There I was, Jack Barakat, in my eighth grade year on my way to my first hour class. I look around at my peers and took note on how most of them, included me, started going through puberty over the summer. I watched as young teen girls approached each other, bragging about bra sizes and the boys trying to stop their cracking voices.
I got to my first hour which was English and strolled to the back of the room. It was mostly full but a few seats were open. Finally, the bell rung and the middle-aged man who sat behind the wooden desk, Mr. Smith, spoke.
"Welcome to English. This year we will be re--" His voice was cut off by the opening of the door. A flustered, brown-eyed boy stood before the class, looking uncomfortable under our gazes.
"Mr. Gaskarth, I'm guessing?" Mr. Smith asked, not quite impressed.
The unnamed boy just nodded. Mr. Smith scoffed and said, "Use your words, Mr. Gaskarth."
"Ye-" He cleared his throat, "Yes."
"Well, take a seat, please," Mr. Smith said a little bit impatiently. Gaskarth looked around. There was an empty seat right next to me and one in front of the really angry, belligerent kids.
His scared eyes scanned the room until they landed on the seat next to me. Then, he looked at me and I gave him a reassuring smile. He visibly let out a breath of relief and made his way to my direction and took his seat.
"Hey, man. I'm Jack," I said to him.
He looked at me and said, "I'm Alex." His accent was thick in the air.
"Oh, my God! You're British, dude. What's it like?" I spoke like a kid with a sugar rush. He looked a bit frightened but recovered and we talked for the rest of the hour.
That day. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the day I, Jack Barakat, met my best friend, Alex Gaskarth.
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A.N.
So basically, this is just my theory of jalex. of course not everything will be accurate. it's just a fun thing. anyway. enjoy.
-karma
