and I swear, he doesn't even smile. But I know I want him too. And I know a tiny bit of his gut wants it, too. But then his being forbade it. Because he can't. Because the creator of this world purposely wanted someone to make him do it. And how could he do it if he already knew it himself?
Chapter 3
It all got to a point where Joan was thinking of ways on how to get home earlier so that she wouldn't have to walk pass he's always at the corner guy's basement. But he always got their first. And Joan couldn't even think of a way on how he does it not many people live in that street, and she doesn't see him walking to his house. Whenever she'd be walking to her house he already was stationed in his basement playing drums or whatsoever. It was all crazy.
Joan attempted to walk faster because she was afraid he might stare at her again. Which would lead to a marathon of thinking. But she couldn't handle it. She ended up doing the exact opposite. She stared at him. A long, intense stare. And for a second, she could have swore that her mind stopped working, that she had stopped thinking. That the weight of the world fell off her shoulders. Because he was staring back. She walked slowly because she wanted to enjoy having not think about everything once. It probably looked really creepy, but then again, she wasn't thinking.
For a minute, Joan wasn't thinking.
She walked by him like a wave hit her right down from her face to the pit of her stomach. She didn't know how he did it. She swears. She doesn't know how he does it, but she calls it magic.
Only special people can do magic. And he did it, maybe he's not different, maybe he's special.
She doesn't know if he just 'bi-dazzled' her, as she calls it, or he just blasted her with a sack of crack. Because she was pretty sure that's what being high feels like. And it wasn't in the bad way, not at all. In fact, she wants to feel it again. She doesn't know how or what he did, but she sure as hell knows she wants to do it again.
The rest of the walk to her house was pretty good. She was still very 'bi-dazzled' though. She reached in to her doorknob until Mark opened the door.
''Hey''
''Hey...''
''So I was just gonna play basketball with uh... Fred and stuff and I was-- hey are you stoned?''
''I don't even know, little brother.''
''Because your eyes are red and you look like you hit cloud nine like a baseball dude aiming for home.''
''That's not even funny, Mark.''
''It was never meant to be. Just.. uh... tell mom I went to do some homework with Mick ok?''
''Sure.''
''Thanks.'' Mark reached down to Joan give her a small peck on her forehead. Joan and Mark were the best of friends. They had the best sibling-relationship on this country, like, some people even recognized them as a couple. It was extremely cute. Even though Joan could've wished she could own her title as the older child. She also wished she could at least be an inch taller than Mark. Mark was a basketball player. And that was it.
Joan ran upstairs to her room and grabbed a Smiths tape without argument. She played it and leaned to the window. She wanted to see if she could hear his drums from her house, which was completely stupid but she somehow wanted to give it a try. She couldn't hear it, though she still replays it on her head hoping to clear everything out. She doesn't like him, she likes what he does to her. Makes her, her own special drug. She opened her mouth and mimicked the voices playing in her head. Silently. And she closed her eyes.
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes in to us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine
Joan did everything exactly the same as she did yesterday. She did it carefully, like a child playing hopscotch, careful not to make a mistake. Never in her whole life did she think something petty like staring could drown her good. She did this for about a week. And she wasn't planning on stopping. If she couldn't get this he's always at the corner guy to stop, then she was going to make the best out of what she could do.
He was in the corner of the cafeteria again. He was wearing a white V-neck and white pants. With some gray shoes. Weird. He stares at her and she stares back. Occasionally, he would look down, trying to lose her. Or he would adjust his headphones or change his tape. And Joan wouldn't stop staring.
He got up, and started walking, Joan did not lose eye contact and he walked towards her table. She didn't know what to do. She doesn't even know him, she doesn't even know his name. She sure didn't want to, because that would mean knowing more about him, and she's not supposed to be interested on knowing more about a petty stranger. She knew they were batch mates, she'd seen him at the corner of general assemblies, but she doesn't know his name.
He stood in front of her for what she thought was a million years. He stood just below the light. Which helped her notice that his hair was in fact not Onyx, it was brown. Great, he's a brunette She also noticed he was an inch shorter than Mark. (which was rad because she was sitting down) And Mark was four or six inches taller than her. He looked down right at her with his face showing no emotion. Joan was just about to go out when;
don't, Joan, he's different, you shouldn't even be near him, what if everything from the past did it again?
he's different
''Hey''
And in her mind, everything exploded.
YOU ARE READING
He's always at the corner
Teen Fiction"You can't just be careful all the time, you have to at least make do with the crap-load of shit this world gives you. Accept the cigarettes, don't turn away from them. See it, see yourself, Joan Hill, because it's too late, I see you.''
