Forgetting You, But Not the Time

[Regular POV]

"Oh, and you have third period with me as well! Gosh, this is going to be sooo exciting!" cooed Trisha; the girl who made my day exceptionally worse than it already was. We first met at my locker after homeroom. She had said that she was assigned to show me around school and get me into the swing of things. By this point, I was starting to think confirming the fact that I was the new kid was a terrible mistake.

"Yeah. Exciting. Right." I mumbled, not quite sure this girl knew the real meaning of the word. Trisha had the most annoying voice that had ever been known to mankind. And that smile of hers; it was horrible. Oh, and I can't for get the laugh... it resembled nails on a chalkboard.

At the moment we were walking down a flight of stairs to where third period was: Calculus; or the dreaded math class of doom, as I liked to call it. I had already been to American History and English Literature; sadly each of them involving Trisha. Maybe I could push her down the stairs and make it look like an accident. Or I could blame it on the innocent black-haired sophomore that was walking beside her.

"Oh! I so have to introduce you to my group!" continued Trisha with an eager expression. I shook my head.

"I don't think that's necessary." I tried reasoning with her. She put a hand up, silencing me.

"Don't be silly! You must, really. And don't worry, they're just like me." She said, as if assuring me that I was actually going to find her friends appealing.

"My point exactly." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I said quickly. She just shrugged and pulled me into a classroom. It looked like every other room I had been in that morning. This school had no class whatsoever. I frowned at their lack of creativity and took a quick seat in the back of the room, not being much of a fan with the front where the teacher's victims sat. Trust me... been there, done that.

"Um, dear?" the woman at the front desk called, looking in my direction. I suppose that's the teacher. I guessed dumbly. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue while showing her she had my undivided attention. "Could you come here for a moment please?" she asked kindly. At least this woman was like any ordinary human being. Now all eyes were on me. Great. Not that I minded, but their gazes were just distracting and aggravating.

With a heavy sigh I stood from my seat and walked towards the front of the room where the teacher sat behind her wooden desk. We exchanged names (hers was Mrs. Westby) and she welcomed me before handing me a few sheets that needed to be signed and whatnot—I had been getting them all day, much to my annoyance—and then quickly dismissed me.

I walked back to my seat next to a guy with a backwards black cap on, a white Operation Ivy t-shirt, black baggy pants and some old black chucks. I sat back down and threw the papers indifferently into my bag before Mrs. Westby stood behind her podium and started the lesson. Like in most of my other classes, I cupped my head in my hands and droned out the teacher's voice, completely ignoring the lesson altogether.

"Mr. Armstrong, get that hat off your head right this minute! How many times do I have to tell you it's against school policy?" Mrs. Westby snapped at the kid next to me, pointing an accusing finger at him with a glare etched on her wrinkled features. "Mr. Armstrong" groaned and mumbled under his breath before pulling his cap off, exposing a head full of blonde streaked hair.

I stared at him for a moment, taking all of his features in. From the way his head was tilted, I got a perfect view of his eyes: green. More washed out than mine, but still green nonetheless. He was cute—no, cute wasn't the right word. Hot? Closer. Sexy? Even closer. Drop dead gorgeous? Possibly. I raised my eyebrows at him, not noticing the dazed look that had fallen over my facial expression.

I quickly shook my head and tore my gaze from him, focusing it for once on the front of the classroom where Mrs. Westby was writing a few complicated problems on the chalkboard.

I frowned at the clock. Was it just me or was this class period going by rather slow? Maybe the clock was broken. I had half a mind to make the teacher aware of the fact that it was 11:33. I thought we were supposed to leave at 11:00 sharp. Or maybe I just needed glasses and was reading the clock wrong. Even though, me and analog clocks didn't exactly mix well. Me, being the lazy bum I am, preferred simple digital clocks where they didn't make you have to count those damn lines to figure out the exact time. What a waste of time!

I found myself glaring daggers at the clock, expecting the bell to ring at any moment. For a moment there, I was hoping that if I glared long and hard enough, actual daggers would start flying towards the damn thing. Maybe the bell's broken. But wouldn't the faculty have fixed it by now? Maybe if I just threw my math book at the clock, time would go by faster...

Then I remembered I had received a schedule that morning; it had the times of when the classes began and ended. I mentally slapped myself for not thinking of it sooner and pulled the folded yellow slip out of my bag. I checked it and it said off to the side that this was an extended period. Why the hell was it an extended period? Why did I have to be in Calculus for an extra 45 minutes? Any class but this one! My glare worsened and I laid my head on my hands that sat on top of my desk.

At 11:45, the bell finally rang and I cursed it inside and out for not ringing sooner. I threw my math book inside my bag (Along with my World History book and my Literature book. Did these teachers want us to break our spines? If so, they were definitely succeeding). Just as I was about to pull my bag over my shoulders, the books and papers toppled out of it since I had forgotten to close it.

"Damnit." I grunted and kneeled down to put it all back. Wasn't this just a fascinating morning (Note the heavy sarcasm)?

I noticed Operation Ivy boy kneel down in front of me and gathered the remaining papers. I looked up at him and smiled slightly. He returned it with a lopsided grin which, for some strange reason, made me feel weak in the knees, and handed me my papers. I tried ignoring the feeling and graciously took the papers from him.

"Thanks." I said, throwing everything back in my bag, not caring how messy it looked. I made sure to close the top this time before slinging it over my shoulder.

"No problem." He said, standing up as well. He was about an inch taller than me, but rather short for a guy. Not that it bothered me; it was just another thing about him that I noticed. I smiled again before walking past him. I didn't expect him to say "Well, here's your crap—oh, you like the Ramones? Sweet, they rock" or something like that, but I was hoping he'd at least build a decent conversation with me so I wouldn't have to deal with Trisha who seemed to be waiting for me by the door.

Luckily, someone else saved me from the pain and began talking to her. I squeezed through the doorway and sprinted down the hallway before she spotted me. Making sure I was out of sight and earshot from her, I took out my schedule and glanced at it. Lunch time. Hey, it was better than education.

I found my way to the cafeteria where tons of students ranging from freshman's to senior's fled to multiple lines where different types of foods were being served. Some of them had brought their own lunch and were already chatting animatedly with their friends at tables that were scattered about the cafeteria.

I sighed and plopped myself down at a vacant table, not feeling very hungry and not trusting the cafeteria food anyways. No matter what, all school food sucked. It didn't matter what school it was or where it was located. I had gotten food poisoning once from the food that was served at Hercules in freshman year and I didn't plan on going down that road again. Hospitals weren't exactly my definition of "fun".

Without warning, someone pulled up a chair and sat down beside me. I looked over to see the Operation Ivy dude sitting backwards in a chair (Me: You know, when you're facing the back of the chair with one leg on each side?) and had his cap on again. He looked over at me and grinned. Was he even capable of smiling? Not that I really cared, but it was starting to annoy.

"Hey?" I half said, half asked. Why in the world was he sitting here of all places?

"Hey yourself." He returned. "Why're you sitting all by yourself over here?" he asked.

"Oh yes, because my mere 4-hour-presence at this school has attracted so many spectators." I replied sarcastically. He smirked.

"Why not?" He asked with a shrug. I surely hope that wasn't meant to be a compliment. I rolled my eyes, though smiled weakly at him. "So what's your name?" he asked me, interested.

"Spencer Monroe. Yours?" I asked, shaking his hand.

"Billie Joe Armstrong. Call me Billie." he said. I nodded. "So, what brings you here?" Billie asked out of curiosity.

"My selfish, bitchy step-mom." I answered. He chuckled.

"Fair enough. Where'd you move from?"

"Hercules."

"That isn't far. Why'd you move here?" inquired Billie.

"Because my step-mom's a selfish bitch." I repeated. That smirk of his returned.

"So I've heard." There was a pause before two others joined the table; two guys that had no familiarity to me whatsoever. One of them had blonde hair, fairly similar to Billie's while the other one had dark brown hair (Me: I have no idea what color John's hair was, so I'm just making it up. And Tre obviously hasn't joined Mike and Billie yet, but he will soon, I swear!). The blonde haired guy was fairly tall with a slim figure, but not as petite as Billie was. The dark haired one looked fairly normal, maybe slightly over weight but not to the point where it was unappealing (Me: And I have no clue what John looked like either, so once again I'm using my imagination here).

"Hey Beej, who's the chick?" asked the dark haired one. The blonde slapped the brunette's arm and he let out an 'umph' in reaction to it.

"That was just rude, John." The blonde stated. Okay, so the brunette's name was John. The blonde looked over at me and held out his hand.

"I'm Mike, that's John." He said. I nodded to both of them and shook their hands.

"Spencer." I said. A few giggles were heard from behind me and I turned to see a blonde chick walking past our table, winking and waving at Billie who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the attention. He nodded his head in her direction and I could already see the deep crimson flushing her cheeks. Billie's gaze traveled up and down her body and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously. It went away as quickly as it came, though, and I shrugged it off.

"So, Beej, we still going to the game tonight?" Mike asked while John devoured a muffin. Poor muffin. Billie must've noticed that as well because he raised an eyebrow at the brunette before snapping his stare back to Mike and nodded.

"Yeah. You can still go, right?" Billie checked. Mike nodded.

"Yeah, mom's working late tonight so it won't matter." Mike told. Billie nodded, indicating that he heard him but he kept his eyes on John who was now poking the center of the muffin. I as well was wondering what in God's name he was doing but I didn't question the guy; quite frankly, I was worried of what the answer would be. John stared at the remains of the destroyed muffin before stuffing the rest into his mouth. He looked up and Billie and I immediately looked away. I felt comfortable around them already.

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna come with us?" Billie randomly asked. I turned my head towards him and threw a confused glance towards him. "To the baseball game tonight, wanna come?" he repeated. I shrugged.

"Um... I guess?" Billie laughed.

"Don't worry; we're not going to rape you or anything." He said, grinning like a fool. I laughed nervously.

"Yeah, sure, I'll go." I answered before thinking. I didn't know what dad was going to say and I was sure as hell Reese would say no without a second thought.

"Cool. So, you want me to pick you up?" Billie asked. Shit, dad wouldn't like that.

"I—well—uh—"

"Your dad would threaten to castrate me, right?" Billie wondered with a knowing smirk and raised eyebrows. I nodded slowly.

"Yeah, he's not too comfortable with me riding with guys... especially guys I just met—"

"Don't worry about it, it's cool. Just meet us here at 5:30." He said, waving my comment off. I nodded.

Wow, I had only been at that school a few hours and I already had plans for that night. Something told me this was going to be a fun night and, by the way these guys act, a rather amusing night at that.

Preview for Chapter Four:
We walked side by side down my porch and across my lawn to be met up with a rather old looking Trans Am. The paint was faded, but it looked like it used to be a light blue of some sort. Inside it sat Mike and John along with two other girls that were nearly in their laps. I raised my eyebrows upon seeing them. I had no idea others were coming. I shrugged it off and Billie walked to the passenger side where he opened my door. I smiled once again.

"Thanks." I said. He nodded.

"No problem." I heard Mike sniggering in the back and once Billie got in the driver's seat, he hit him upside the head.