playdead

Chapter Eight

Simon had never been so, so bored talking to someone.

Yes, he felt very bad to admit that talking to Belle was boring, but it was. Her monotone voice and bland way of talking was nothing short of embarrassing and uncomfortable to listen to.

Simon didn't want to shy away from her, though. She was beautiful and smart, and also she laughed at every joke Simon made which boosted his self esteem and confidence.

As they walked around, Simon gave blank answers to her questions and other things she talked about.
Sometimes the simple "Yes" or "Mhm" or the nodding of the head would work. But sometimes Simon actually had to result in answering the questions thoughtfully.

"Gah. I'm blabbering, aren't I?" Belle said, chuckling.
"...You were, yes." Simon said, smiling.

This is amazingly embarrassing. I'm going to walk away with so many regrets he thought.

"I'm so sorry. I just ah, I really like talking. To you. Not to be weird! But y'know, I uh...usually tend to connect to people who are..." Belle was about to say something wrong, Simon knew. By the look of her red face, it was easy to tell she was about to say something about his ugly ass face.

"Right...uh, anyway. Can I give you my home number? I like talking to you." Simon said.

"Sure...sure, yeah." Belle said. "I don't have a cellphone."

"Oh no, I meant on a house phone. Whatever they're called." Simon said reassuringly.

"Can't you use your phone book?" Belle said, almost worryingly. What's wrong with her? Is she okay?

"Yeah...I guess I'll do that." Simon brought out a black Sharpie and uncapped it. "What's your full name?"

"Belle, B-E-L-L-E, Twain, T-W-A-I-N." Belle said.

"Great. Thanks." Simon said. As soon as Simon said that, the bell rang loudly. Everyone outside slowly made their way back inside, as crowds and stampedes.

"I should be going." Belle said.
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow!" Simon said, waving.

Simon also returned back inside, scratching his head. Did that happen? Probably not. Don't tell me it did.

*******

For his last periods, Simon's classes were normal.

It was just drama class and orchestra. Both of which were in the same hall as each other, and near the front doors of the school.

As soon as Simon heard the bell, he packed up his cello and walked out of the class with his belongings in hand. Simon went to his locker (locker 322) and put in his combination. As he was getting his backpack, a black kid came up to him.

"Hey." He said.

"Hullo. Need something?" Simon asked.

"Nah. I'm just here to say uh, it was cool that you stood up to Patrick. In a very aggressive way. But man, are you dead..." He said.

"Don't remind me. I've been trying to figure out a plan to escape that smelly dog." Simon said, grabbing his pack and putting his stuff in it.

"Do you run fast?" He said.

"Yeah, decent. Why?" Simon asked, shutting his locker.

"Well...I have a bike collection by the little swampy area near by. If we run past 'em, we can go. I'll let you keep'a bike." The boy said.

"Awesome. What's your name?" Simon asked, smiling.

"Henry Washington." Henry said. "C'mon, let's do this..." Henry said.

"Simon, by the way." Simon replied, following Henry our to the front doors.