Met You, Period 4

The rest of the school day lingered on, being its boring self. And then, the torture of the day was over. As I take the items out of my locker, Clive stands next to me, going on about the prom.

"So, 4:30 or so, I can come over?" Clive asks as I shut my locker door. We began to exit the school.

"Yeah, that'll give me enough time to do homework."

"Heh, like I believe your really doing homework."

"The valecdictorian spot doesn't get achieved on its own." That's one thing I really wanted - intellectual achievement.

"So, skipping gym helps achieve that, too?" Smartass Clive.

"I don't do it that often."

"Ah, I'm just pushing your buttons. Am I achieving that goal?"

"Haha." I put on my retard face. "Oh, here's my ride." My mum had just pulled up.

"Oh, okay. See ya later, Les." I got in the car.

"See ya, Clivey!"

----

"Huh, what rhymns with suculant juices?" I said out loud. "Oh, this ones going nowhere." I was trying to write a poem especially for Brett. If he were going to read my writing, I wanted him to find out my love for him. It seemed like it would be romantic that way. I started again on something else.

"Hmm...Words seem helpful. Actions more...kind? Kisses to lips...love...in our minds." Hey, this isn't going too bad. I got the start of something here.

"Uhm...such summers pass as loved ones do...what rhymns with do? Ah, leading the way from me to you. Um. More words I can say, but suggested a few. Whatever to say but I love you, oh, Brett, I love you." There! That's it. That is sure to sweep him off his feet. Well, look at that:

"Words seem helpful
Actions more kind
Kisses to lips
Love in our minds

Such summers pass as loved ones do
Leading the way from me to you
More words I can say, but suggested a few
Whatever to say but I love you
Oh, Brett, I love you."

"Perfect!"

*Knock Knock* "Les!" Clive scared the hell outta me, as I crumple the poem and throw it to the side of my desk.

"What was that?" He asked, looking skeptical, sipping from a straw in his Dr. Pepper bottle.

"Ah, nothing."

"Okay then. Whatdya wanna do?" He sat on the edge of my bed.

"Um, anything you wanna do, I guess."

"Wanna go to VideoBarn and get a movie? Wins told me there was some new films we might like."

"Okay then." We both got up and left the room. I grabbed my bag from the living room couch.

"Ah, shite. Left the soder in your room. Hold on." He ran back to my room as I stand at the doorway. I wonder who'll be at VideoBarn. I hope to God Kevin isn't there. He was some rich kid with no brains and in my opinion, no beauty either.

"Let's go." Clive shut the front door, jingling keys in his hands.

"You got your dad's car?" I looked in astonishment.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that."

"So you're going to steal your dad's '77 Vintage Cadillac right from under his nose?" He hopped in the front seat.

"It's not stealing, Les. I believe the term is borrowing. Now get your arse in."

"Whatever. It's your arse that's gonna get whipped, not mine." He drove off, slipping in a mixtape. Oh great, Whitney Houston rare tracks...wait. This is far from Whitney.

"Who is playing, Clive?"

"Suede. They gave me their first demo."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't I get one?"

"Oh." He had one of his epiphany faces on. "This one was supposed to go to you."

"You wanker!"

"Hey, you can have it when we get back to your house. Besides, Brett didn't slip in some love song for you. I checked."

"Shut up, Clive."

"Hey, make your actions kind!" Wait. What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"Uh." He stammered. "It means, we're here. Yayy!" He pulled into a spot and got out of the car.

"Um, I'm going to chat with my man. You can pick the tape, kay?"

"Sure." I said, getting out of the car. He slipped into an Employees Only door while I used the main entrance. New movies, eh. I'll take a look. Hmm...ah, typical teen high schooler movies. I could really go for a classic right about now. How 'bout with, let's say, James Dean in it? But do I want East of Eden or Rebel Without a Cause? Ooh, the Immoralist. Ah, I do like Rebel.

"Always go back to the classics, eh?" I jumped at the voice, turning around to see, none other than, Brett.

"Didn't mean to frighten you love. Just noticed you, thought I'd give you a hello."

"Okay then, hello Brett." I put Rebel back on the shelf.

"You know, when I was little, I always wanted to be James Dean. I sorta still do."

"I'd say I wanted to be Natalie Wood, but she was a bit bitchy in that movie. I favor Frances Farmer." He giggled.

"She's beautiful too. But it's a shame they sent her away."

"Oh, yes, a bit immoral eh?" I replied.

"Yeah, like the tape you picked up."

"What?" He took The Immoralist off the shelf. "Oh." I blushed. What a camp movie to be looking at in front of him.

"I loved it, but I thought it needed a bit more romance between the gay affair. Like, let's say, shagging." I was drawn aback.

"I thought that too." I started to have a huge grin on my face.

"Ah, well, great minds think alike." He touched my hand. It was like electricity running through us. I could feel the affect it had on both of us.

"Oh, Clive just now gave me your demo."

"He just now gave it to you?" He looked surprised. "I gave it to him nearly a month ago." He stared at the ground.

"Well, you sounded great on it." I lifted his chin up. He began to blush and stutter on his words.

"You know, Lesley, -" He began to say, before a door slammed loudly open. It was Winston and Clive in eachother's arms, laughing hysterically. They came lumbering over.

"Hey Les, guess what Wins said when we were making out!" Clive said, or rather, yelled. You see, VideoBarn didn't get that much business and there was currently no other people in the store, now that a woman had left when Brett and I were talking.

"What, Clive?" I was annoyed he had interrupted Brett, and I believe Brett was too, but he now looked amused.

"What's the difference between a park bench and a Richie Dick?" Richie Dick is what Winston called popular kids.

"I dunno."

"A park bench can hold a family of four!" Wins and Clive went back to the Employee Room laughing, while Brett and I laughed at the joke in the video aisle.

"Damn, Clive loves that Winston." Brett said. "You think they took it further?"

"Ah, Clive tells me everything. The most they had was with their shirts off."

"Oh. Our drummer's gay too. Simon. Have you met him?"

"Yeah, once. At Owen's."

"Speaking of Owen, we're going to play their tomorrow. Would you want to come?" He took my hand again, leading us to a small bench nearby at the end of the aisle.

"I'd love to go." I said as we sat.

"Perfect. We'll just be playing the normal stuff." He bashfully turned to face me.

"Have you thought about that offer?"

"Um, yeah. I have something I'd like you to read, but its at home. I'll give it to you at Owen's, okay?

"Oh, great."

"Um, Brett, what were you going to say before they burst out?"

"Oh, I was going to say that, over these past few-"

"What in the hell! Get your arse's out of the Employee Room!" It was the manager coming back from break. I guess he ran in on Clive and Winston. I looked over to see him pulling them by their shirts, then I looked back to see Brett shaking his head.

"We should better go check that out." I said.

"Yeah." We got up and walked over to the scene.

"Am I fired, Mr. Shankly, sir?" Winston worried for his only income.

"No, just go for the rest of the day. And tomorrow we gotta make a...erm...schedule for this whole...umm...affair. So we don't lose customers." Brett and I secretly laughed as Winston gathered his things to leave.

"Well, git. Go away." Mr. Shankly shooed us off. Damn, I didn't get a movie.

"Ah, Les, I'll drive you home, but I should go to my angel's house tonight, alright?"

"Okay." I guess I'll just listen to the demo.

"Brett, you need a ride?" Clive offered.

"Naw, Mat or someone'll pick me up if I phone 'em. Or I'll just walk around."

"Okay. See ya later, then."

"See ya." Brett looked to me. "Till later, love."

----

"Les, clean that horrid room!" My mum said to me after I had gotten home. Ah, my room was looking a little treacherous nowadays.

"Alright, mum." I called. The next hour was spent washing clothes, vaccuming and throwing away all the trash and papers I didn't need. When I was satisfied, I sat at my desk. Where was that poem? I looked about my desk, in the spot I had left it. There was no sign of it. Damn. I must've thrown it away while I was cleaning. And that was a damn good poem too. Ah, nothing I can do now, but lay and listen to the breathtaking cries of Brett. "So slow down, slow down. You're taking me over..."