Would You Mind If I Sat Next To You and Watched You Smile?
Pete Was Already Dying To Get Out
It was only twelve thirty on the first day of senior year and Pete Wentz had been to the principle’s office twice. The first time was concerning his schedule because he swore he signed up for creative writing as his elective, and not art. The second was about what days he preferred to go to guidance, because even after a whole summer of boot camp his mother thought he needed a mentor that could keep an eye on him in school. Mondays and Wednesdays were going to be that much better.
He was already fuming in frustration and anger, so when the lunch lady behind the counter put a runny pile of mash potatoes on his plate his hands were shaking. He clearly asked for tater-tots, not lumpy, white glue.
“Move dipshit,” the kid behind Pete ordered, knocking into him. He only stumbled a little, able to keep his tray from spilling on himself. So much for complaining and demanding those smiley faced tater-tots.
When he left the line with more food that he would probably throw up later, Pete inwardly groaned. “Patrick, really?” he mumbled to himself. “This is the third year you’ve changed our table.”
He eventually spotted Patrick Stump in the corner sitting at one of the circular tables. “James and his friends took the table we had last year,” the junior said. It was probably the only thing he would say all year, so Pete responded nicely, telling him he picked a good spot.
Patrick pulled a brown paper bag out of his backpack, and he placed the bag back by his feet. For as long as Pete’s known him Patrick’s always brought his lunch to school, every single day. From the start of Patrick’s freshman year where he was tagged as the new band geek until now, Pete had sat with him.
The paper bag had his name written across the bottom like he was still in elementary school, and he might confuse his lunch with someone else’s. Since today was the first day of school, Patrick’s mom was generous enough to give him four chocolate chip cookies, which were neatly lined up in a little plastic bag. When Patrick started gaining wait in the middle of his sophomore year, his mom stopped with the sweets, and laid down more fruits and veggies. Pete had always been observant. After the cookies came some carrots, a juice box, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; a typical lunch made by Mrs. Stump.
Pete sighed, and looked back at his lunch. He managed to take nine bites out of something green, but gave up and pushed the tray away. He pulled out his red notebook and pen, writing down some random thoughts and one-liners he thought sounded cool.
This was lunch and would be lunch for the rest of the school year, but Pete was already dying to get out.
He was already fuming in frustration and anger, so when the lunch lady behind the counter put a runny pile of mash potatoes on his plate his hands were shaking. He clearly asked for tater-tots, not lumpy, white glue.
“Move dipshit,” the kid behind Pete ordered, knocking into him. He only stumbled a little, able to keep his tray from spilling on himself. So much for complaining and demanding those smiley faced tater-tots.
When he left the line with more food that he would probably throw up later, Pete inwardly groaned. “Patrick, really?” he mumbled to himself. “This is the third year you’ve changed our table.”
He eventually spotted Patrick Stump in the corner sitting at one of the circular tables. “James and his friends took the table we had last year,” the junior said. It was probably the only thing he would say all year, so Pete responded nicely, telling him he picked a good spot.
Patrick pulled a brown paper bag out of his backpack, and he placed the bag back by his feet. For as long as Pete’s known him Patrick’s always brought his lunch to school, every single day. From the start of Patrick’s freshman year where he was tagged as the new band geek until now, Pete had sat with him.
The paper bag had his name written across the bottom like he was still in elementary school, and he might confuse his lunch with someone else’s. Since today was the first day of school, Patrick’s mom was generous enough to give him four chocolate chip cookies, which were neatly lined up in a little plastic bag. When Patrick started gaining wait in the middle of his sophomore year, his mom stopped with the sweets, and laid down more fruits and veggies. Pete had always been observant. After the cookies came some carrots, a juice box, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; a typical lunch made by Mrs. Stump.
Pete sighed, and looked back at his lunch. He managed to take nine bites out of something green, but gave up and pushed the tray away. He pulled out his red notebook and pen, writing down some random thoughts and one-liners he thought sounded cool.
This was lunch and would be lunch for the rest of the school year, but Pete was already dying to get out.
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Hey everybody! This is my first Peterick, so I'm really nervous about writing it. I have no idea if it'll be good or not, but I can only hope. Comments would be nice :) If you catch any mistakes please tell me so I can fix it.Basically I'm going to write this so it only takes place during lunch, which yeah leaves room for not many mistakes but it's going to be pretty hard. So if you could please give this a chance it would be greatly appreciated.
Oh, and by the way Fall Out Boy doesn't exists in this so it won't follow their timeline or whatever…in case you were wondering. And their age difference won't be the same as it is in real life - clearly you noticed if you paid attention. Joe and Andy will make some appearances, don't worry! I love them just as much as the other two :)