Status: Completed
Psyche
7
Jean is good with words. It’s why he mostly writes the songs in his band. It’s also why he’s terrible at math, and has to take algebra II again.
It’s the second class Jamie has with Jean. Jamie so conveniently sits behind him and sees nothing but the back of his short, curly hair, and the way the bones in his shoulders and back poke out of the thin shirts he wears. Jamie never stares too long, or else Jean might catch him or someone will know notice and crack a queer joke.
They talk when Jean needs help on a problem. Jamie doesn’t complain. He goes along with it because he likes the tight feeling he gets in his guts from feeling useful and having Jean pay attention to him. And the fact that Jean asks him, not the other girl who sits beside Jamie who is smarter (though she smells like urine sometimes).
Today is one of those days.
“Can you help me?” Jean’s body turns around in a normal routine, just in time to catch Jamie gazing at the ceiling in a daydream.
Jean smiles and says, “Jamie.” He almost laughs at how Jamie sputters back down, eyes wide, and he looks like a little kid.
“Do you understand this?” Jean points to a problem and Jamie explains it in simpler terms how to solve it.
By the time Jean is on the eighth problem, he loses interests and decides to save it for later. He looks over his shoulder at Jamie, and notices the somber-colored band shirt he’s wearing. The Duke Spirit is written in cursive, gold metallic words sprayed over a pirate ship that’s sinking.
Jamie wears the most interesting band tees.
“You like them?” Jean asks, and it takes Jamie a while to understand what he’s talking about.
“Oh, yeah. I love them.”
“They’re cool. Have you got their new album?” When Jamie tells him he doesn’t, Jean goes on to say, “We have it at RecordSide, some vinyl and physical copies. You should get it. I can even wrap it up for you.”
“. . . Why?” he asks. Jean can see his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, his body sliding down into his seat.
“’Cause I work there.”
“Oh.” Jamie laughs faintly, sounding too gawky and repressed.
It’s weird hearing him laugh at all, and Jean is thinking about telling Jamie he should do it more often; it makes him look less tense. But he’d probably take it the wrong way and start fidgeting more, so he doesn’t.
“So you and Alexandria are best friends now?” Jean asks.
“I guess. Kind of?”
“She just got here two weeks ago and you two are acting like those Disney Channel-type best friends.”
“Not really. We’re the Nickelodeon kind.”
There’s a moment of open silence where Jean just gapes at Jamie before bursting out laughing, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.
“Of course. You two should come to RecordSide sometime, and I’ll see what I can get for you,” Jean tells him.
Jamie’s mouth moves as if he wants to say something but the words aren’t coming to him. When he is able to speak, when he says sure, Jean grins and then turns back around in his seat.
Jamie gazes at the back of Jean’s head, squeezing tightly the pencil he forgot he was even holding.
It’s the second class Jamie has with Jean. Jamie so conveniently sits behind him and sees nothing but the back of his short, curly hair, and the way the bones in his shoulders and back poke out of the thin shirts he wears. Jamie never stares too long, or else Jean might catch him or someone will know notice and crack a queer joke.
They talk when Jean needs help on a problem. Jamie doesn’t complain. He goes along with it because he likes the tight feeling he gets in his guts from feeling useful and having Jean pay attention to him. And the fact that Jean asks him, not the other girl who sits beside Jamie who is smarter (though she smells like urine sometimes).
Today is one of those days.
“Can you help me?” Jean’s body turns around in a normal routine, just in time to catch Jamie gazing at the ceiling in a daydream.
Jean smiles and says, “Jamie.” He almost laughs at how Jamie sputters back down, eyes wide, and he looks like a little kid.
“Do you understand this?” Jean points to a problem and Jamie explains it in simpler terms how to solve it.
By the time Jean is on the eighth problem, he loses interests and decides to save it for later. He looks over his shoulder at Jamie, and notices the somber-colored band shirt he’s wearing. The Duke Spirit is written in cursive, gold metallic words sprayed over a pirate ship that’s sinking.
Jamie wears the most interesting band tees.
“You like them?” Jean asks, and it takes Jamie a while to understand what he’s talking about.
“Oh, yeah. I love them.”
“They’re cool. Have you got their new album?” When Jamie tells him he doesn’t, Jean goes on to say, “We have it at RecordSide, some vinyl and physical copies. You should get it. I can even wrap it up for you.”
“. . . Why?” he asks. Jean can see his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, his body sliding down into his seat.
“’Cause I work there.”
“Oh.” Jamie laughs faintly, sounding too gawky and repressed.
It’s weird hearing him laugh at all, and Jean is thinking about telling Jamie he should do it more often; it makes him look less tense. But he’d probably take it the wrong way and start fidgeting more, so he doesn’t.
“So you and Alexandria are best friends now?” Jean asks.
“I guess. Kind of?”
“She just got here two weeks ago and you two are acting like those Disney Channel-type best friends.”
“Not really. We’re the Nickelodeon kind.”
There’s a moment of open silence where Jean just gapes at Jamie before bursting out laughing, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.
“Of course. You two should come to RecordSide sometime, and I’ll see what I can get for you,” Jean tells him.
Jamie’s mouth moves as if he wants to say something but the words aren’t coming to him. When he is able to speak, when he says sure, Jean grins and then turns back around in his seat.
Jamie gazes at the back of Jean’s head, squeezing tightly the pencil he forgot he was even holding.
♠ ♠ ♠
I love anyone who's bothered to read this ♥