Passin' Me By

She Keeps Passin' Me By

I was chilling at the gas station with my best friend, Jamie Terrell, as we ate freeze pops on a humid June afternoon. It was a very nice day for me. I enjoyed the summer heat, I got to hang with my best friend and I scored a 95% in science class, the class which I majorly struggle in, and absolutely despise. Although my hatred for the subject is only because I'm not the best at it, I was proud of my mark on the cells quiz.

Meanwhile, Jamie had a terrible day. She got a 31% on the cells quiz, which didn't really get her down, but what really did was that her boyfriend, D'Angelo, broke up with her after school. They were madly in love with each other. They'd spend every day together, leaving no time for me to hang out with Jamie. I'm not going to lie, I'm partly glad they broke up so Jamie can spend more time with her bestie. I also wasn't too fond of D'Angelo. He was stubborn and filled with jealousy. D'angelo would always attempt to get me away from Jamie. Despite what I think about Jamie's ex, I do know that she needs all my support right now.

She wore a long face as she bit a chunk of the freeze pop into her mouth.

"I know you love D'angelo," I started, looking at my best friend. "but in order to get over him, just think about all the bad things about him."

Jamie looked at me with a concerned look on her face. "Boy, you have never had a love life. What are you doing giving me your good for nothing advice?"

"Its just advice for all types of broken relationships."

Suddenly I noticed a beautiful lady step out of a sleek Rolls Royce. It was the one and only Anita Jones, the most attractive girl in town. Sorry, Jamie. (Though, I'm not really sorry because I'm not attracted to Jamie at all.) Anita is beautiful, curvy, tall, slim, and elegant, she could be a model. Boys would come at her from left to right, from school to all the way to the gas station. In fact, a dude was getting rejected by her right then.

Jamie nudged me with her shoulder, smirking, knowing about how I was crushing on the model-like girl who attended our school. "Go, ask her out," she whispered.

I shook my head. I could never ask Anita out. I didn't want to risk getting rejected, and I sure would if I tried talking to her. I've witnessed many brothers get rejected by her, even what the girls would call the most finest boys got rejected by Anita Jones.

"Chicken," Jamie rolled her eyes and giggled.

"Whatever, man."

Anita stepped out of the convenience store, holding a cup of Tim Horton's coffee. Her heels clacked against the ground as she stepped to her beautiful car.

"I don't know how she wears heels all the time. She even wears 'em in the winter with the snow and allat." Jamie commented.

"I guess she likes the elegant look." I stared at Anita's car as she drove away while I sucked on a freeze pop.

"Hey, you kids! Get outta here! Stop loitering!" Sammy, the manager exclaimed, looking at me and Jamie. Sammy was an old man who has ran the convenience store for a very long time. We've known him since we were little kids in the first grade, trying to convince the man to give us free candy.

"Alright, alright," Jamie responded as we left the gas station. "Ol' man is mad for no reason," she shook her head.

As we walked down the street, I noticed a poster on a pole. It read, "The Artist's Circle."

I paused to read the poster, interested in the club. It was a space for poets, rappers, singers, comedians, and really anybody who is talented with their words. Apparently they'd meet up every Friday from 6:00 to 7:00 at the Compassion Cafe.

"What are you, Shakespeare?" Jamie questioned me, chuckling. "The kids who hang there think they are so articular."

"Jamie, the word you're looking for is articulate. And do you even remember who Shakespeare is?"

"Nah, but from what I remember I think he was an artist. Was he that painter?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"Man, whatever!" I howled in laughter.

"But you do know what I'm saying, right? That place is full of snobs and wannabes. I reccomend you don't go." Jamie told me, taking the last chunk of her freeze pop into her mouth.

"Yeah, aight." I assured her, shrugging off her statement and debating on performing at the Compassion Cafe. Who knew where this curiosity would take me?