What Is Life Without a Purpose? What Is Purpose Without Love?

I was already tired of homework for this school year. Even though the only assignments I had been given throughout the week had been to have papers signed and to put covers on my text books. Because even those things are hard when you're as lazy as I am.
So my history book was not covered, and my teacher was just going to have to put up, or shut up. Speaking of whom, was walking around the classroom, grading on wether we had succeeded in her assignment or not.
She was at Austin's desk now, which meant I was next and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to feel a little embarrassed on already not doing my homework.

"Make sure you get that covered, Mr.Ashby." She stated pointedly, checking something on her clipboard before making her way to the next person, leaving me nodding to myself.

"Nice cover."

I looked up, startled, to see Austin smiling, giving me a wink. Even though I knew it meant that he was just showing that he was kidding, it sent the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Yours, too."
I nodded at his book, which had been covered in paper and had already accumulated multiple drawings.
I let my eyes fall back to my desk, my book, my hands; anything to avoid looking at his face, where I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was still watching me.

"So you do talk."

Besides his words, I could hear the smile in his voice, the playfulness. And that was kind of inviting.

"Yeah, I guess so." I shrugged, telling myself mentally not to say anything else, or I'd end up making myself sound stupid. Which was something I often did, and half the reason I hardly talked.

"I hope so." He smiled, turning back to his drawing.

What did that mean? Did he want me to talk? Did he want to talk to me? I don't see why he would, we didn't know each other at all and he wouldn't like me anyway. He didn't seem to roll with my crowd, so to speak. He was...cool? While I was most definitely not. At least, I really don't think so.
Probably the coolest thing about me was the music I listened to, and that was only because it's in my opinion that its good.
But really, that's it. I don't really do anything special; I can't draw, I don't even know about my singing and I wasn't super smart or anything. My grades were average, ranging between 70-90. I could play guitar but its not like I'm some pro.
Probably the thing I'm best at is thinking, and even that, sometimes -most of the time- isn't all that wonderful, either.

That was the last thing he said to me in class. He payed about as much attention as a rock, to whatever our teacher was talking about. All he ever seemed to do was draw, and listen to music- cant blame him there, except for the fact that I had the artistic ability of a 3 year old. But he was really good, I think, anyway. I guess anything better than me would be good.

Sometimes I got the urge to watch over his shoulder, or ask him what his drawings were of what they meant.
But I still had yet to figure him out.
Was he a total jerk? Or was he a sweet heart that just liked to block out the world?
The way he ignored everyone and everything around him gave me a sense of annoyance, but also a sense of freedom. Because half my life's been spent wishing that I could just block out the world, or forgive, forget, and move on; but I never could. And seeing him so...comfortable, almost made me jealous.

I realize I've 'known' the guy for a week and shouldn't worry about not having been able to figure him out, but it really bugged me; I was usually able to pick up on people quite easily, but not Austin.

-&-

"hey gingie-pie"

I rolled my eyes at my iPod screen.

"I always tell you not to call me that," I typed back.

My old... acquaintance, I guess you could call her, Kacey, messaged me, bringing up that completely lame nickname she'd stuck to calling me.
We weren't exactly friends; more like someone to talk to when there was no one else you could stand in a class.
She was weird, I could tell you that; always talking about the world ending and how "revenge would find each of us one day." That wasn't the half of it, though. She was cool, but weird.
Which was okay.
We didn't spend much time talking, it was one of those "hey what's up?" "Not much, you?" "Same here" kind of conversations. Which was also okay. I didn't like talking much online, either. I don't even know why I have a Facebook, to be honest. I don't do anything on it. I spend most of my time on tumblr and twitter, and I'm not even obsessed with either of them anymore.
I just didn't have anything else productive to do.

I set my iPod down, going downstairs to scan my fridge. I did that often, just looking with the fridge door open; not actually looking for anything at all. It was just nice to know my options if I decided I ever wanted something.

"Mom?"

"What honey?"
I slid my socks on the hardwood floor into the living room.

"What are we doing this weekend?"

"I'm going grocery shopping, why?" She looked up at me from her book.

"Could we go to that music store across from the grocery store?"

"I suppose so."

"You can just drop me off if you'd like."

-&-

I haven't been to this store yet, but I always made a point to go to any music store at least every few weeks. And since I'd just moved here, it'd be good to check this one out.
The store was on a strip of small stores; jewelry stores, sandwich bars, clothing stores, all that good stuff.
I pushed my eyes down to my feet as I passed all of the windows, until I felt I was close enough to the door to open it.

It was much bigger looking inside, not surrounded by other doors and windows. Here, the walls could stretch themselves back, and the shelves followed. It was still a small store, but every shelf was packed; CDs, video games and DVDs lining any space they could find.
It was great.
Finding the section that fit my taste, I found that they had all the CDs I wanted-and that I already had.
I'd probably have to start coming here more often, that was for sure.

I picked a cd that I didn't already have; I didn't really know the band but this was how I usually got into them. I would listen to a couple songs, and if I liked those, I'd but their cd. I couldn't force myself to like them any easier way.
I almost laughed to myself there, walking up to the counter.
I couldn't wait to go home and listen to it, every time I got a new cd was like a small Christmas morning to me. It could be compared to reading the next book in your favorite series, I'd say.