The Nerd Boy

All this time, I was beginning to believe that Francis and I were getting along just fine. I know it hadn't been long, not even more than two weeks since I met him. I was fooled into believing that we could eventually become friends through this. He told me that he doesn't care whether I'm a geek or not and then goes and says that.

 Francis really doesn't seem to take into account of what I must be feeling. So why am I so hooked up on this? Why do I need Francis's friendship in the first place, why do I care about it? Kennedy's plan wouldn't stay out of my head and maybe that was the first stage I had to pass to get anywhere inside Francis's life.

I know I shouldn't care this much about whether we're friends or not. It's such a trivial thing. I can't help it, the thought that he thinks that being friends with me is that bad makes me sick to my stomach. 

I was angry, I could have spewed any nonsense to say what I really thought about him. His actions and the way he dealt with people was something I looked down upon. I could have said horrible things and went along with the fact that yes, we weren't friends. We never could be.

After I lied and actually agreed with him, I had lost the ability and the will to speak. It was like my voice had been stolen from me. All I could do was stare at him, my eyes narrowing and a snarl appearing on my lips. 

I don't care and I really shouldn't even think about it right now. 

Francis didn't say anything either, it was quiet on both sides. He had a thoughtful expression on his face before deciding to actually speak his mind. "Yeah, we aren't." 

I really couldn't deal with someone like him right now, he was so inconsiderate of what I must be feeling. Friendship matters to me a lot and to be told that a person never wanted to become friends with me at all, that just broke me. I shouldn't have taken it so seriously, but I couldn't think straight. All that was on my mind was the thought that Francis Darson actually hated me, what other reason would he have to be this way?

"Fine then," I looked down at the floor, avoiding his gaze, "I guess you really do hate me after all." 

I didn't give him a chance to answer, I didn't even look at him to see how he reacted to this sentence, I was out of the door before the words could even slip out of his mouth. 

He didn't deny it, maybe he does hate me after all.



"You're looking too much into it, Oscar," Kennedy told me as he sat on the swing opposite me. 

I called Kennedy after I left the school, I really was in need to talk to someone and Kennedy would always be there for me. He had this special way of cheering me up without even knowing it. 

My hands grasped the chains on the swing as I looked ahead thinking about what happened earlier today. 

"He probably does hate me. Why would a popular person like him ever want to become friends with someone like me?" I asked, it wasn't really directed at Kennedy. 

Kennedy, who had been swinging up and down so far, stopped the swing abruptly before jumping off and blocking my view in front of me. He had his hands on his hips, as he leaned forward to ruffle my hair. I screwed my eyes shut, I really hated it when he did that. 

"Have you forgotten the original masterpiece plan that I had to begin with?" he laughed at me, "You've become so obsessed with being friends with Francis that my plan has completely disappeared from your mind." 

I shrugged. "But isn't that the first step to even getting him to trust me. If he won't open up to me then how the heck am I supposed to dig up the dirt in the first place?"

Kennedy went silent, looking lost for words. He bit his lip, before sighing.

"You have a very good point there Mr. Gordon, very good point indeed." 

I raised an eyebrow at him, questioning the strange and very rubbish posh English voice he had tried to do. Kennedy sucked at imitations, he shouldn't even bother. Although, it was funny, it did leave a smile on my face. I guess that was what Kennedy wanted to see to begin with. 

He smirked at me before his expression died and became a little more worried. "If you do eventually become friends with him, don't forget about me, alright?"

Kennedy shouldn't even need to say that, he's at the top of my list, he is my best friend after all. No one could replace that spot, definitely not. Although, it was fun to mess about with his head a little, he sometimes could take things way too seriously. 

I stared at him quizzically, "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

The response I received from him was a punch on the arm that really hurt, surprisingly. He pouted at me before grabbing me into a suffocating bear hug. "You're mine, I tell you. MY BEST FRIEND, GOT IT." 

I couldn't help but laugh at his crazy ways, Kennedy had nothing to fear. He let go of me and for once in his life I saw an expression on his face that I really didn't recognize. He looked serious. 

"Oscar, there's something I need to tell you," he started. 

Before he could continue, my phone vibrated in my pocket as I took it out and looked at it. Apparently, according to my sister Emma, it was my turn to cook and I should be back by now. I groaned, hating the fact that my Dad couldn't cook to save his life. Why was I such an experienced chef? 

I gave Kennedy an apologetic look as I stood up. "Sorry, Kennedy. I've got to go now." 

He sighed waving at me to leave, he seemed disappointed. I said goodbye to him and left the park, wondering what exactly he wanted to tell me that was so important to him.