Letters For Indie

~Chapter 7~

"Okay class, I want one hand-written page telling me about youselves and what you look forward to achieving this year in my class. Due tomorrow." 

Mr. McQueen, the Advanced Literature teacher, was this really monotonous old man, who looked like he would collapse if someone layed a single finger on him.

I scrawled down the homework assignment in my spiralbound notebook, next to the surprisingly realistic doodle of the brainless and evil blond behind me. I even gave her horns for effect.

If she was sitting here in Advanced English language, clearly this class isn't as advanced as I thought it was.

"I am excited to see how much knowledge we will attain this year," he said. 

The bell rang, stopping him from going any further into the syllabus of Macbeth and The Great Gatsby.

I collected my stuff slowly and waited for the rest of the class to file out, before exiting. It's not like anyone was waiting for me or I had friends to catch up with and share my experiences over summer.

I walked over to my locker in 500 wing and with the magic numbers of 04 28 13, it popped open. 

I yanked my Calculus and World History textbooks out from underneath a pile of papers and notebooks, and got up to go find some deserted table to eat at while enjoying a good book. 

Crash.

The books and papers were pushed out of my grip, and they scattered on the floor. I was on the ground again. A few heads snapped to my direction and watched me with amused eyes.

What are you idiots looking at? Maybe I didn't fall.

Maybe I'm checking to see if the floor's okay.

I snapped back into reality. "Sorry, I didn't see you there," said a divine voice. 

"What's. your. problem!?" I couldn't help but yell. As you can see, I was having a really shitty day.

The boy kneeled down and offered me his hand, along with an attractive and blinding smile. I slapped his hand away and pushed myself upward to come face to shoulder with him. 

"Sorry. It's my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going," he muttered apollogetically, but kept that adorable grin lingering on his face. He bent down again to pick up my books.

"You are unbelieveable, you know that?" I yelled, "Do you ever look where you're going?"

He looked at me blankly for a second, and his smile grew wider.

"Wait a minute, you're that girl from the burger joint." 

"Well spotted." If only looks could kill.

"Listen, I'm really sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you. How about you join me for some unsquished, undead burgers this evening?"

You have got to be kidding me. He just hastily shoves me over for the second time, and then expects me to fall into his little flirtacious trap? Who does he think I am?

"Are you crazy or something?"

He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"You basically embarassed me in front of every senior at this school, made me the laughing stock of the senior class, and you expect me to swoon over your pretty boy smile?"

"Wait, I didn't--"

"I can't believe you!" I'm pretty sure my face is heating up right now.

"Sorry, I--"

"No, don't even. Do you know how embarrased I was yesterday? People have been sneaking glances and laughing at me the whole day," I snarled in his face.

I had no idea why I was wasting my breath on this guy, but something about him bothered me, despite his enticing eyes and good looks.

"You are a wreckless, self-centered, stupid, bastard!" I nudged my pointer finger in his direction and jabbed it as hard as I could into his chest with each word.

I think I pushed his buttons a little bit too far, because his smile faded and he grabbed my hand with force. 

"Let go!" I struggled against his hold, but his grip was firm. "Let me go, ugh!"

He released my hand and glared right back.

God, he looks like a Ken Doll that walked right out of the box, except better.

"You left before I could say sorry yesterday. How many times do I have to apologize?"

"Sorry doesn't cut it." I scrunched up my nose and clutched my books closer.

"What the hell is your deal?" he sounded really pissed off at me.

Yeah, what is your deal Indie? To be honest, I was overreacting just a bit, and maybe I shouldn't have yelled that much. But what's done is done, and there was absolutely no way I was saying sorry to him.

Without answering, I shoved past him and walked away without looking back. I walked away, with my nose stuck high in the air, until I was sure that I had come halfway across the school. 

When I was positive that he wasn't anywhere in sight, I turned back slightly and glanced around. Just a few trees and some streamers scattered around the grass, probably from the parade this morning.

A small metal table with a leftover coke can and some day old nachos stood isolated. It practically called out to me.

I sat down, pulled out my Ipod, and drove the earplugs up my ears to shut out the world. But in reality, I wasn't listening to the music.

Tears welled up in my eyes and when I blinked, they came trickling down my face. 

Cry, Indie. Cry it out.

You have ten minutes before your next class.