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She sits there, not fitting-in in the least. If she could help it, she would walk straight past him. But she can’t. her heart stops and her step falters.
I hate it when I walk in somewhere and I don’t belong. I didn’t want to be there. I think Devon made me go. Her friends were there and she had a load of fun. I sat down… near the tubas. Cause it was Whittney and Sam and Chelsea. I didn’t really watch the game. I played on my cell. I kinda talked to Whittney and Sam. I leaned back on the bleachers, on my sweater, looking like a Goth… for all it was worth.
I tried to ignore the boy sitting in row 1, seat 1. No. Not sitting. Lounging. Ignore the spiky blonde hair. Ignore the light blue jeans he’d worn all day… faded almost to the color of his eyes. Ignore the navy blue hoodie with the cheesy saying.
He kept vacillating between the bleachers and the drums. Kept his hands tucked deep into his pockets like he was cold. Was he? It doesn’t matter. Ignore him. Listen to Whittney and Kevin and the banter. Look. A game is going. Where’s a deck of cards?
I hate it when he feels like he has to talk to me. Has to make me crack a smile. I didn’t want to smile. He walks up for the fifteenth time. Eye contact. dammit He reacts with a joke. Takes it back, as I seem afraid. I’m not! Come back!!! or maybe I am. dammit. Please come back.
I hate homecoming. I am not peppy red and gold.
I hate it when I walk in somewhere and I don’t belong. I didn’t want to be there. I think Devon made me go. Her friends were there and she had a load of fun. I sat down… near the tubas. Cause it was Whittney and Sam and Chelsea. I didn’t really watch the game. I played on my cell. I kinda talked to Whittney and Sam. I leaned back on the bleachers, on my sweater, looking like a Goth… for all it was worth.
I tried to ignore the boy sitting in row 1, seat 1. No. Not sitting. Lounging. Ignore the spiky blonde hair. Ignore the light blue jeans he’d worn all day… faded almost to the color of his eyes. Ignore the navy blue hoodie with the cheesy saying.
He kept vacillating between the bleachers and the drums. Kept his hands tucked deep into his pockets like he was cold. Was he? It doesn’t matter. Ignore him. Listen to Whittney and Kevin and the banter. Look. A game is going. Where’s a deck of cards?
I hate it when he feels like he has to talk to me. Has to make me crack a smile. I didn’t want to smile. He walks up for the fifteenth time. Eye contact. dammit He reacts with a joke. Takes it back, as I seem afraid. I’m not! Come back!!! or maybe I am. dammit. Please come back.
I hate homecoming. I am not peppy red and gold.
