Smile, Bitch. Stand Up and Smile.
Chapter no.7
Frank’s POV
I was staring at her wobbly-nice-cute writing, which I wished I had so bad! I liked her, I really did. I mean, she looked so pretty: black eyes, faded-blonde hair, and tall, slim and had this original style which made me fall out of my chair. Plus, she smelled pretty. You know what they say: ‘Girls are weird, but they smell pretty.’
Very pretty. I took one more look at her, and then she giggled, but she pointed again to the paper. I nodded, and she smiled. Shay pointed to something in my back, as I felt something hot touch my shirt and I felt watched. Oh God, not Morgan again. Mind you, but I can’t stand her. She just hates everyone and we all hate her.
I wonder who is in my class right now, anyways. Oh. So, there’s Gerard, Ray and Sty. That’s okay. Oh, and also here’s Val, Key and Martha. There’s 6 I counted by now, and we’re all 26 besides me and my little Shay, who gave me a funny look, but I took out an old, posh, look and mimed I’m smoking.
“What are you smoking, Mr. Iero? Is it good, from other country perhaps? Mind you, we just need some cigarettes – right, everyone?” Morgan made my life a misery. Oh, how I hate this woman.
Ah, and what should I say now? I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate and hate her! Won’t she just go to Hell and leave us, the normal people, alone? Because I’m sick of her and I’m pretty sick of this dream. Of course, not until I actually meet Sheila, fuck her, be with her and change my future – that’s another part.
Actually, I wish I had these dreams everyday. I love dreams. I love dreams in this dream, and also love dreams in the dreams of the dreams of the dreams I have, if you dig me. I like a good dream, that is it! I only like good dreams, because the other ones suck. – My usual bad dreams are about me, some kind of strange wobbly stairs and my friends who are not trying to save me. You see, I walk on the stairs and I always fall down.
Freaky, freaky, I know.
“So, Mr. Iero, you still didn’t answer my question.” I blushed nervously. “However, I have another question for you.” She added.
I wanted to slap her right this minute, but she was a teacher and anyway it was my fault I didn’t learn. I know. I’m a goody-shoes boy. And I’m a boy. Seriously not a man, because men actually don’t have to receive small stuff written by girls they like, they give them a look and she’s all theirs. I guess I’m just a small pansy, am I? Well, girls like me a little anyway.
Even if I didn’t have that much girlfriends. I remember Vita and Emma, and I think I know something about a Cecile and an Ophelia too. Of course, we broke up because I’m too much of a flirt. Girls and boys, come here for the ‘Ieronator!’ Yeah… well, don’t mind me. Oh, and I think my little Shay likes flirting, too. We’ll be a perfect couple someday… like those Hollywood posh couples, y’know?
I was staring at her wobbly-nice-cute writing, which I wished I had so bad! I liked her, I really did. I mean, she looked so pretty: black eyes, faded-blonde hair, and tall, slim and had this original style which made me fall out of my chair. Plus, she smelled pretty. You know what they say: ‘Girls are weird, but they smell pretty.’
Very pretty. I took one more look at her, and then she giggled, but she pointed again to the paper. I nodded, and she smiled. Shay pointed to something in my back, as I felt something hot touch my shirt and I felt watched. Oh God, not Morgan again. Mind you, but I can’t stand her. She just hates everyone and we all hate her.
I wonder who is in my class right now, anyways. Oh. So, there’s Gerard, Ray and Sty. That’s okay. Oh, and also here’s Val, Key and Martha. There’s 6 I counted by now, and we’re all 26 besides me and my little Shay, who gave me a funny look, but I took out an old, posh, look and mimed I’m smoking.
“What are you smoking, Mr. Iero? Is it good, from other country perhaps? Mind you, we just need some cigarettes – right, everyone?” Morgan made my life a misery. Oh, how I hate this woman.
Ah, and what should I say now? I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate and hate her! Won’t she just go to Hell and leave us, the normal people, alone? Because I’m sick of her and I’m pretty sick of this dream. Of course, not until I actually meet Sheila, fuck her, be with her and change my future – that’s another part.
Actually, I wish I had these dreams everyday. I love dreams. I love dreams in this dream, and also love dreams in the dreams of the dreams of the dreams I have, if you dig me. I like a good dream, that is it! I only like good dreams, because the other ones suck. – My usual bad dreams are about me, some kind of strange wobbly stairs and my friends who are not trying to save me. You see, I walk on the stairs and I always fall down.
Freaky, freaky, I know.
“So, Mr. Iero, you still didn’t answer my question.” I blushed nervously. “However, I have another question for you.” She added.
I wanted to slap her right this minute, but she was a teacher and anyway it was my fault I didn’t learn. I know. I’m a goody-shoes boy. And I’m a boy. Seriously not a man, because men actually don’t have to receive small stuff written by girls they like, they give them a look and she’s all theirs. I guess I’m just a small pansy, am I? Well, girls like me a little anyway.
Even if I didn’t have that much girlfriends. I remember Vita and Emma, and I think I know something about a Cecile and an Ophelia too. Of course, we broke up because I’m too much of a flirt. Girls and boys, come here for the ‘Ieronator!’ Yeah… well, don’t mind me. Oh, and I think my little Shay likes flirting, too. We’ll be a perfect couple someday… like those Hollywood posh couples, y’know?