The John Hughes Club

Chapter Five

Chas

I was hoping to hang out with Mindy at some point over the weekend, but she's spending it with her dad, back in Stratford-upon-Avon. During lunchtime today, myself, Ella and Zigs could all tell just how excited she was about returning to the place that's home in every corner of her heart. She clearly misses her dad, so I'm happy that she's getting to spend some quality time with him this weekend.
Happy for her.
A little gutted for me.
I'll admit it right here, I'm disappointed that I'm not the one getting to spend that quality time with her, but I have an inkling that Mindy and I are going to be spending much more time together. From the moment I first saw her, there was something in my soul telling me that she was different. I'm not just talking about the colour of her hair and the eye makeup that Mrs. Woolington is just about letting her get away with, different—I'm talking about the magnetism of her personality, different.

This girl has many depths to her, I just know it. What interests me about her, is that she has her own story.
Every page number.
Every chapter.
Is her own...and it's a story that I really want to know.

As soon as I clapped eyes on Mindy, my stare was held hostage. There were occasions when I'd be looking at her, that she'd also be looking at me. With two different people, it could have been weird or awkward, but with us, it never was. It felt like we both had this awareness that we were confident outsiders, choosing to do things our way, and were simply acknowledging that awareness with smiles of admiration and glances of understanding. That's why I wanted her to be a part of The John Hughes Club—it's my thing, I wanted Mindy to be a part of my thing. Sure, I have friends at school. To me, they're more likeable acquaintances. These kids are alright and all that, but I never fully let them inside of my head. My head can be a chaotic, sometimes dark place; too chaotic and too dark for those who are just beginning to develop leg and underarm hair. No, I don't like those acquaintances knowing that place exists inside of my head...or why it does. It's simpler to stay positive, maintaining my carefree façade; just because it is.

How different I am, has earned me respect.
It's earned me high regard from my peers.
Respect and high regard that I never thought I'd have from anyone.

Just like Mindy, I'm my own person. I do my own thing. Say my own thing. Dress in my own way. I don't follow trends. I don't follow what the other kids are all doing—I lead my own way.
That's what instantly struck me about Mindy Diaz. With her untamed dark curls and her eyes framed by the darkest of eyeshadow, liner and mascara—she's alight with individuality. She's cool. Intelligent. Witty as hell, in her own dry and abrupt way. Yeah, I like her. I like who she is. I know I'm going to like getting to know more about who she is. While I'll be discovering more about her, for the first time ever, I think I'll be willing to let someone discover more about me.

In the short time I've known Mindy, I've picked up on her adoring her father and being indifferent about her mother. I don't have a mother in my life, but I certainly understand feeling an indifference towards a parent. My relationship with my father, is at best, strained. At worst, unpredictable. Since my mum died, life with my dad has gradually degraded over the years. I don't talk about, but I sometimes write about it—through poems and verses. Again, it's not something I share with people...I only share it with the paper that I'm writing it down on. I need that outlet. That emotional release.

Another outlet and release of mine, is wood carving. A gift passed down from my grandpa before his arthritic hands got the better of him, he taught me the joy of creating something other than words, with my very own hands. Mindy happened to mention how much she loved hedgehogs today, so here I am, with my carving chisel, creating a miniature figure of one for her...yup, I think I might be developing a little crush on this girl!