I'm With The Band

0.3

(Jaxon Walters pictured above)

 Just when I thought that this day couldn't feel any longer, I was proven wrong when Mr. Hanson, my pre-calc teacher, decided that it was the perfect day to give us a pop quiz. Whoever invented the pop quiz is definitely going to hell for that and I hope they burn for all of eternity. Not really, because that would be bad, but metaphorically definitely.

I stare down at the paper in front of me, gauging the questions and coming up with the conclusion that if I get a 79 or higher on this quiz, I deserve a trip to Kroger to buy myself a big fat tub of Ben & Jerry's. I mean seriously, when will I ever use derivatives and integrals in reality? My theory is that the government is making schooling harder and harder and adding random shit into the curriculum just to make it harder to get into an overpriced, harder version of high school. But like I said, that's just a theory. Mark my words but don't take my word for it.

The glorious sound of the end of the day bell fills my ears and I ferociously shove my books into my bag, throwing it on my back and dragging myself into the tunnel of terror (also called the main hallway, but more appropriately named the tunnel of terror due to all the underclassmen swarming around like a hive full of little wasps) and shoving my way to the student lot. I see Deb in the distance, not too far off, waiting in her spot in all her shiny glory for me. I switch my attention to the sandy blonde haired boy leaning up against her, smiling at me and waving slightly.

"Jax! You're practically sitting on Deb!" I say to my other best friend, running up and shoving him off of her, wiping the spot where he he was leaning with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. He laughs at me and I punch him in the arm.

"Easy, cheetah," he rubs his arm, acting like it was the most painful punch in the world. I laugh at his baby-like antics and he pulls me into a tight, cozy hug.

With most guys, I would probably be fairly uncomfortable but due to the fact that I've known Jax since the day I was born means that we're like siblings, fighting and wrestling and bickering and such. He lives in the blue bungalow to my left, our windows matching up. When we were nine or so, our parents got us white boards so that we could write messages to each other and leave them in our windowsills. We wrote to each other everyday until we were thirteen, when highschool started and we both and very little time in the mornings to do so.

I growl at him in response to his comment, and make claws with my hand, pretending to be a big cat. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a ride to school this morning from my dad, my car's in the shop. I need a ride," he says walking over to the passenger seat and tossing his bag in the leg area before climbing in. I follow suite, shoving the keys in the ignition and turning on the radio.

Throughout the whole car ride we sat in a comfortable silence. About halfway through our drive I feel eyes on the side of my face. I turn my head a little bit to see Jax staring at me, smiling to himself.

"Something on my face?" I ask, bringing my hand up to wipe my mouth. I didn't eat anything messy for lunch today so I have to clue what it could have been.

"No, no, it's nothing," he says and turns his head to look out the window. "Just getting one last look at my humble, best friend before she becomes famous."

I smack him again hard in the chest, causing him to let out a deep laugh.

"Damn, you should really stop hitting me," he giggles, rubbing his soon-to-be-bruised peck.

"You're right," I said, pausing for a second before grinning, ready to roast him with one of my many amazing comebacks. "That's animal abuse."

"HEY!" He screams and I max out the volume before I have to hear his stupid argument about how he is indeed a human being and not a little toad. I hear his faint mumbling as we continue on our merry way and pull up in my driveway. He hopped out, thanked me for the ride, and kissed the side of my head, as he usually does.