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Middle School Sucks....Love Sucks More-Part 2
I met up with my best friend, Cindy, by my locker. I flung open its door and shoved textbooks into my backpack. Cindy smiled at me. She was way too chipper for me today. "Mornin'!" she squealed.
I tried to fake a smile for her sake. "Morning." It didn't sound even as half as enthused as hers had.
Her white smile dropped to a judgemental tell-me-what's-your-problem-I'm-your-best-friend frown. I played dumb. "What?" I asked, trying my best to look innocent. I failed. Wendy tossed her long, silky auburn hair over her shoulder and pressed on.
"What's your problem?"
Just then, Weston dropped his books in front of his locker. I couldn't help shooting a death glare a him. Cindy nodded like she knew exactly what was happening, which I'm sure she did, patted me on the shoulder with her tan hands, and walked away.
Great, now I was left with him.
I wasn't really mad at him for liking Justine. He couldn't help it. No boy in our eighth grade class could. She had perfect blond hair that I was sure wasn't her real hair color, perfect cat-like sea glass green eyes that guys insisted turned blue when the sun hit them "just right", and a flirty grin that was totally bleached.
I hated her so much. And I hated myself for liking a sheep of a guy that went with the crowd and liked Justine for all the wrong reasons (and I'm not talking about her wonderful personality).
He was kneeling in front of his locker, putting books into his locker with a confidence and air of "who cares about school anyway?" that made me swoon.
Yeah. I agree. That DOES sound stupid. But it was true. And I'm trying to be honest here.
After a few moments of just staring at his perfectly brushed brown hair and pink-ish cheeks that stood out from the rest of his pale skin with such frustration I thought I was going to explode, he turned his chocolate eyes on me. I almost fell backwards with their intensity.
Yeah. That sounds stupid, too.
He furrowed his eyebrows until they almost merged with his eyelids. Then, suddenly, he turned away and back to his locker. "What's your problem?" he asked me, not even bothering to look me in the eye again. Which, although I was aggravated, I wanted him to do so badly.
I wanted to scream. What's wrong?! What's wrong is that I think I love you and you don't even bother to look me in the face with those palpitation-inducing brown eyes....
I caught myself and sighed. "Nothing," I pouted.
He barely heard me. "Cool."
That's all he said. "Cool." Like I was one of his guy friends that he never talked to out of school but still hung out with whenever there was no one else to hang out with. And it made my heart flutter.
"So..." I tried to think of something witty and flirty to say, but he got up and walked off without even a "Bye."
I felt so pathetic as I tossed more books into my locker. What did Justine have that I didn't have?! God! A big chest? If that's all that Weston wanted I could give him that with a Wonder Bra just like Justine uses. She tries to act like it's not obvious that she does, but I can tell.
Was I a loser? Was that it? Was I just so low on the eighth grade food chain that I wasn't even worth glancing at?
Weston seemed so...great. But...above me.
I spun around at the sound at my name. A part of me thought that it MUST be Weston. He had a change of heart and realized that he loved me. And for the split second before I realized who it was, I had already thought up what I would say and what I would do.
But it was my best guy friend Garret. I slumped down, not even bothering to cover up my annoyance. He shrugged. "Well, I didn't mean to be such a disappointment."
"It's not that," I said.
He rolled his eyes. "Weston."
There was something hard in his eyes when he said Weston's name. "Why do you even like him? He's a jerk."
I felt compelled to defend him, but I couldn't. Maybe Garret was right. What if HE was the one who wasn't worth it.
I retracted the idea as soon as I thought it. It felt blasphemous. Of COURSE Weston was worth it.
Garret rolled his eyes again. "Come on," he said, "let's head to lunch."
That's when I saw Ryan for the second time that day.
He was standing near the end of the hallway, talking to some guys I remembered from my honors language arts class. Was Ryan in my class? I never noticed him.
He was laughing like whatever the other guys had said wasn't funny but he was laughing because he didn't want to be rude. But his smile reached his eyes, anyway, I noticed. Like there was always a sparkle there.
He seems like a sweet guy, I noted. I wish I had a sweet guy.
But I had Weston. And that was enough.
At least, I thought it was.
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