All The World May Be a Stage, But We Can't All Be the Best of Actors

Nothing frustrates me more than being ignored. I try extremely hard every day to gain attention from teachers, peers, and my parents. Usually, I succeed. However, for the past three days, I could not get James Borden's attention for my life. Every day in drama he would ignore me. Every day in Chemistry, he would ignore me. After class and in between classes, he would ignore me. I even offered to pay him to practice our scene, and he ignored me. I didn't understand what was wrong with him. Everyone liked me, so why was he so different?

I had pondered many ideas. I thought maybe he didn't like me for being homosexual. I decided against that. The way he treated me wasn't as though he were disgusted, just uninterested. My next theory was that I smiled too much. I decided against that, too. I hadn't smiled enough around him to bother him, only because he frustrated me so much that I couldn't even bare to think about smiling. Perhaps I was too popular or too much of a "goody-two-shoes". It was neither. I was well-liked, but I wasn't popular, plus I'd done my fair share of wrong. So what on Earth was his problem?

"How's your scene coming along?" Jenna asked, a knowing look plastered on her face.

"It's coming along. James could be doing more, but my end is coming along very well."

What I had said was, of course, one giant lie. James ignoring me had completely displaced my focus.

"That's good. Todd and I are doing great. We seem to fit, you know, even though he's gay--homosexual. Too bad she paired you with that Borden kid. You guys don't seem to click." I rolled my eyes after she corrected herself. Gay and homosexual mean the same thing. I wasn't stupid.

"It's a challenge, but I think I can take it," I said, smirking inwardly. She smiled a plastic smile and nodded.

"Good luck," she said, and skipped off.

I was walking around the mall, looking for something of interest in the window displays. I found myself wandering into a small beauty supply store. I made my way towards the hair products and began searching for a new can of hairspray. I was in desperate need of more.

A saleswoman asked me, in passing, if I needed any help. I shook my head and reached for my favorite brand of hairspray before heading towards the counter. A girl with a fishnet shirt and dark lipstick looked up at me with a glare. She quickly rung up my hairspray and handed me a receipt, wordlessly.

I began to walk out of the store when I ran into someone. I blinked and looked at the person I ran into. I scowled as the man started cursing at me and all the rest of us "fucking disrespectful teenagers".

I looked for any other stores that may catch my interest, but there were none. I exited the mall and began looking for my car in the massive parking lot. I started towards a car of the same color and make as mine, but when I saw the yellow "Fremont High" school spirit writing all over it, I realized it was not mine.

I kept looking for a gleam of the dark blue paint, but unfortunately, I had forgotten where I had parked, completely. Then, I was suddenly distracted by the strong scent of cigarette smoke. I made a face and tried to keep looking for my car, but the smell was so strong I could hardly think. I began looking for the owner of the cancer.

James Borden stood not twenty feet away, blowing smoke out of his pierced lips. His icy blue eyes were darting around like usual, just not as much. He seemed so much more relaxed in this state and environment.

I smiled and waved at him, seeking his attention. He saw me, because his eyes lingered on me for a moment, before averting elsewhere. He ran a hand through his black and blond hair.

I began to walk towards him, but when I stopped to let a green minivan pass by, he began walking away at a pace too fast for me to catch him.

I sighed and saw my car in the distance, starting in that general direction. A small part of me hoped that James would wander that way, but that hope died when I reached my car and he was nowhere in sight.

Why is he so fascinating?

I started the engine of my car, starting to drive home. I ran a red light and a stop sign, but I didn't realize it until I went past them both. My mind was elsewhere. I hadn't any idea where, exactly, because it kept changing. One moment, I would think about out-acting Jenna. The next moment I would be thinking about how to get James to act with me. The next moment I would be thinking about how to get James's attention in general. Then, my brain would freeze and rewind back to thinking about out-acting Jenna.

It was all very confusing.

When I arrived at my house, my mother was cooking something in the kitchen. I couldn't really tell what it was supposed to be, but it was in a pot on the stove and I wasn't so keen on eating it when it was finished. My mother always had these crazy ideas. Her career plans change every week, but for the past little while, she's been planning on becoming a chef. Therefore, I have to sit through eating her horrible meals she insists on cooking. My mother isn't a terrible chef when she cooks something normal, but apparently chefs create their own dishes, and my mother has come up with some extremely odd concoctions.

"Matthew! You're home, dear!" My mother ran over and gave me a giant hug. I didn't hug her back, but she didn't seem to notice.

She practically leaped over to the stove, looking inside the pot and stirring it. The scent came into my nostrils and it took all the effort in the world not to cringe. I would rather smell James's cancer stick than smell that.

"What's for dinner, Mom?" I dared to ask.

"Oh it's a surprise, silly!" she said, grinning wildly.

"Of course it is," I murmured under my breath as I began walking toward the living room.

My sister was seated on the couch, playing with a rattle and watching some children's television program. I always wondered why my mom decided to have another child. I didn't particularly care for children, and my drooling younger sister was included in that generalization. She made unnecessary noises and tended to scream a lot. I also didn't find it fair that she didn't have to eat my mother's meals. She got her own special dinners while I suffered through whatever my poorly mistaken mother decided would go nicely together.

"Matt-yoo," she said, and pointed at me. I nodded and began to try and walk away, but I knew it was a pointless attempt.

She screamed.

I walked over to her and pet her blonde hair before beginning to walk away, again. She had this strange fetish with people playing with her hair. A simple "hello" never worked for her. She was like a small St. Bernard that drooled and cried more.

When I was halfway down the hall, my mother called me for dinner. I cringed at her obnoxious voice and slowly walked back into the kitchen. My mother had set two plates on the table, piled with her mystery dish. She was setting my sister in a high-chair as I reluctantly seated myself. I looked down at the red goo on the plate. There were chunks of a light pink substance in it, and I wasn't completely sure what the chunks were or what they were supposed to be. I looked up at her in question.

"It's seafood marinara," she explained, "with tuna."

I blinked and stared at the plate in terror. I looked over to my little sister, who was enjoying chopped up hot dogs practically swimming in ketchup. I looked up to my mother, who was smiling warmly at me. I slowly picked up my fork and scooped up the bizarre entree. I hesitated before putting it in my mouth. Immediately, I regretted eating it. I swallowed without chewing and forced a smile for my mother's sake. She grinned back at me and continued eating her food. Did she have mutated taste buds? Could she not taste how vile it really was?

"Nom-nom!" exclaimed my little sister, sending chunks of hot dog in every direction.

"Mable, swallow before you talk," my mother ordered, not very assertively.

I glared at the small blonde beast, since she got hot dog all over me and my food. My mother looked at me, sympathetically, and gave me a nod to excuse me from the table. I glared at my sister one last time before heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

The next day in drama class, Jenna was practically glowing as she practiced her part. Todd was not doing poorly, either. I turned to look at James. He seemed to be focusing very hard on the back of the chair in front of us, his brow crunched together. I waved a hand in front of his face and he turned only to glare at me.

"Do you want to practice or what?"

Then he said the first words I've heard him say all day.

"Fuck you."