so... what do we do now?

008

"Who was that guy yesterday?" Mr. Way shifts his attention from his comic to me. "The one who came in here late."

"Patrick... Patrick Stump, I believe? Why?"

"Nothing. Why was he here?"

"How am I suppose to know? Ask him yourself."

"Like if that's easy," I say underneath my breath.

"Talking to someone is, surprisingly, easy," he says with fake shock. "You take words that you already know and use them to create a sentence. It's that easy. And you know what the cool part is? You can make your sentence as short or as long as you want it to be. Now isn't that amazing?" I stare at him. "Oh come on. Say something, anything."

"I really want to punch you, right now."

"See? You just talked to me by using a sentence full of words that you already know. You were even honest with what you said. I'm so proud of you." I roll my eyes and rest my chin on my arms. "What's so interesting about him?"

"I don't know. I just want to know about him."

"He's a nice kid. Definitely worth talking to." The bell rings and everyone dismisses. I'm about to leave when Mr. Way stops me. "Give me your book bag." Oh for fuck's sake. (Yes, autocorrect. It's suppose to be 'ducks' sake)

"I thought you said that you trust me."

"I do, but there's nothing wrong with checking every once in a while." I look at him while he just looks back, a bit sympathetic. "Please?" I sigh as I give him my book bag and glare at him.

"It was just that one time," I mutter as he rummages through my stuff.

"Hopefully it stays like that." When he zips up my bag, I snatch it angrily and storm out of the class. It was just that one time, he doesn't understand.