Behind the Lines

I chose to ignore the text last night. If I replied back, it would cause too much trouble. He would probably think I want to be friends again, and I do not want to lead him on.

I get up this morning with a whole lot of ruckus coming from downstairs. I completely ignore it and get up to get ready. I pick out my outfit, which consists of jeans, shirt, and a sweatshirt, plus sky blue converse. After that, I go to the bathroom and I do the usual every morning routine and within twenty-five minutes, I am done.

I go back to my room to pack any last minute things I may need then go downstairs to make my breakfast and lunch. Noticing that I am running a bit off schedule, I take a granola bar for breakfast and then go back to my room to get lunch money. I grab a ten and go back downstairs. Everyone else has already left, probably while I was in the bathroom, and now the house is an eerie quiet, only the sound of my breathing and footsteps echoing through the abandoned house. Every since that unfortunate day, everyone left a little early and came late in order to avoid me. I act like I do not mind, but I do. I just wish I had someone by my side, but even my parents do not care about me anymore. They just make sure I do not do anything stupid to make them look any worse in the eyes of all the neighbors.

Sighing at my loneliness and pick up my bag and trudge outside and begin my walk once again. About halfway through my walk, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I take it out and open it to see the Landon has, yet again, texted me. How did he even get my number? Stalker much?

Rolling my eyes, I open the text and read it.

Can I please talk to you at lunch today? ~Landon

As usual, I did not reply back, not wanting to give him the attention he is asking for. He probably would not be talking to me if we did not get paired up for this project. I continue walking and about five minutes later, my phone vibrates again. Groaning, I take it out and read the text.

Please. I am begging you. Just give me five minutes to explain everything. ~Landon

Stupid boy, are you asking for a death wish? Five minutes with me and there will be a knife in your stomach. I cannot even handle being five feet near you, how am I going to talk to you for five minutes? Men, they are so dumb these days. Just as I am about to hit the reply button, I realize what I will be bringing upon myself and ignore again and continue walking. Heh- heh, you thought I would reply. Hah! Proved you wrong, you idiots.

Thinking that was going to be the last of his messages, I am proved wrong and continue to receive messages every two minutes. I know he will not stop until I reply, but I am willing to get annoyed by his constant messaging then talking back to him.

I finally enter the school grounds with a phone full of unread messages, and have only three minutes to spare before class starts. Ugh, drama, you are so cruel to me. What have I ever done to you? I enter the classroom with thirty seconds to spare and take my seat. Most of the class is in their seats, including Landon and the minions who decided to take this class. Mr. Holland still has not showed up, probably running late as usual.

Three minutes later, he shows up, pushing the COW. If you do not know what that is, it stands for “Computer on Wheels,” a.k.a. COW. Yeah, weird, I know.

“Okay class, you will get started on the project today. Each of you will be getting a laptop today to write your scripts. This week you will be working on your projects, but next week we will continue with normal class sessions, therefore, you will have to meet outside of school. I will assign you days when you will work on your projects in class, but other than that, we will be working on other things as well. Okay then, when I call your group name, you will send one person up from your group to collect a computer. We do not have enough for everyone, so you need to share. Any questions so far…? No…? Okay then, the first group is…” he droned on, handing computers to a group member while groups went to different areas of the room to work on. Since this is a drama class, our class is bigger than other classes, since it has a stage on one end and seats you find in theatres for when we perform or practice in front of the class only. It is also used by solo musical artists in the school if they need to practice for a talent show or something.

While Mr. Holland is handing out the laptops, I see Landon coming my way again. I roll my eyes and continue to doodle on the paper I had out while waiting for Mr. Holland to come to class. I feel his presence in the seat next to me when he sits down, as the heat from his body comes over to me. I can also smell his cologne, which is not too strong, but not too light either, just how a man should put it on. Wait, did I just call him a man? Boy, I am going crazy.

“So, should we get started?” he asks, annoyingly tapping his pencil on the desk.

“Landon and Journey, please come and collect your computer,” Mr. Holland shouts out, saving me from talking to Landon. I get out of my desk and head over to the front of the room where the teacher is handing out the laptops. He hands me one and I thank him, slowly turning around and walking back to my table to prolong the time it takes for me to get to my seat, again. Anything to avoid him.

Unfortunately, the walk is too short, and I end up reaching my seat within thirty seconds. It would have taken ten if I walked faster, so I did achieve something!

I gently out the computer on my desk and open it so I can log on using my student ID number and password. The student ID number is only six numbers long, whereas the password is about fifteen characters, and way too annoying! If you mess up, you have to type it all over again, like most password mistakes, but it gets so annoying since it is way too long! Are the teachers in this school trying to give us carpal tunnel? I mean, what happened to those traditional six character passwords we had in elementary school. That was bearable, but seriously, WHS@4sleepyreddogs? That is way too long for my liking, and way too stupid. We are in high school and responsible enough to make our own passwords… at least most of us are.

While the laptop takes its sweet time to log on, I take out the packet Landon handed out yesterday to go over what we had to do. Since we did not brainstorm yesterday, I am guessing that is what Landon and I will do today. Knowing if he talks first, it would probably consist of him begging me to listen to him, and then we would never get any work done. So this time, surprisingly, I start the conversation.

“So, what do you want our play to be about?” I ask him, looking over to see him writing his name on the packet. He is probably surprised I am talking to him and raises his head to look at me with wide eyes.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” I tease him, pretending to find something on my face.

“What? No… you just surprised me, that is all. I didn’t expect you to talk,” he says in a loud whisper. Whoa, oxymoron right there, ha-ha!

“Well, I am not mute if you were wondering, and we do have to talk about this project. I, however, will not talk to you when you want to talk about things other than this project,” I explain, referring to this morning and yesterday.

“Okay, then… well…. Do you have any ideas on the play,” he says, clearing his throat, not sure what to say.

“I asked you first,” I say, knowing I have not even thought about this project.

“Well, I was thinking we could write about…” just as he is about to say what he wanted to write about, the door slams open, grabbing everyone’s attention to the front of the room because of the loud eruption of noise it created.

There, in the front of the room, stands a very tall, buff guy, with brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He seems to look like, if you want to put him in a category a prep. You know the people who wear clothes from Hollister or Abercrombie or Aeropostale. His hair is short and put up in a faux-hawk. He is wearing a white v-neck tee that accentuates his muscles, and would make any girl drool. His jeans are light washed and make his… rear look incredibly delicious. Basically, he is capital H-O-T, hot. And that means a lot coming from me, since I do not check out guys. But even though he is hot, I cannot help but compare him to Landon. I must say, Landon is hotter. Oh my god, what the hell am I saying? Since when do I think Landon Reynolds is hot?

As the guy enters the room further on, he stops by Mr. Holland’s desk and shows him a piece of paper. I do not know what they are saying, but Mr. Holland nods his head, understanding the situation. While this happens, the girls check out the guy and immediately start gossiping and the boys chatter about the new competition. The only ones that remain quiet are Landon and I.

Once Mr. Holland and the new guy stop talking, Mr. Holland steps out of his seat and stands his front of it next to the new guy.

He calls for everyone’s attention, not that he had to since they already had their attention.

“Okay class, today we have a new student joining us. His name is Blaine Peirce. He will tell us a little bit about him, and I will be adding him to one of your groups, so please be prepared to work in a trio. With that said, Blaine, tell us about yourself,” Mr. Holland tells us, giving a pat on Blaine’s shoulder and going back to sit in his seat.

“Okay… my name is Brandon, I am seventeen years old, and I just moved from California. I like to act, sing, and surf and I love old men with toupees,” he answers bluntly, but adding a smirk at the end of the last statement, making it known he was just kidding. Stupid, cocky, arrogant bastard.

Though the other girls do not think so, as they question him about his relationship status, whether he has any brothers, what he sees in a girl, all that bull shit. Attention seeking whores, that is what they are.

“Desperate,” I whisper sing, thinking I was the only one who could hear, but am proven wrong when Landon starts to chuckle at my comment.

“I totally agree,” he says, still chuckling and his eyes sparkling as he looks at me.

“I thought you liked girls who were desperate and easy, seeing as you have a new toy every week,” I retort, smacking the smile off his face and wiping the shine out of his eyes.

This time, though, I kind of feel bad saying what I said. I feel more vulnerable than usual, not seeing that shimmer in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” I say quietly, feeling a little bit of my heart chop off as I said that. So much for pride, I think to myself, as I open up Microsoft Word on the computer.

“It’s okay, I’ll live,” he says, giving a smile. His smile his fake and there is no glimmer in his eyes. I know I hit a soft spot.

“Mr. Pierce, you will be working with Mister Reynolds and Miss Allen. Here is the packet to all your project information. Landon and Journey, please raise your hands,” Mr. Holland hollers out, cutting off our conversation.

We raise our hands in the air and I see Blaine smirk a little my way, before he wipes it off and walks our way. He turns around the desk in front of us, so he can see our faces.

“What’s up?” he asks, casually leaning on his chair, with his muscles behind his head, flexing ever so slightly.

“Nothing much, man, just thinking about some ideas for this stupid project,” Landon replies.

“Cool. Have you come up with anything yet?” Blaine asks.

“Nah, man, I had an idea but that was fit for two people. Doesn’t matter anymore though, we’ll come up with something else. Got any ideas,” Landon says casually to both of us. I kind of wanted to know what his idea was, but did not ask him any further details.

“Um, I was wondering… if we could do a story about a girl who falls in love with this guy… but then he and his brother get drafted for war…. Then the love interest gets killed, and the brother has to put her heart back together. You can tell me if that is a bad idea or not, I will totally understand if you guys hate it. I mean I just came up with it on the spot,” I ramble, waiting for their reactions.

“That… is a brilliant idea,” Blaine says and sends a genuine smile my way, not a cocky smirk. Huh, maybe he does have some charm.

“I agree. Let’s do it,” Landon says, smiling at me, as well, and takes that computer from my desk to start typing. But, that smile was also fake, and not fully recovered. And his eyes, showed a bit of… jealousy?

Nah… I am just being deluded now, why would he be jealous of me? Besides, all Blaine did was, was smile. Nothing major like eye rape.

As the time runs on, Landon keeps on typing, asking for help when needed, like character names or when he has writer’s block. Other than that, Blaine and I chat away while Landon works on our project. I felt bad alienating him, but he is not complaining, so I do not say anything.

When we have a couple minutes remaining, Landon loads that document on his flash drive and gives the computer back to Mr. Holland.

While he is gone, Blaine continues to talk for the minute we have.

“So Journey… would you like to have lunch with me,” Blaine asks, giving another genuine smile.

I know Landon has heard this last comment as he was right behind Blaine and his eyes cloud over with anger. Over what, I do not know.

I simply reply back.

“If you can find me.”

And with those final words, I leave both boys stumped, as I exit the room, with a smile on my face, after a really long time.