Resentment - (18+)

C33

JUSTIN
Ten years ago...

I spend all night listening to all of the terrible indie bands Mia likes, rolling my eyes at every song, but around midnight, I have to admit that I start to enjoy them. So much so that I burn a CD and put it in my car to listen to later.

I've already decided how I will approach her again. It'll have to be whenever she's alone and can't slip away into a crowd, but I need to figure out a way to get her to keep talking to me since I don't think a one-time conversation with her will get me anywhere; she seems completely resistant to me for some reason.

The perfect solution doesn't hit me until the next day in English class, my best subject.

Instead of writing the hell out of the essay assignment that's due that week, I purposely half-ass each one. That's all the time is takes for the teacher to notice because on Friday, she pulls me to the side at the end of class.

"Mr. Bieber," she says, "As entertaining as your recent ramblings on 'Why Is This Girl So Difficult With Me' are, they have nothing to do with Beowulf."

"They don't?" I smile.

"No, they don't." She shakes her head at me. "Do you not care about getting your first slew of C's in your high school career?"

"Cs?" I cross my arms. "I need at least a D to make this thing convincing. How do I get one of those?"

"Keep turning in the crap you've been writing lately." She pats my shoulder. "I'm not sure what the hell you're doing, but you do plan on bringing it back up to an A and keeping my hope in your generation alive, correct?"

"Definitely." I walk past her and head straight to "art club" so I can finally give Mia her notebook back.

I head down the hallway on the east side of the school and peer into all of the empty classrooms. She never seems to pick the same room twice for some reason.

When I get to the end of the hall, I finally see her.

Dressed simply today in jeans and a black T-shirt, she's deep into whatever she's painting, and when I walk inside the room she doesn't even look up.

As a matter of fact, it takes her fifteen minutes to notice me.

"Yes?" She looks up from her canvas and stares at me from across the classroom. "May I help you with something, Justin? You're not in the art club."

"I'm aware." I smirk, looking around the empty classroom. "But it doesn't look like anyone is in art club..."

She rolls her eyes and sets down her paintbrush. "We're currently accepting applications for membership," she says. "What can I help you with?"

"You know, I did come here for something." I shut door. "But, now that you claim that you're accepting applications for your club, can I fill one out?"

"We don't accept douchebags. Your application wouldn't make it past round one."

"Douchebag?" And is she blushing right now?

"Yes, douchebag. Would you like me to give you the definition?"

"I'm well versed on the definition, Mia Gray." I stare at her for a while, still trying to figure out if the red in her cheeks is blushing or anger.

She's definitely blushing...

She clears her throats and looks away from me. "You said you came here for something? Can you hurry up and tell me what that 'something' is so I can get back to addressing my art club? Today is a very important day for us."