James' Point Of View.
I woke up with a pounding in my head. My dad was yelling at me to get up and then a door slam. I can't remember anything that happened last night. All I remember is driving to the church and the sunset. I can't remember how I got home.
"Get up, you have to go to school." My mom said walking into my room with a basket of my clothes. I got up and slid on some black pants with holes in the knees, a red T-shirt, and black vans. I grabbed my jean jacket and my book bag. The headache was killing me.
I walked out and looked at my sister. "What?" I asked as she smiled at me.
"You.. your pain is funny." She laughed as she ate her cereal. "Especially since you caused it." I nodded.
"Are you riding the bus?" I asked.
"Nope." She smiled. "Dad wants me to ride with you. And heads up, when we get home from school, you are going to get it. Dads mad."
"Oh no, I'm terrified." I said sarcastically as I walked out the door. "Plus I have to work late. Are you coming?"
She got up and followed me to my truck. God my head is killing me. "You want me to drive?" She asked.
"Sure." I said and slid over to the other side of the truck. She hopped in and drove us to school.
I got out of my truck and went into the thing we call hell. I looked around at all the people walking the halls. I can't believe I'm here early. I walked past girls gossiping, football players hyping each other up for Friday nights big game against our schools 'enemy' I don't pay attention half the time so I forgot who they are, guys talking about 'banging hot chicks' and 'wow that girl is fine' god I hate those players, Everyone in this school annoys me except-
"Hey James. How are you feeling?" Michael asked from beside me. Not gonna lie, my head hurts.
"I'm fine. Just a small headache." I smiled like it didn't bother me that much and looked at him.. he is wearing a black t shirt, grey sweatpants, and black Nike's. Dang.
I got to wondering. Why be so friendly now? After eight years of ignoring my existence, why does he care now? Why just start talking to me again after simply giving him a ride? Why disregard his dad secretly hating my guts and not wanting him to be around me anymore now?
I ignored my thoughts for a while and kept walking to my first class, Michael walking next to me. The thought just kept coming back though, why care about me again after 8 years?
I sat down in my first class, Math, where I sit next to this girl that just won't leave me alone, all she does is want to bother me with her boy problems and how she wants a guy in her life. She likes to flirt with me all the time.
I mean, I get it, you're lonely but why do you want me? Lower your standards for a guy that everyone hates, is going no where in life, and gets into fights all the time? I'm no catch.
I just ignored her the whole time, like I always do. Second block, Science, wasn't horrible, I sit in the back by the window, the teacher is nice and my favorite named Mr. Anderson, but I don't care for history. I just watch the birds and trees.
After third block, history, which is very boring, Was lunch. I am sat alone in the back with my own table to myself cause no one wants to sit with the trouble maker with no friends, I sat and looked at stuff on my phone until Michael showed up with his plate of.. Lasagna?
"Can I sit here?" He asked.
"Nah, it's occupied by an abundance of friends." I smiled up at him.
"I'll take that as a yes." He said, sitting his plate down and then himself. He looked at me and then at my phone. "Whatcha doing?" He asked.
"You see, this is a ph-one, you can do things like look on the internet." I said pointing at the phone.
"Wow, so cool." He said, playing along with my sarcasm. "So, do you remember anything about last night?"
I got very curious, how does he know anything about last night? "No, why? Did I say anything about-" he stopped me.
"You told me I'm perfect." He chuckled. "That's about it."
"Thank god." I was so relieved to hear I hadn't said anything about.. something that I would like to keep secret.
"So, what are you trying to keep secret?" He asked, taking a bite of his lasagna.
"Nothing? Why do you care?" I asked sounding a little to defendant. "You are the-"
He cut me off. "I'm not perfect.. and no matter how many times you say it or think it, it doesn't make it so." He let the fork drop from his hands and looked at me so seriously.
I smiled, "What makes you not perfect?"
"I'm like you. Maybe not the drinking or fighting or even the lack of brains." He paused, "but.. I'm not the kid my dad wants me to be."
"Oh, boohoo, you've got it made, I heard you got into that college in San Francisco, you got more brains and I will admit that, I've seen the way Kaitlyn looks at you, she likes you and she is beautiful, you have a girl that likes you, and an amazing future." I told him.
"It's not that easy, the lord knows my sin." he said.
"Wow, and what kind of sin?" I asked.
"I- just forget it." He told me getting up from the table and leaving.
