Just Say You Need Me

The Good Life

"Drew!"

I shoot up from my pillow in a gasp, looking to my alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to me. 7:30 AM.

Shit.

"Drew!" I heard my uncle Michael shouting. "You're going to be late for school! Come on!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." I manage to muster from my dry lips. I slowly stand up from my bed and stretch my arms and back. I let out one last big yawn, then go over to my dresser to find an outfit for the day. I decide on a Panic! At The Disco shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. I quickly get changed and walk out of my room, grabbing my school bag as I leave.

I walk downstairs to see my Uncle Michael sitting at the table reading a newspaper. It's strange how older people like reading depressing news, but I never stop him. He has his hobbies, I have mine.

"Good morning, Sleepy head," He chuckles, looking at my obvious bedhead.

"Good morning..." I mutter, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter. I go to the fridge to get some jam, but of course we're out. "Did you not get any jam from the store yesterday?"

"I didn't know we needed any," Uncle Michael retorted.

"I told you that we did, Mike. Plus, you saw me eat the rest of it yesterday during breakfast."

"Alright, Alright. I'll text Alexis when she goes to the store and ask if she can get your jam."

Alexis is my aunt and my uncle Michael's wife. They've been married for 20 years, longer than I've been alive, and they're the most amazing couple ever. If you've heard the phrase 'opposites attract' before, they are the definition of that. It's impeccable.

"Thank you," I say sarcastically. I decide to put butter on my toast and close the door of the refrigerator. I butter up my toast, grab an apple and head for the door.

"What were your numbers like this morning?" I hear my uncle yell. Of course he has to refer to my diabetes like that. I mean seriously, can't I just keep that information to myself and move on with the day?

"I haven't tested yet. I'm going to when I get to school though, so don't worry." I reassure him, knowing my line is total BS.

"I always worry, kid. It's what I do." He shoots me a fatherly glance and I chuckle back at him.

"I'll text you my numbers later, I promise." I head out the door and begin my walk to school.

So here's the thing about me; I hate Fridays. I hate the very concept of them. I'd much rather be busy than busy all year than have two days a week of nothingness. I hear people tell me all the time to "find new hobbies" or "Just go hang out with your friends", but I don't really have a lot of those. Not a lot of people would stick their neck out for a bullied emo fag like me. (Yes, I call myself a fag. I'm allowed to say it in self reference, but don't even begin to make that a nickname.)

I get to school, and all I hear in the halls is gibberish. I try not to pick up on any conversation, especially if it's about me. People love to talk, but when it comes to talking about things that matter, you won't hear it here. Even the teachers get caught in the whirlpool of idiocy sometimes, save for a select few.

I get to my English class just as the bell rings and get to my seat in the back. It's not really my seat per se, but since we don't have a seating chart, I've claimed it as my own. It's my own little slice of Heaven mixed in with the boiling pot of Hell that is this school.

"Good morning," Mr. Harris calls as he walks in. He stands at about 6'3, but is kind of skinny for his build. He always wears these outrageous ties during school, and today was no different. He legitimately walked into school with a hot dog tie on over a plaid shirt. I have to wonder what his wife must think of him.

"So today," He continues, "We will be studying semicolons and what their use in sentence structure is." The class silently laughs at the word colon, which earns a "When did high schoolers know what colon means?" remark from Mr. H. I must say, there's always something I've appreciated about Mr. Harris; the way he teaches his class, his kindness to his students, or simply his ability to grab your attention during a lesson. He's just an overall great person.

Just as the lesson begins though, a new boy walks into the room with a late pass. I've never seen him around school, so I think he might be new to the school and today is his first day. He must've gotten lost on his way here. Poor guy.

"Ah, it seems we have a new student," Mr. H says, motioning for him to show him the hall pass. "Mr. Richard Schwinn. You must be the new kid I have on my roster."

"Yes sir, that's me," Richard says with a small grin.

"Well then, please introduce yourself to the class. I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms!" Mr. Harris smiles down at him and steps to the side, giving Richard the metaphorical stage.

"My name is Richard Schwinn, but you can all call me Rick," He begins. "In case you're wondering, no, I'm not related to the creator of the Schwinn bicycle. I wish I was since that would mean a lot of money, but mine is just a name unrelated." He lets out a nervous chuckle, trying to break the ice. "I'm 17 years old, and I'm from Houston."

"Does anyone have any questions for Rick?" Mr. H asks the class.

One of the jocks in the front raise their hand. "Do you play any sports?"

"No, I'm not much for sports. I'm more of a gamer myself." Rick responds. He's tense and nervous, and it's so cute.

I raise my hand. "What's your favorite type of music to listen to?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Rick beams at me. "I love listening to rock music, and I actually learned how to play guitar at a young age."

I think I'm slowly falling for this boy already. Smart, good-looking and talented? This is going to be one hell of a year.