A week later and Forest's department comes sooner and sooner. I know that there's probably no chance that we are going to meet up again later in life. I always try to push that thought away from my head because it's like when I think of unconsciousness after death. They both literally sucks the life out of me. Making me always want to either hug someone/something to make me appreciate what I have now. Life.
I wake up early, not bothering to use my sling because of my perfectly healed collarbone. I grab my gym clothes, do my normal morning routine and drive to school.
"Healed?" Forest asks. Because we suck, Dr. Pelat said that the boy's basketball team will help us in every practice until the end of season.
I nod and point at my scar. I dribble and attempt to shoot. I make it. Luckily my recessive side of my body was where I was shot.
"Why are you so quiet?" Tom asks. I shake my head, meaning that it's nothing. And by nothing, I mean it doesn't concern him.
This week, I'm trying to get my game up. With one of the best basketball player on my side, I can slam dunk the hell out of the whole country. Not really, but yeah.
Forest gives out pointers as Tom demonstrates them. All I do is nod and follow, shaking my head when I make a mistake.
Fourth period is boring. Since the shooting, teachers prohibited going outside without noting the office and your next period teacher. I don't bother to go because of all the "talking to the teacher and office peeps to get the fuck out" and the fact that it's warmer than Spring so people might go out more, even with the permission.
Instead, I go to the library, reading and filling my head with things that will soon go down the filter of I-don't-careness and I-do-not-fuckin'-know-what-the-fuck-this-book-is-talking-aboutsicles. I play with my cuff ring as I read.
It's pure silence with some of the smart kids. Most, flipping through papers. There're few that surf the web, usually for research.
As I read, in my peripheral vision, I see leather. Only 3 types of men, in this very high school, wears leather jackets. 1) The cosplay men/women of novels, 2) bikers, jocks, and/or hipsters, and 3) those who're fashionable, in which they wear them every so often. This was number 1 and 2, combined.
"Hey." I look up, partially knowing who it is.
"Cam... uh, hi." I studder. He is the hottest guy on school. He's in many of my AP classes, nice, extremely good-looking, and not a player. I had a crush on him at one, short point. Way before Forest came into my life.
He points at the empty seat beside me with an eyebrow raised. "May I sit?"
"Uh, yeah." He holds The Great Gatsby. The most amazing books ever. I read it over and over again.
"So," he whispers, opening the book, "what's up?"
"The ceiling." He gives a little smile that stays there. My facial expression is poker.
I continue to read, not caring that he's here. Is he even in my lunch period?
"I like you." Things just got awkward. Ten minutes of nothingness is awkward enough.
"Okay," I say, trying to make it seem normal.
"No," he turns my head. My eyes are wide open. "I really like you." Then he kisses me. My body turns stiff. I can't pull back. What's happening? His hand holds my neck, pushing me closer, softly.
He stops and has a grin on his face. When he scans my face, he immediately pulls back his smile.
"Oh, uh... I... I didn't mean to surprise you... I'm... uh... sorry." He rubs the back of his neck, standing up.
YOU ARE READING
Do I Wanna Know
Teen FictionA girl who liked a boy for years. Had no guts to say so. Now he's to leave. Can her life be normal again? Elleina Pond and Forest Michaels. Barely have talked without the force of teachers since 7th grade. Four years later, they talked again. What h...
