Private (On Hold)

Entry #1

Entry #1 - Tuesday - Oct. 7  

(Substitute Diary) 

I'm getting desperate!

Seriously. I'm using the back of my TO DO LIST notebook as my temporary diary, which if I hadn't been Ms. Blockhead lately wouldn't have ever happened (I know. I know. Don't blame me for not being rebel enough to do it. I don't doodle or draw stupid stuff on the last page of my notebooks like most bored students do. I'm actually a busy person who doesn't have any time to spare for those things.). I needed to organize my thoughts and this was the only way to do it.

Oh God, I couldn't risk all my secrets to that arrogant Brit. Jon and I go WAY back and that also made trusting him impossible. Just thinking about him reading those pages made me feel like he's stripping me down bare. I just need that orange leather cover brushing against my palm. I NEED that diary.

But to get it, meant approaching the jack-ass and actually forcing it out of his hands.

Lots of love, 

Emma

~~~~~

I've faced a lot of jerks in my time but I've never really understood Jonathan McNeill. He spends half of his time flirting with girls who were all throwing themselves at him and doing stupid, childish stuff. But when you've taken a glimpse on his marks, you'll be as confused as I am. I'm not even sure if he had ever read any of his textbooks, let alone any books.

I grabbed the shirt of the surprised-looking Jon and pulled him closer to me. "Where is it?" Praying to God that he knew exactly what I meant. I didn't want him saying that my diary was with him with all of the curious stares of all the people in the cafeteria.

This must be a great turn out for them. The clash between the smart-ass ice queen and the slick prodigy. Even his friends around the table, stopped talking and watched avidly at the show. I even saw George slipping Alex a five dollar bill, chuckling. Ugh. Anything for money.

"What are you talking about, Ems?" he asked innocently, his green eyes shining like a four-year old begging for candy. Both of his hands shot right up in protest. "Whatever it is," he mumbled.

Oh, so that's how he wanted to play it. He wanted me to say it out loud. I gave him a smile which he should interpret as, I'm so gonna kill you right now. I tugged again at his shirt but he still told me nothing I'm interested in. This time, I dragged him out of the cafeteria and into the nearest girl's comfort room, not sparing a glance back. I didn't even care if he was there or even when all the girls inside gave me wierd and angered looks just because I disturbed their afternoon lip gloss application. It digusted me, though, when each of them gave Jon flirty smiles as they went out. Jon, on the other hand, made it more annoying when he winked at them back.

"Well, so much for that," I said as I crossed my arms. "Where is it?"

"Could you please give me a break? Just tell me what is it you want," he let on. As the pervert he truly was, he got that oppurtunity to inspect the comfort room. He placed a hand on his pocket and the other one, he used for opening the cubicle doors. "Oh my God. Yours are better than ours. At least a lot... cleaner."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, 'cause we do it better than you do, idiot. Now, where's my journal?"

Then, suddenly saying it made everything seemed to lighten his mind up. "Oh, your diary! Yeah, I have it and in case you're wondering, it's safe with me. I promise," he did the sign where you draw a cross on your left chest and then hold it up, palms out.

"That's comforting enough. But seriously, though, I need it back."

"Oh, I'm not finished yet, Ems. I'm at the part where your mum saw you kissing the telly because Clive Owen's face came up. King Arthur, was it? Now that's the kind I want to read from books not the kinds that tells about Quantum Physics or Chemical Bonding."

I frowned. I stepped closer to him and pointed a finger at his chest, hoping to warn him. "First of all, don't call me that! Second, Give it back or I'll... I'll..." Damnit. I couldn't find any words to finish it. He seemed so perfect. I don't know what to taunt him with.

Jon smirked. "Nice chatting with you, Emma. Let me know if you'll be dragging me inside here again to demand for your journal. I'm telling you that the girls don't like it."

"Oh, just shut up. I'll do anything. Anything," I begged.

This statement must've made up his day because he paced around the room, his hand rubbing his chin. "Anything?" His eyes showed a very mischievous glint that I can't help but hate.

I winced but agreed anyway, suddenly tasting something sour in my mouth.

"Alright. How about you be my girlfriend?"