The Fan Girl

For the first time...
I felt free,
like no one could touch me,
he was mine,
and I was his fan girl...

but you have to wake up sometimes


3. Under The Football Bleachers

Waiting...something I'm not very good at, considering my 'impatient' personality.

But tell me, would you not get restless sitting in a uncomfortable desk for 10 minutes waiting for a stupid teacher?

Paper is being thrown everywhere, while echoes of laughter and talking fill the room.

I'll never understand other can they be so excited or happy when they are in hell itself?

With these teachers, it's hard not to make a snarky or rude comment. I'm even surprised some of them passed university.

That's why I'm labeled as 'The Mystery Girl'.

No one knows what I'm thinking, or whether I'm gonna say something or not...and that's just the way I like it.

No expectations, no put downs.

Some of these people have known me since kindergarten, but just don't bother to remember...or try not to.

The class instantly settles down causing the room to fall to a level that is almost silence.

This is the usual boring mourning we have for Writing class ;

- teacher greets
- talks about boring stuff
- hands out work

I was about to pull out a pencil from my bag that I had leaned up against the leg of my desk chair, when the teacher stopped me.

"Oh no guys, we won't be needing pencils for your assignment today"

I was almost surprised, no pencils? In 'Writing' class?

"I want you to close your eyes and relax your body"

It's hard to relax your body in these hard ass chairs...but I obey.

"Now I want you to think of something, that makes you...happy"

What are we 6 year-olds? Why don't we just take a nap with our little blankets while we're at it...actually that's not quite a bad idea. He comes to my mind.

"Now I want you to take that thing and pretend to hold it in your hand"

I rolled my eyes...if i could hold him in my hand, I'd be probably the strongest person on earth...and the luckiest.

"Now after graduation...which is unfortunately tomorrow"

I softened at the sadness in his voice, I always like Mr.Trendy, he wasn't half bad as a teacher.

"I want you to write about that thing, in these journals"

He held up a beautiful brown leather notebook in the air, showing it off to the class.

"And maybe, when you have finished...return them back to me"

He smiled. I looked around the class slowly, watching their faces turn from boredom to interest.

Even Trevor...the kid who absolutely hated work...looked, interested.

The bell rang signalling the end of the class.

I slowly got up, watching all the kids grab a journal while exiting.

I hesitantly grabbed a journal walking out with the chain of kids.

I stuffed it into my backpack, planning to think more of it later...I hate thinking at such early time in the mourning.

The mourning went by pretty quick...except for math...I didn't know if that was every gonna end.

{ ~LUNCH~}

This just so happened to be my favourite class of the and you can't fail it!

But since it's so hard to find a good seat in this stupid cafeteria, I eat under the football bleachers.

No talking, no pushing, no whistling, no judging...just peace...and quiet, and sometimes if your lucky, the boys will be out practicing.

I quickly chose a little box of fries and a water, then headed to the bleachers.

I sighed in content as I dropped my bag on the ground and let my body fall onto the little patch of grass.

It's beautiful out...which never really happens a lot, it's usually a little to cold, or a little to hot, but the odd day here and there we'll get a 'not to hot, not to cold' day, for us to enjoy.

I usually just scroll through my Instagram or Twitter while out here on my phone, but my mind keeps going back to the journal Mr.Trendy had given us.

I slowly set down my fries and slid my phone into my pocket while staring at my backpack intently.

Would I actually do the assignment? I mean after graduation they have no control of me...I can do whatever I want...

But the thought of writing about him intrigued me to an incredible extent.

I took out the journal letting my finger carelessly roam it.

I carefully opened it receiving just a blank page. What would I write about him? How would I write about him?

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, as I had an internal argument with myself, which seems to happen a lot. I'm sure everyone has that voice in their head that won't shut the hell up for you to decide.

I finally decided on what I was gonna do...

I'll write in the stupid journal...

I'll write about him...


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