MySpace: A Place For Teachers

“Mason, get your ass up before I leave without you,” I grunted, dumping my used notebooks on his muscular back.

I heard him groan once before raising his head and blinking me into focus. “I'm up. Just leave without me; I'll meet you there.”

I rolled my eyes as I hooked my arms underneath his and yanked, only successfully moving him a few inches higher. “No can do, love. You'd just sleep the whole day away, I know.”

“Fine. Give me a few minutes, alright?”

My friend lurched upwards, stretching his limbs in contorting postures. He was always more flexible than I've ever been. I smiled.

“Alright, I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes,” I complied, turning on my heel towards the door, my soft cloth backpack swinging in sync with my movements.

I heard a mumbled reply, following the rustle of clothing. Mason, of course, always kept extra clothes here. Whether he got drunk, illegally, and had to stay at my house, or just didn't feel like going home. No doubt about it he would check my Myspace. I briefly considered changing my password, but decided against it. He knew all the passwords I would use, anyway.

I stopped by the kitchen to grab an Amp, and grabbed another two. I knew Mason would need them.

I grabbed a chocolate-chip granola bar and tucked it in the small pocket of my backpack for when I got hungry. I knew it would be gone before lunch, and I wouldn't even get to eat it.

I looked at the wall clock by the door. It had legitimate proof that Mason had one more minute before I left without him.

I cupped my hand around my mouth to amplify my voice and yelled to the door of my room, “Mason! Get your skinny white ass down here and off my Myspace!”

“My ass is tan, thank you! And I'm not on your Myspace!” Mason replied, laughing a bit at my accusation.

I rolled my eyes and swiftly brushed my short golden hair off of my neck out of habit. He'd just gotten off my Myspace, of course, right when I yelled to him.

He ran out of the room and tugged the door gently behind him. He swung his bulging dark coloured backpack over his shoulder, grinning at me.

I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Save it until after school, alright?”

“Fine, fine. It's not like I actually did anything, really,” Mason replied sweetly, opening the front door for me.

“You better hope not,” I muttered, walking out out the door and heading down the sidewalk to our high school.

Mason locked the door with his key and smiled charmingly at me. I kept walking as he jogged to keep up with me. He hummed in contentment as he concentrated on the scenery. I had a feeling he erased the events that took place this morning from my computer's history.

**

The school day passed by sluggishly. My first hour class seemed to drag out in inert time. Every time I would cast a glance over at the plain black and white circular clock, the second hand seemed to tick in the opposite direction. I swore I could hear it ticking so slowly, I nearly leaped out of my seat in exasperation.

Mason was asleep at his desk, drool hanging out of the side of his mouth. He looked so calm and serene if you overlooked the drool cascading down his lower lip and pooling in a small puddle by his hand. My eye twitched as I turned back to the clock.

Once again, a minute passed and then the second hand stopped and somewhat jerked backward a few seconds. I nearly groaned out loud. I might have been imagining the time issues, but I highly doubt it.

During second and third hour, I smacked my head against my desk and fell asleep. This time, Mason told me he experienced the same time trauma I did. Although I didn't drool in my sleep, I muttered things in my sleep. Mason described it as a somewhat gnawing sound. He rubbed my head to wake me up when both of those classes ended.

I wasn't having a particularly pleasant day.

**

It was time for Literature. I was a little more than anxious to just sit down and bury myself in my notebook. I knew he'd see me and repeat his speech from yesterday. Don't pick it up. Don't touch it, don't look at it, don't even think about it.

I shivered a bit as I glanced at Mason by my side. He was looking down at me with an amused smirk.

“What?” I inquired condescendingly.

“It's your favourite class,” Mason drew out the letter sounds in a sing-song voice, light and teasing.

I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff. “You know it was my favourite class before he came.”

Mason nodded, agreeing, although the glint in his eyes said otherwise. I decided not to push the matter further. His intent was to get us acquainted, but I knew what his real intent was. I firmly massacred the thought out of my head and smiled sweetly at Mason.

We walked through the threshold to a nearly empty classroom. It was half-empty, at least. Marissa and her little underling, Ashlee, were sitting on top of their desks, leaning back. They were apparently waiting for the arrival of our teacher. Very impatiently.

I rolled my eyes and plopped my books down on my desk with a bang. Mason sat down a little more smooth than I did and smiled at me. He had that amused glint in his eyes and his lips might have well been oozing sarcasm from between the taut line.

I gave him a tight smile as I opened my notebook and scribbled circles on the lines. Mason rolled his eyes.

About thirty minutes passed of our Literature class. Everyone was present in the class, although everyone was out of their seat. The teacher still hadn't shown up yet. I started chewing on the eraser on my pencil, silently praying to God that we wouldn't have a substitute. I was also hoping he didn't show up.

After five more minutes, he decided to grace us with his presence and an adorable smile. My breath caught and I swallowed a few times before I could get my breathing back to normal. I leaned back in my seat as Mason turned to me with a wink. He would be keeping a close eye on me during the whole class.

Another thing I noticed was he was carrying a huge bag of Skittles. It was one of those bags that weighed about a pound. I smiled a little bit. Skittles were my favourite candy.

Marissa flipped her hair back and raised her head. The teacher was within reaching distance for her, which was not good. “Why did you bring the Skittles?”

Mr. Haner swung his arm at her head and the Skittles bag collided with her head. She automatically flinched and held the back of her head.

“Oww, that huuurts,” she whined in a high-pitched voice that nearly made me cover my ears.

Mr. Haner rolled his eyes and set the bag in his other hand. “Oh, whatever. I barely even touched you. Do you want Skittles, or not?”

“Yes,” she whined, rubbing her head consolingly.

We roared with laughter as he opened the bag of Skittles, exposing a sweet aroma of fruit. He smiled as he poured each person some in the first row, including Marissa. She just sunk down in her chair, mumbling to herself.

When he got to me, I was still writing in my notebook. He briefly cleared his throat emphatically, causing me to jump and flip the front cover closed. Whether I was afraid he would speak to me again, or he just scared me, I don't know.

He poured the Skittles in a small group on my desk and caught my eye afterwards. “Don't I get a 'thank-you' or something?”

“Thanks,” I muttered, shifting my eyes away.

He laughed and shook his head. “Typical writer. Always so quiet and reserved.”

I twitched my head with a look of idiocy and then a small smirk made its way on my lips. What would he know about writers? Nonetheless, he laughed again, this time longer. Then, he moved on to the next person.

I raked my fingers through my light blonde hair and sighed. His perfect laugh was still ringing in my ears. I wouldn't be able to look at him without hearing his laugh. That would be because I thought his laugh was the sweetest sound, and he thought we were a funny and amusing class to teach. I could agree with the latter.

I couldn't pay attention during the last fifteen minutes. My mind would drift and return with a sharp buzz. It ran in a cycle like that for awhile. Mason kept tapping my earlobe with his pencil. Mason likes my earlobes. He was trying to get details out of my like a gossiping school girl. I kept my mouth shut to avoid any smart ass comment from our sinister, yet adorable teacher.

During the last five minutes, he told us he had A.D.D., and he said to watch out for anything that fit into that category. That brought on a fit of snickers, and to that he flipped us off. We smirked at him as he landed noisily in his chair to watch us with sharp eyes. We all got up and roamed around.

I stayed in my seat as Mason got up to lean against my desk. I was still a little jittery. “Aw, love, he likes you.”

“He acknowledged me,” I corrected him with a sharp tone.

“Did you see his eyes? Damn, I'd give anything to-” Mason started, going off in a dreamy gaze, but I cut him off.

“Please don't finish that. I don't want to hear any of your fantasies. I have enough of my own,” I muttered the last part under my breath in a low tone.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Mason asked in a sugary tone, smiling.

“Nothing,” I reassured him quickly, placing my face on my notebook.

He hummed to himself as he stood up straight. I glanced at the wall clock knowingly; we had about a minute left of class.

“Hey, bring with you to class tomorrow a movie idea that you would like to watch. Remember, it's about Literature. I'm sure some of you couldn't possibly screw the homework assignment up, but I have no hope for some of you,” he told us as we walked out of the door. Our laughs could be heard from across the school.

I laughed quietly to myself as I walked passed his desk. He gave me a sweet crooked smile as I walked by him. I smiled back in a smug way, which left him puzzled. That was exactly what I wanted him to be.

**

“New message! New message!” Mason shrieked, skipping around my maroon coloured room, clapping like a small child.

“I have a new message, I know! Little freak,” I threw the insult at him in a breathy tone, as if I had just run three miles in a sprint.

“Oooh, I wanna know what it says!” Mason clapped his hands again and did a small squeal.

I raised my eyebrows in an incredulous look as I quickly read the message, with Mason resting his chin on my shoulder.

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brian ((rockstar))

dont worry, youll figure out myspace sooner or later. ;) so where you from? im from the amazing state of california. i live in kansas now though. very flat land.

To: Brian ((rocker))
From: ~*~Lily-bear~*~

i'm from the amazing city of chicago. it's such a pretty city. :) i'm in kansas right now, tho. close to leawood. visiting with my little niece.

I bit my lip. I lied, but then again, It's Myspace. The origin of lies.

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brian ((rockstar))

thats cool. i love the city of chicago. kansas, huh? theres a party one of my friends is throwing close there. do you want to go?

My eyes nearly bulged out of my sockets. Lying may be like making up your own fictional life, but when it comes back around, it's not fun anymore.

To: Brian ((rockstar))
From: ~*~Lily-bear~*~

sorry, i have to babysit my niece. i'd love to go, really, but i'm sort of tied up. thanks for the invite, tho. :)

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brian ((rockstar))

ok. too bad for the babysitting, tho its a nice thing. i really don't do this but, you seem pretty chill. my cell is 913-556-5891. you can call anytime definitely need a distraction from work sometimes, you kno?

“He gave you his CELL?” Mason screamed in my ear, making me jump a few inches. “Oh, my gosh! This is like, so awesome!”

“Ow,” I murmured, rubbing my ear. “No more Full Throttle for you.”

“You have his number! We totally have to call him now,” Mason concluded, grinning.

I shook my head incessantly as he kept up his persistent asking. He followed me around the room, tugging on my arms and whimpering. He gaze up at me with the soulful, puppy eyes. I looked away trying to ignore them.

“Please? Please, please?” Mason begged, hugging my life away.

“Alright, fine! Go get my cell phone,” I mumbled, completely regretting my decision to give in.

Mason ran off to the living room to grab my cell phone off the end table. He collapsed back on my rug within seconds. He caught his breath and started to dial the number. I could hear the ringing from a few feet away. It was probably just my ear, though.

Well, shit.