Dude Looks Like a Lady

Party Crashers

  Note #34: Guys actually think, not with their pants, but with their heart and brains. Strange how long it took to notice that...

***

    "Why is it so important to you anyways?"

  It was a simple question, which required a not so simple answer. I could of responded with many things like 'oh, it has my math homework in it', 'I started my English essay on one the pages,' or 'it's me and charlie's "special' notebook.' But, of course, I replied with a hyper active jump, nearly crashing into one of the many guys walking to or fro class, with "I just need, okay?"

   Roy gave a short and, somewhat, defensive "okay," then moving onto a completely unrelated topic, I ignored, jabbering on until we both meant the two turns in the hall. He slapped a hand on my shoulder, still talking about something, then asking, "You okay with that, baby face?"

  Okay with what? Not really wanting to hear him blabbering again (never knew he liked talking so much before) and still searching every inch of the building for that damned notebook, I nodded, giving a "Yeah."

  He smiled, obviously pleased with my answer, moving down his hall and catching up with some fellow peers, chatting up a storm.

  I stood in place for a moment, looking at each and every corner for at least a hint of that stupid book, only to be meant with odd looks and shoves from other classmates.

  Fuck my life.

***

    Three periods had passed, and I was on edge. Somebody probably had my notebook, which had my name printed clearly inside the front cover, reading every single note and comment I have written in the past five days, and, if they were intelligent enough, would find out my horrifying secret and thus, no five thousand dollar prize for this girl's newspaper team.

  "Hey, newbie!"

My thoughts, as horrifying as they were, were rudely interrupted, my already rigid form freezing in place. I glanced over my shoulder and to the guy who called my "name" (seriously, you'd think that almost a week being here, they'd at least know my last name).

  Wait, was that Cris?

"Cris?" He smiled, one of those twenty watt smiles (the kind that blinds everyone in a one hundred miles radius), jogging up to me and slapping my back rather hard causing me to juggle my books, stumbling forward with the impact.

  "Hey," he said again, walking in step with me, "rumor has it that you and Roy are having a party tonight. True?"

   Party? Tonight? Me and Roy? What...?

Why wasn't I told this? My notebook was no longer a problem, for a brief passing moment, the thought of holding a party now fresh on my mind.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I answered stiffly, trying to remember if Roy had mentioned anything about this to me earlier.

  "Really?" he asked, unsure, "That's not what Roy's been telling people."

It hit me then (a lot of things have lately) bits and parts of the conversation held earlier in the day taking place. That's what he was talking about. And that's what I agreed to.

  Shit...

   "Oh, um, that party..." way to play it off, "Yeah, what about it?"

He grinned, leaning in to my ear and cupping his mouth with both of his hands, as if he were about to tell me the secret of the universe of something, "I was wondering if I could bring some...lady friends, if you know what I mean?"