We're called Purple Potato

Stop Staring.

He's staring again. Not the romantic "I love you but i don't know how to say it" kind you see in rom-coms or any Disney Channel show. To be honest it's closer to the stare of a creepy murderer on a mystery show. He just stares at random objects all of the time and sometimes i happen to be that random object. I self conciously pull up my baggy black skinny jeans. Ever since my mom put my entire family on this stupid "No sugar, no grain" diet none of my clothes fit right. He's still staring. After about two minutes of mentally battling with myself, i build up enough courage to say something. "Hey" i say. He doesn't notice. "Hey" i say again. He blinks and then looks me in the eye. "Hey, stop staring" i say. He instantly looks embarrassed. I feel kind of bad for calling him out. "Oh, sorry. I do that sometimes" he says. "Yeah, i know." i say. He looks around the room as if searching for something else to stare at. As he looks in the opposite direction of me i notice the piece of his blonde hair that always stick up in the back. The idiot can't even use a brush. Well, obviously he can, considering he does have a pretty good quiff. I am terrible about judging guys' hair. I mean, i judge all peoples hair in general, but especially guys. I have this ranking system in my head. 10 is absolute best and 1 is like... Bowl Cut. I would say he is a 7. I am impressed that he actually does his hair, because most guys i around here still have their moms cut their hair, and they do absolutely nothing to style it. I know i am a terrible person for doing this, but honestly i don't care enough to try and change. We're standing waiting for our teacher for our "Song Writing and Producing" class to get here. He is almost always late. There are 5 other kids in our class. He must be the oldest in our class, he looks the oldest or maybe be's just tall. He has to be at least 6 foot. Blue fringe girl is wearing one of her many Pierce The Veil shirts. She sighs loudly and says "Why is he always late?" I roll my eyes. Her name is Victoria and she always complains. Don't get me wrong, she's nice enough, but she doesn't keep her mouth shut. She HAS to make a comment about everything. Last week i wore my One Direction shirt and she harrassed me about how they aren't a real band. It takes everything i have not to rip her head off. Today i am wearing my Taylor Swift RED shirt, i swear to god if she says anything against Taylor my inner rath will be released all over her heavily eye lined face. I know Taylor would never do anything like that, this thought is the only thing that keeps me at bay. Instead i steam silently and write songs about how people need to except differences in the world when i get home. Victoria isn't all bad, she writes pretty good songs and she has an ok voice. Sometimes we talk, but it always ends with her getting the better of me. I notice poor little Anna in the corner, she is the nicest girl, but no one talks to her. I learned the hard way my first day. She was friendly so i talked to her, but after that she wouldn't leave me alone for three months. It's just easier to ignore her. Emma and Bryan are chatting it up, as always. They are the rich kids. They are really talented, but just not very good. They don't ever practice and to be honest i don't think they care. They just get by because of their good looks and expensive guitars. Andrew is beside Bryan, desperatly trying to be a part of his and Emma's conversation, he's the wannabe. His songs are pretty good though. We perform our latest song at the end of every month. I mentally roll my eyes at myself for being excited to hear Blondies. Blondie is mine and my friends nickname for Luke. I see Victoria look at me, not just normal look, but a full body scan. My stomache drops. "I heard Taylor Swift's new song today" she says. I try and be optimistic, maybe she liked it. "Yeah? and?" i ask. "It was ok. Typical pop song. I find it funny how much she is obsessing over Harry Styles. Like didn't they date for like a week three years ago or something? Like seriously, i see why he dumped her. The song was catchy enough though, her song writers obviously know what they are doing." I feel the burning hot steam rise in my body. My fists clench and my stomache tightens up. "She writes her own songs" i say as calmly as i can. "Doens't help her case" she says. I roll my eyes and try to ignore her. Until i hear her going on about how lame Taylor is to Bryan and Emma. The familiar feeling of hatred and sadness rises inside of me. I almost fall over from flinching when i feel someone tap my shoulder. I look over an realize it's Luke. He leans towards me and says in a low voice. "I heard Taylor Swift's new song too, i thought it was really good" I smile. I feel some of the cold anger wash away, but it's still there deep down, like a stain on a white dress i can't wear anymore. (Authors note: "Stain on a white dress i can't wear anymore" is a Tswift lyric for those of you who don't know) "Cool. So do i" i say. god i'm stupid. He nods and looks somewhere else. I realize he is staring at Victoria now. I feel a rush of anger and, as much as i hate to admit it, jealousy. He looks at her a lot. But then again he also looks at me a lot. But i feel like he looks at her a different way. He dresses punk, so does she, maybe they are meant to be. I don't know. The thing is, i sort of dress punk, i'm not preppy, that's for sure, but i'm not scene like Victoria either. I am just this awkward mesh of things. I don't only like one type of music, i like all kinds. Same goes for clothes i guess. One day i wear a flower crown and dance around to Walk Off The Earth, the next i wear flannel and ripped jeans and head bang to Green Day. But honestly most days i just dress like a hipster/punk/white girl and listen to One Direction, Taylor Swift and Beyonce. I guess i will never fit in anywhere. Finally Mr. Mark is here to free us of our awkward teenage misery.