As soon as the clutter of people clears away from the tack board, I snatch up my backpack and work my way to the front of the class. The assignment had not gone well with the whole of my classmates, the group of girls taking up the desks behind me bitching and moaning about how they didn't need this "experience" to complete anything. Nonsense. It's not like it's an impossible task; to be quite frank, it's not hard at all and anybody could wipe the project off their to-do list in less than ten minutes if they devoted it fully.
Welcome to high school English (or as I prefer to call it, the portals of doom and despair!). This is one of the classes that I hear the most rap about from my fellow classmates. Apparently, when there's the obligation to open a book and read a couple of lines, the students go insane with bouts of laziness. Honestly, though, it's one of my favorite classes. Each year I've looked forward to my English classes more and more, and it's only improved once in high school. Can you even imagine how glad I am to be... challenged with more complex works of art? Can you even imagine how glad I am to be in a place where I can actually learn and show off what I've been taught in the past?
After all, being the spawn of a famous novelist has to be good for something, right?
Picture those stupid little flashback lines now, okay? Let's go back a bit.
When my father was twelve years old, he ran away from home after witnessing some form of abuse between his parents. That's all I really know about that issue because he never really wanted to tell me exactly what it was he saw. It's been one of those family secrets that he promised to tell me but "not until you're old enough to look around what really happened", which means one of two things: either it's something that changed him forever or it's something that I might take wrong because of my age. Yeah, so... I'm only fourteen. What the hell's the point of being in high school if I can't start some horrible rumors about my own family?
Being rich, I've heard them all before. Believe me.
Everything managed to change for the better (or worse, as my mother calmly states whenever she opens her mouth) when my father turned sixteen and decided he liked writing the essays in his.... that's right... high school English classes. To make a really long and dense story short, he wrote himself a good 'ol fashioned novel and people loved it. Within the first year, he had made a fucking name for himself, and was practically a god before he turned eighteen; his works were supposedly well written and quite entertaining. Hmmm... well. Don't know what they see in it; I fell asleep after the first chapter and lied about it ever since.
"Did you read your father's book, Duo?"
"Uh huh."
"What did you think?"
"Lives up to the rumors, I'll say!"
I don't even think my mom read the damn book. There was just something in her eyes that gave me this horribly ironic feeling that she wanted somebody in the family to have read it, and she didn't want it to be her. Being unable to keep my own damn boredom in check, I looked the damn book up on the internet and read the condensed cliff notes given by some college kid who had to do an assignment on it. My father looked so damn proud of me when I brought up one of his characters and quoted, word for word, that kid on the Internet who found the book to be a masterpiece. My mother had looked up from her food on that evening and gave me a look that practically screamed that she was proud, too. Proud that I had managed to "read" the book when she had been unable to.
Proud that I had finally done something to make my father happy.
Maybe if they were more observant, they would have noticed that the fresh paperback version of the book they gave me had been sitting right on my dresser for about a month, a thin sheen of dust collecting on the top. Maybe they would have noticed that the book wasn't creased, or the pages weren't bent, or that new book smell hadn't faded yet. Tricky little demon, aren't I?
Not really. It's not like I was trying to hide it. The only possible way it could have been more noticeable would be if I wired neon signs up in my room that pointed to the new, unread book. If I wanted them to be completely disappointed in me, I could have turned on my computer and gone back to that lone webpage with all the information I needed to sound smarter on the topic than I was. How fucking fun that would have proved to be.
Is that enough about me, then? I'm a dishonest, horrible young boy and a worthless son. So sue me.
Back to here and now? Okay.
The assignment is so fucking simple, it almost seems to mock my intelligence. Our teacher is this pseudo-hippie who believes in the idea that everybody should know what everything means. I guess he learned that little tidbit when smoking the ganja with his buds back in his olden days, you know? Trying to teach the kiddies all the stuff that he never really had a chance to understand because he was too high in the clouds to focus on the blackboard. If I didn't know better, I would say he's the one who is secretly selling drugs to those odd kids that never seem to show up to class. They got busted three days ago for having crack on their persons, and they've only been given two weeks at some alternative school. This issue cranks me a little because I had detention for a week and a half for being caught with my damn cell phone on school grounds. And to think, it was in my locker the whole time, clicked off with the battery pulled out.
Busted.
My mom's as paranoid as a mouse living in a cat-infested world, demanding I call her as soon as I leave school or as soon as my plans suddenly change. Being unable to drive myself, she makes my best friend call her the second we leave school. Heero Yuy is seventeen right now, has his license, and acts the part of friend by driving me places with him. I actually met him the first day of my freshman year, him being assigned by the office to take me on a tour of the school. Being a top student in the joint, Heero has enough credits to do what he wishes and decided his sophomore year that he wanted to be an office aide. Yadda yadda yadda... he showed me around, took me to the bathroom and told me to stand watch while he smoked a cigarette. As soon as he was done, he sort of claimed me as his own and decided that he didn't want my freshman year to be horrible, so he made arrangements.
Working in the office, he managed to get me the locker right next to his, but decided to put me right below his instead so that we both wouldn't have to wait for someone we didn't know. Plus, he told me quietly, freshman normally always have bottom lockers, and it would look a little strange if you were an exception.
"I'll protect you from the mean seniors!"
And that was that. Whenever something seemed to be working against me, he would pop right up and pull some strings so everything could be normal again. When someone bigger decided to pick on me, he would waltz right into the conversation like he had been there the whole time and he got my possible bullies to back down. When everything seemed to be going downhill, he would be there and treat me like a friend he had known for his entire life.
There was always a space for me at his lunch table, even on the first day when I walked into the room and felt my heart slam from the huge crowd. I had spotted a table at the corner of the room and this shower of calm settled over me because I felt like everything would be okay. The second I sat down in that seat, my eyes plastered themselves to the clock hanging on the wall and I, being the horrified freshman, could only sit and hope that the period would end. Three minutes later, he showed up and asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. Hoo-boy, for a second I thought he had just been nice to me that morning so I wouldn't tell anyone about him smoking! I was wrong, though, because he winked at me and told me he saved a spot for me at his table.
"Join me?"
And I did.
As soon as he got his license, though, he brought the subject up to me and asked me if I wanted him to begin driving him home. Now, that was a god send to me because I despised riding the bus with every inch of my being. There's something indecisively cruel about making all the unpopular teenagers ride the bus with some of the most horrible people in the school. I would practically run to get the bus so I could get a front seat and stay close to the bus driver. I'm surprised the track coach didn't offer me a position; I'm still quite proud of the time I made getting from point A to point B! Quite proud, indeed.
He followed me home the day he offered and my parents got to meet my only friend. Needless to say, they weren't too thrilled to find out that my best friend was an older, more experienced lad who wanted to take me to and from school each day. That would mean that they would have to place their son's life into the hands of another, and hope to god that nothing bad would happen. With a little coaxing and encouragement, my father was the one who caved after Heero mentioned that he recognized him from the book cover.
Pure brilliance.
Holy hell, I get so distracted, don't I? Off topic, off topic... go away!
Where was I?
Oh yes!
The assignment is this bootleg word research we have to have done in a week, the 6-paragraph report typed and put on the teacher's desk by Friday. I must admit, though, it sounds better to research the origins of an actual word rather than the letter paper we had to do a month ago. Do you know how freakin' hard it is to write six paragraphs about the letter "T"? I got an 82 on that paper, and I must admit that I am quite fortunate to have gotten that good of a grade. That report was written last minute... typed up in the school library with a little help from Heero and one of his friends who works in said library. I had it written, typed, and printed out before the first bell rang at 7:55, and it was on time. Dammit, I have good connections.
Can you believe that all this chatter has only filled the gap between the second I stood up from my desk and the moment I reach the tack board? I can't either, if it makes you feel any better. It seems like I've been talking for hours, and who's to say that I haven't? Who knows what goes on in my mind?
Finally arriving at the board, I run my finger down the list of names until I get to the "M" section, spotting my name and running my finger across the line until....
Trepidation.
Hm.
Heero's waiting for me. Out the doorway and to the right is a long stretch of lockers in the main hallway, as the school likes to call it. In the middle of said hallway, there are two lockers that I use quite frequently. Heero owns one of them, and the other is rightfully mine for the school year. Walking down this hallway is kind of brutal because you have to look out for the other students. Being a sophomore (can you believe I've only known Heero for a year?), I have some unspoken right to be a bitch to the freshman. If they see me in the hallway and they know what grade I'm in, it's common courtesy for them to stand aside and make sure they don't bump me. Upper classmen, however, can do whatever they please to me so long as it's not quite as harsh as what they do to freshmen.
Funny how my attitude changes in one year.
Already beating on the young ones, Heero asked me once, grinning his ass off at me. He loves it when I do something that I particularly didn't like when I, myself, was amongst the fresh meat. If it wasn't for Heero, I'd be some senior's bitch by now. That would be funny...
Heero's already waiting for me when I get there, his back resting on both of our lockers like he had been there for hours. For some odd reason, he always manages to look so damn smooth no matter what he's doing. He could be in a chicken suit outside of a fast food restaurant, and people would comment on how well he manages to complete the task. If I did it, I would be dragged into the nearest bathroom the next day at school and my ass would get beaten up. What can I say? I am such a sissy, it isn't even remotely funny to anyone but Heero.
"Hey, man."
He glances in my general direction, grinning at me until I can't help but grin back. When he looks like that, it normally means he's up to something that won't help him any. Doesn't matter much to me because he hardly tells me most of the stuff I would kill to know. Best friend or not, he still has a rep to maintain. Telling a sophomore something that only his group should know wouldn't run over smoothly with his friends.
"Duo. Have fun in class?"
"Joyously so, indeed. Office work?"
"Brilliant as always. How do you feel about going out with me tonight to see a movie?"
My parents haven't quite reached the point where they'll let Heero take me to places that could be fun. They've seen enough of him over the passed year to know that he wouldn't hijack me and take me to Germany or anything, but that doesn't make it any better. There's that damn paranoia again, shining through when all I really want to do is go everywhere with Heero because it could be great. If my parents let me go places with him, I seriously believe I could get to know some of Heero's friends. And if I got to know some of Heero's friends, I could maybe finally tell my parents that I'm not just talking about Heero.
"Can't. Fam-folks won't let me go with you,"
I try to push him off to the side so I can get to my top locker (I moved up, literally!), but he stays right where he is. His hand grasps onto my wrist as I make another attempt to move him, and his eyes flash with something I've grown to call "annoyance".
"You're going to have to tell your parents soon enough, Duo. They can't keep you in the house forever."
"But they can keep me until I'm eighteen. Or at least until I'm sixteen. If you've forgotten, fine sir, I'm only fourteen."
He shuffles off to the side and holds up both hands, flashing four fingers and then six and then finally eight. Heero does it again, and once more until he catches on that I'm ignoring him. Spinning the dial on my locker, I put in my combination and wince as the ghastly object opens with a metallic shriek. Shoving all my junk into the locker, I slam the locker shut and leave him standing at his own locker, rushing to open it so he can follow. By the time I hear his locker slam shut, I round the corner and start to jog down the next hallway, cutting into the stairwell and beginning a slow journey up towards the 3rd floor.
The door clangs open and he starts to stomp up the steps behind me, sighing quietly. Turning my head a bit to give him a questioning stare, he shrugs off the look and stops to shove some of his books into the empty book bag he snatched from his locker. When I hear him move again, I reach the top landing of the 3rd floor and exit out into the hallway, heading straight for the library. A small stream of cuss words filter out of his lips as he trails behind, no doubt pouting and acting like the child he wishes he still was.
A wave of cool air washes out of the library as I open the single door leading in, the air conditioning one of the pluses of the unpopular location. Heero's friend looks up from where he's standing behind the counter, offering a polite smile before looking back down at the computer screen in front of him. I head straight for the tables in one of the corners, dropping my stuff down onto the polished wood before moving to snatch a dictionary. Heero trails in a moment later, looking grumpy and adorable all at the same time. He stops at the front counter and waits until his friend looks up before starting a conversation. How responsive that silent one can be when he's around Heero. Me? Bitter? No.
I suppose I'm a little jealous, though, and I also suppose that me slamming the dictionary down on the table was just to see how fast they could both turn to look at me. Very fast, indeed, actually. I've never seen the library aide move so fast before, so I guess it's kind of good to know that the guy has good reflexes. Must be a good driver unlike Heero. Oh? Didn't I tell you? Heero takes corners going like 76 and claims that that's the speed limit... for him.
"Don't worry! I saw a sign!" ... in his mind.
"I'm not speeding, Duo." ... but I am going obscenely fast.
"I'm being careful." ... I'll give him that. Heero just happens to be terribly safe going unsafe speeds. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but at least he doesn't have road rage, right? And he lets me handle the radio, which is cool enough for me. At least if I die, I'm going to die to some tunes that I enjoy.
Heero shuffles over to my table, plopping down in the chair across from me. I pointedly ignore his searching stare and look up my damn word, cursing myself for leaving my glasses in Heero's glove compartment earlier this morning. And him, being the non-sweetheart that he is, offered to go get them for me and I refused. Why? Don't know.... just don't fucking know.
"What's wrong?"
He unconsciously whispers, despite the fact that it's just us and his tall friend. Glancing up for just a second, I blink when I don't see the guy roaming around anywhere. Heero gives me a little smile once my eyes pass him and I feel the edge of his boot tap my leg quickly. Jumping at the contact, I move my leg away from his and give him one of my hopefully threatening looks. I don't ever think they work, though. What can I say? I just don't seem to be a very intimidating person.
"Nothing is wrong, Heero."
"Why have you been so... cranky towards me, then?"
Four months ago, Heero kissed me in front of my house and my father saw. It was such a random happening that the kiss itself didn't completely surprise me. It was just Heero's dumbass timing and how he thought it would be all fine and dandy to do something like that. I was very upset with him when he did that, but I guess everything was a little better when he said he wanted to kiss me because I looked sad. Said he thought I might need some contact from a friend or some bullshit like that. Four months ago was when I first started to question why Heero wanted to be my friend. When I started to question why I wanted to be Heero's friend. The mysteries of life. Hate them.
"No reason. Seriously. I've just been... distracted."
"Liar."
I ignored him for about three weeks after that incident, saying nothing more than necessary to him. He would pick me up in the mornings, drop me off in the afternoons, and that was that until I started to realize that I was missing my best friend. I don't even know what I was sad about when he kissed me. I don't even know if I want to know what made me so sad.... it never should have happened.
"No name calling, you stupid fuck."
And it's that easy to fall back to normal.
"Fine, 2 dollar whore. No name calling."
He sits back in his chair and watches me as I read, tapping his fingers against the table and grinning every time I shoot him a glare. There's something about Heero's personality that clashes with my own until it seems like the two of us should not even know each other. Something that I can't quite identify because on the surface we both seem so similar. We both like to laugh and talk about everything and nothing, but when we start to pick away the layers, something new is revealed about each of us. For example, I had the pleasure of finding out that he likes football more than he lets on, his obsession with television is growing somewhat unhealthy, he loves to draw raunchy comic books and show them to me during lunch.
He's gay.
That one was weird, and made the innocent kiss grate on my mind until I couldn't push it aside as just friendship. If he had kissed me before I knew that he was gay, I wouldn't have thought about it at all. I would have laughed it off and told him to stop being so damn stupid, but I knew the truth too soon.
I look up at him as he sighs again, sliding his chair back away from the table and standing up. He gathers his things up again and heads for the door. Not wanting to scream out at him to stop being a bitch, I fling my pencil at him and watch it pop against his back before tumbling to the carpet.
"Where are you going?"
He turns and winks at me.
"I was going to go wait for you at the car. At least there, I may have a chance at inhaling fumes and passing out from an environmental high."
He's my best friend.
"Heero, we can go now. Just.... let me get my things."
I tug everything into my arms in record timing, leaving the dictionary on the table just so I can be next to him faster. Not too sure where the sudden desperation came from. I mean... it's not like Heero's going to run off for no particular reason and leave me all alone.
"Is something wrong?"
Ignoring his soft voice, we leave the library and head out into the hallway. I won't lie and say that my thoughts hadn't been going in the same direction as Heero's, because that would be a downright lie and that's not polite. I just don't like it when my thoughts come to conclusions so randomly that all it takes is Heero standing up to leave me alone to get some work done. That's all it took... just now... just happened. His voice shatters through again, too soft to say what leaves his mouth.
"You're an idiot sometimes."
And before I can stop myself, I spin him to face me and press a soft kiss against his grinning lips. Pulling back, I watch his grin fade and his eyes widen just enough for me to notice a definite change. My heart skids to a brutal halt, my hands gripping onto the sleeves of my best friend's coat.
Oh, god.
"Duo?"
Oh... fuck.
... A state of alarm or dread; apprehension.
This fucking sucks.
"Why did you do that?"
Why the hell did I do that?
Am I breathing?
"Duo?"
Oh...
"Are you alright? You look... Duo?"
... that wasn't too bad.
"Duo?"
"Yeah?"
"What was that for?"
"I thought we could both use it?"
"Oh... alright, then."
He leans forward, brushing his lips against mine.
Trepidation... brief first hand account. I'll be damned.
My parents are going to hate him more for this. Jesus.