's really no point in trying to changing it."

"Ugh. You have to come over sometime, okay? We should make it an every week thing."

"Like a weekly sleepover?"

"Yes! If you come over this week you can meet my mom, too! She's super cool."

That's a forgoing concept: a cool mom. I guess if she lets Gerard be himself and express his gender how he wishes then she must be super cool. Now I'm more excited to meet Mrs. Way.

"Okay. I'll ask," I restate.

"Good. And beg her! Oh, I can walk you outside if you want."

My face turns pink, I'm sure, and the words send shivers down my spine. He's such a gentleman. I didn't know those existed anymore. I love it, but I don't deserve it. He's too nice to me already. I can't accept him to go the extra mile.

"It's fine," I let him down politely.

"You're tired of hanging out with me? Alright," he replies, pretending to be sad.

I giggle lightly. "I guess if you want to walk to my Mom's car you can. I don't know why you would."

"I wanna spend every second I can with you, Patty," he tells me and I think I may just drop dead right there. "Plus, I gotta get to my car anyway so I may as well."

He holds his arms out, questioningly and I nod my head. It's a short hug but a sweet one, nonetheless.

"Bye, Patty," Gerard smiles as he pulls away. "Remember to beg her!"

"I will try," I wave as he walks off to his car. I watch him walk for a few seconds longer then I should before I run over to Mom's car, hoping with all my might she didn't see anything that just happened.