Stuck Between The Pages

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: NORMAL

I wish I could walk into a room and feel superior and have my nose up at everybody, but I can't, because I know I'm just a huge nerd, and that wouldn't work for me.
-Chris Colfer

They told me boys don't cry just work my hardest, they told me you can lie just don't get caught, they told me boys will be boys there's nothing you can do about it, they told me don't think about how you look, they told me just be one of them.

So all my life I've tried to be the man they wanted me to be.

Can we normalize that boys can cry too?

I hate the way men treat women.

Lying doesn't sit well with me.

There are things I can do about it.

And we get self-conscious of the way we look.

Crying and caring about things not getting what I want through deceit or solving problems with my fists doesn't make me less of a man.

Not that being a typical man in society is something someone should look forward to being.

I wish being normal came with perks but instead it's somehow worse than being weird.

Or, at least in my crush's world, that's how it works.

Look at me -normal 'white' guy, normal jock, normal brain, normal looks, normal everything.

Perfectly ordinary.

What more could the smartest, most adorable girl in school ask for?

So I did more of the only thing I've been able to do for a year now, I wrote her a poem. And I stuck it in her book.

This time I had to watch- -painfully watch as the girl who thinks I'm a walking joke, reads my love given to her in ink form- -as Robin, right on cue, reads what I wrote her.

Can I tell you a secret?
In my head-
We are together
And we are happy
This is nothing new
But I am just here
I am just me

Do you know yourself?
I know you-
You're smart
And intimidating
Of this I am sure
You are much more
Than I will ever be

Sincerely,
From a single star
In your entire universe

And I had to watch as the nerd turned red and bit her lip, as her hand held the slip of paper to her chest and eyes drop back to the book. 

As my name isn't the one being thought in her mind.

As she never turns to ask if it's me.

"What cha' reading?" My voice is gentle but the thoughts in my head aren't. "Did you just pull a page out of your book...isn't that illegal in nerd-land?"

"It's nothing." Robin says, tucking my poem away in her pocket.

I scoff, "Then can I see it?"

"No!" She shouts, scooting away from me before flushing in embarrassment as a few pair of eyes glance over to her. "I meant no...you can't. It's important."

"Why is it important?"

Out of all this time, I've never gotten to hear how she really feels about the poems -or about the person behind them, whoever she imagines me to really be.