Lonely, I Believe That You Will Find Me

Another year, another day, another class I would probably sleep in. Music Writing. What kind of class was that? Damn bank geeks took this class. This is what I got for being high the day we picked electives.

I saw eyes follow me as I walked into class. Quietly, I sat in the first seat I saw open, the one right next to the door. The seat next to me was thankfully open. I figured they were too scared to even sit next to me. But I could feel the kid behind me’s eyes burning into the back of my head. I half turned my head and smiled at him, and smirked when I saw his face turn red. Kyle something, I think his name was. I knew he had had a crush on me since the 5th grade, and I had used that to my advantage freshmen year to get him to let me cheat off of him. He was the reason I had passed algebra I.

The rest of the kids piled in. I sank further into my seat as each of them sent a shocked look in my direction as they passed. I knew absolutely no one, except that I had copied off of most of them some time or other. The last person to walk in was Georgie Thomas. Her expression to me was more of a glare. It was an understatement to say Georgie hated me. It was more like revulsion. I glared right back at her, though my feelings toward her weren’t as high as contempt. I actually sort of liked her. Maybe not like, but at least there was respect there. She had been the only person who had ever said anything to my face. I knew everyone talked about me. I knew most people didn’t like me. But no one said anything to me. That was the worst part about being popular. No one wanted to tell you the truth about how they really felt about you. But not Georgie. She had actually had the balls to call me a self-centered, egotistical bitch. And I had to admit, it made me like her. Not that I would ever tell her or anyone else that, of course.

“Okay, let’s begin,” the teacher walked in. Mr. B. He was the hottest teacher here. Go figure the band geeks got him. He placed his stuff on his desk and smiled at us. “Welcome to Music Writing. Now, if you’re here that means you have interest in writing lyrics, correct?” There was a unison of yeses throughout the class. “Very good. This must also mean you’re musical in some shape or form.” Everyone murmured yes again.

I scoffed. Musical? The only time I sang was in my shower when no one could hear me. And the last time I had even gone in the piano room was when I was five years old. Musical wasn’t exactly an adjective that described me.

“Ah Ms. Lewis,” Mr. B said. “I was told you’d be joining my class.”

“That infamous am I,” I asked seductively. What can I say? He was hot.

He smiled. “If you mean warnings about cutting and disruptive behavior, then yes you are.”

I just leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs under my desk, and my arms across my chest. “Whatever,” I said.

Suddenly, the door opened and a disheaveled Joe walked in. “Sorry I’m late Mr. B,” he said. “There was a – um disturbance in the halls.”

Mr. B looked over his appearance, and shook his head. “Have a seat Mr. Jonas,” he said, and continued on with a summary of the class. Joe came and sat in the only empty seat left, the one next to me.

I wasn’t listening. I was too busy staring at Joe. His hair was wet, and his clothes were all messed up. I sighed. The guys had started picking on him already? Poor kid. “Psst,” I whispered, trying to get his attention.

I know he heard me because he went rigid, but he kept his attention strictly on Mr. B. I sighed. Nerds.

“Joe,” I said a little louder.

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “What,” he asked me quietly.

“Who did it,” I asked him.

“Did what,” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb,” I rolled his eyes. “Which one of them was it?”

“No one did anything,” he whispered.

“Stop being such a freaking baby and just tell me,” I said, aggravated now.

He glared at me. “Stop being such a bitch then.”

I gaped at him. What? I opened my mouth to curse him out when Mr. B cut in. “Is there a problem Mr. Jonas?”

Oh yeah, ask the nerd. “No sir,” Joe replied.

“Ms. Lewis,” he asked me.

I glared at Joe and leaned back in my chair again. “No Mr. B,” I said. “No problem at all.”

“Then please pay attention Ms. Lewis,” he told me before continuing with his lesson. “As I was saying, the final project will consist of you reciting, and possibly even performing your lyrics. You may work in groups as well. But more on that later.”

I sighed, looking at Joe one last time before putting my head down. What the hell has caused him to snap like that? Joe was usually Mr. Nice, nerd extraordinaire. Rolling my eyes, I pushed it out of my mind, and closed my eyes, blocking out what Mr. B was saying. This was going to be a long yea.