Part 10 of the truthPart 10: Together We Were Lucky
Jake sat by me in American history for about a month, and in that short time I got hooked and learned all that I could. About Jake, of course, I learned very little about history that month.
Jake's grandfather had died recently, and I could tell he was trying hard to be the callous teenage boy stereotype the world expected him to be, but he just couldn't do it. The facade never fooled me, too much genuine pain showed through. He showed me the pamphlet from the funeral, telling me I probably thought he was weird for carrying it around. He wore his grandfather's shirts on occasion, even though they didn't usually fit his wiry teenage frame. He got the same almost sad look whenever he talked about him. Even when he fake laughed through the parts that hurt the most.
Among many other things I'm probably forgetting right now I learned that Jake was a skateboarder, loved ketchup, was not a supporter of the current liberal presidential candidate, had a wart on h
Part 9 of the TruthPart 9: Curiosity Kills
The who-would-ya-do game was one of Jake's favorite forms of torture first trimester, freshman year.
Looking back on shit maybe I sealed my own fate.
Jake asked me a lot of questions the first week he sat next to me. Among them was the hushed and hopeful, "Do you have a dirty mind?"
Wellllll. . . I couldn't lie to Dreamy. Really, I physically could not. So I nodded, it didn't seem like a bad decision at the time. . .
"Yay." It was a small yay, devoid of real excitement, so, it was a Jake yay.
I think I regret that reply. At the time it didn't feel like a big deal.
The game started with the oh so worrisome statement, "I know who you want most in the whole school."
I cursed inside, he knew. He must have. Maybe he didn't. Maybe. . . "Who?"
That was the last time I ever said "who." Who only made the who-would-ya-do game much much worse. it always started like that, then Jake launched into a litany of potential mates. (mostly staff members and chick friends of mine)
Part 8 of the TruthPart 8: This is Only a Test
I stressed over standardized test that year, although I never had before. It was a new school, I didn't know what to expect. So the night before the day of the test I was awake half the night crying, and on the bus in the morning too. So as I wandered into the A-C standardized test room that morning I was alone for just long enough to fill my pockets with tissues and calm down just a little bit. Then dreamy arrived on the scene and suddenly life was beautiful once again.
"What happened to your hair?" I couldn't help asking, looking up at him through weary swollen eyes, overnight his hair had taken on a sort of wavy, deflated look, instead of appearing curly and bouncy like it usually did.
"I straightened it." He explained, "I was gonna' wear eyeliner too, but it was my sister's and it had glitter in it. . ."
I laughed, and there was a short pause.
Jake bent his knees, dropping down to my eye-level and grinning, "you're short."
I scowled, not really angry, "I
Part 7 of the TruthPart 7: $1.95 More. . .
Well I would guess if you had a head for fairy tales as I do (and this can indeed be classified as a fairy tale I would say, it's a regular Cinderella, or something of the kind anyway.) you might already have realized that the girl who sat next to me those first few weeks in American history didn't keep dreamy and I apart for long. She moved before long and I found Jake sitting in her place one wonderful afternoon.
As long as I live I swear I'll never forget the way it made me feel to have him next to me for so long the first time. The hour floated by. I was completely comfortable, like I had known Jake for years and I could tell him anything he bothered to ask about, but at the same time my heart raced like I was on a treadmill the entire time. The next few weeks were all like that. Every day at one o'clock I was pulled into this magic little world only Jake knew the way to.
Now, I know it isn't natural to enjoy a gym teacher's presence, but at the time I had o