Life With A Bucket List

Make Some Friends (And Enemies) Of Your Own

"Van Gogh was as creative and careful with his art as he was unstable and careless with his mind," Mr. Robertson said, using wide, elaborate hand gestures as he explained his PowerPoint. "He put all of his most complex thoughts and dangerous feelings into his artwork. Although, believe it or not, while his paintings are beyond any value we can bestow on them today, back when he was alive, they probably weren't worth more than a nickel."

I laughed along with everyone else in my Art History class as I wrote down my notes. It had been about a month since school started and so far, I was loving every second of it.

The class ended a few minutes later, followed by the rustling of everyone gathering up their things and Mr. Robertson reminding us of the test the following Friday. I grabbed my messager bag and followed my classmates out the door, shoving my binder into my bag as I went. I checked my watch. 12:30. I better hurry if I want to meet Melody on time, I thought, pulling my leather lacket tightly around myself as I started walking in the direction of Good Ol' Cup where we planned to meet for lunch. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get used to the New York weather. Being from the South, I was used to at least slightly warmer weather.

It took me about 15 minutes to walk to the coffeehouse, making me a couple minutes late, considering we were supposed to meet at 12:40. Oh well, I thought. I'm sure she won't mind.

Once I walked in, I looked around to see where Melody had decided to have us sit. It took me a minute to realize that she wasn't there, Hmm, weird, I thought as I warmed up my hands. Must be a long walk from the music hall.

I chose a booth next to the window that looked out onto the street. The streets was crammed with little shops like Aunt Hatty's Beauty Parlor and a nice little Italian place called Palazzo di Pasta.

I decided to sketch the street while I was waiting. Streets with character always drove me to drawing, no matter where I was. In the middle of my sketching, I felt someone slide into the booth seat across from me. I looked up, expecting to see Melody. Instead, I saw a dark-haired boy with a black hoodie staring back at me, a crooked smile formed at his lips.

I waited for a second before speaking. "Can I help you?" I said slowly, making sure he followed what I was saying.

"I'm sure you can." he replied confidently. I heard the slight twang of a Southern accent. "Jay Daniels. And you are?"

"Extremely annoyed that an obnoxious boy is sitting in my friend's seat and bothering me while I'm clearly busy." I answered, staring nonchalantly back at him.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly. "You've got an attitude. I don't mind that. What do you say to going out to dinner with me tonight?"

I stared at him for a moment before realizing he was serious. "Are you kidding? Why on earth would I want to go on a date with a guy whose so desperate, he's had to resort to asking out girls he doesn't even know? My answer is no."

Before he could say anything else, I saw a group of girls who looked like they had all gone to the same plastic surgeon start walking into the coffeehouse with Melody a couple feet behind them. I smiled and waved at Melody. She smiled and waved back before she accidently bumped into who looked like the "leader" of the plastic girls, all of whom had stopped in the doorway. The lead girl turned around and started yelling at Melody, although from this side of the coffee shop, I couldn't hear what she was saying. It looked like Melody needed help, so I got out of the booth with my bag slung over my arm, leaving the desperate guy behind as I walked over to the group, who were now all glaring at Melody. As I got up to the group, I heard the last part of what the girl was saying to Melody.