You Know Your Rights!

Opening Doors and Pulling Some Strings

Last night they loved you, opening doors and pulling some strings, angel
Come get up my baby
In walked luck and you looked in time
Never look back, walk tall, act fine
Come get up my baby- David Bowie

When school came back around I was exhausted. We had a lot of homework to do, but besides that I was busy blasting that record you bought for me. My mother hated it, but I loved it. Like usual I was on autopilot for the majority of the day, but when lunchtime came around I sat next to you again and was nothing other than alive at that very moment.

I told you how much I loved the record and would love nothing more to listen to more of your music. It intrigued me just like you did and still do. You began rambling off all these other bands I should listen to and how that was just the beginning.

"I need to educate you Clar." you said smiling fully.

"Clar?" I looked over at you quite peculiarly.

"Yeah, your name is Clarisse ,so your new nickname is Clar. Do you like it?"

I still looked over at you oddly than began to blush. I never had someone call me Clar. My father did, but he is out of the picture. I never had a friend let alone one that would give me a nickname. I was and still am socially awkward, so you can only imagine that the thought of a nickname was virtually unheard of for me. But I shook off this feeling suddenly gaining an overwhelming amount of confidence.

"Okay then. Only if I can call you Kurdt." I smiled bashfully.

Now it was your turn to look towards me unsurely and timidly.

"Kurdt?"

"Yeah, since I'm your Clar you're my Kurdt."

You began to laugh and so did I. I finally had a friend, and it felt amazing. It feels all new and magical. We were too caught up in our own little world that we didn't notice that the bell rang and all the other students were beginning to scramble away to their class. So we said our farewells and began to part ways.

But it stayed like this. Everyday during lunch we would talk with each other about music and books. I finally had someone to talk to.

However, I began to realize that your grades weren't up to par with mine. I began to help you after school. You had problems with math and chemistry, and I couldn't blame you those classes suck. But I always loved how you phrased it.

"Thanks for helping me. I feel fucking dyslexic in those classes." you sighed with relief.

I began to choke with laughter. 

"What's so funny, Clar? I thought you were helping me not mocking my disability. Not everyone can be on the fucking honor roll every bloody semester." you said jokingly.

"I'm sorry, Kurdt. Don't get mad. It's just funny to see you like this what are you having trouble with anyway."

"The fucking formulas. They always screw me up."

After I was finished laughing up a riot we got down to work. While you never got A's in those classes I'm proud to say that I helped you maintain a C to B average in their classes. 

After all those tutoring sessions we would go home, but sometimes we had enough time to just talk freely. One time you asked me if I played any instruments. I told you I played cello, violin, and the piano.

"What about guitar?"

I shook my head softly, and responded. "they don't have guitars in an orchestra, Kurdty."

You chuckled softly. "You don't have to play in a stuffy orchestra while playing old people's music."

"Well what should I play in Kurdt?" I questioned you a bit too sassily.

"A band. Who knows you can be the next Janis Joplin."

"Only if you become the next Jim Morrison."

We both laughed, but were promptly kicked out of the library for being too loud. Still I loved it. And ever since that day you began to teach me how to play guitar. I got to say they were some of best days in my life. We just sat in your room for hours listening to music or strumming out on the guitar. I'm still incredibly grateful for that.

A/N This was filler af, but I hope you enjoyed it. I promise the next update will have some actual substance to it.