The Anger Album

Track Three

"Dear diary, I dreamt of the hunkiest man last night and his name is J—... ouch!" Jules cradled himself after I managed to slap him upside the head. "You know you hit a lot for a girl that's supposed to be..."

I slapped him again.

"Naughty little bitch."

I slapped him again.

"I'm gonna march down to that office and tell Jay..."

I slapped him again, shutting him up this time. "If you're done?"

"I'm done," he sulked, snatching the puny journal I'd bought to write my therapy entries in. Jules fingered the empty pages and said, "I don't know. Just address it to Jay and be your usually charming self."

I was faintly aware of him holding devil horns behind my head with his fingers, his sarcasm clearly giving him away. "That's the problem," I started, but broke off to grab one of his fingers and bite it. I spat in the dirt beside him to get the taste out of my mouth. "Gah, where have your fingers been lately?"

"Up your..."

I slapped him again before he could finish. I'd walked in to that one. "I'm glad you're able to amuse yourself, but I don't know how I'm supposed to do this."

"Should I do it?" Jules asked me, no longer paying attention to a word I said. Without hearing my 'charming' response I had to offer, he answered himself. "I'm going to do it."

Just like that, he was up and chasing after Mystery Girl. Instead of calling after him, I used that opportunity to start on my anger journal.

Jay, I'm quite angry at the moment and I'll tell you why...

I'd have to admit that starting the anger journal wasn't terribly hard, but I didn't know how I was supposed to keep it up. Besides that, I needed to be working on the album for Anarchy Avenue. It was one thing for me to write all the songs we needed for an album in just one month, but it was another for the band to learn them all and have them recording ready.

I heard the warning bell sound for third block from inside the building and figured I'd have to finish writing my entry later. Darn, the bad luck. Looking around, Jules was nowhere to be seen or heard. We had English IV together next anyway, so I took off to class without him.

I'd gotten to class before him and sat down in my usual seat—in the middle row and almost in the back. Jules and I had figured out that the least amount of attention was afforded to those seats, which helped us out considering we skipped class a lot. The burnouts sat in the complete back, sleeping and probably dreaming of setting things on fire. I would admit that most of those guys were acquaintances of mine—meaning I hadn't fought or thought about fighting any one of them—but I wasn't quite that far gone, yet. I still planned on graduating, at the very least. The smart kids sat in the front, the side seats were too easy to see, etcetera. Jules and I had figured this high school thing out from the very start.