It is now officially a fact. The universe hates me. Russel is sitting with her now, really? After three freaking years of people approaching her table and receiving the death-glare in reply, (people including myself, in case you hadn't caught on,) this new guy comes and suddenly he gets to sit with her just 'cause he has a freaking accent? So what if he's British! I'm part British, too, I just didn't grow up there! What's the big deal? I huff and glance over at Ian, the kid who sits at the same table as me every day but who never says more to me than, "Hey", "Hello", or even the occasional, "'Sup." That kid really bugs me, but what am I going to say, "Hey, could you go find another loser to sit with, I'm sick of you?" Yea, like I have the authority to kick someone out of any lunch spot, even this lame one. "You really like her, huh?" Ian suddenly says. I look up at him, shocked that it has spoken, and reply, "Uh, who?"
"Venice. Duh. Who else would I be talking about?" I can feel my cheeks heat up and feel like slapping myself. Wow. I really am a loser. "Uh, why would you say that?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you spend every single lunch period of your entire life staring over at her table?" I blink, "I do?"
"Wow. You're pathetic." I roll my eyes, "Thanks, man."
"Yea, whatever," Ian replies, standing up and swinging his bag over his shoulder as the bell rings, "See ya later."
"I know I will," I mumble, but he doesn't hear me.
"You have no life," Jesse says as he walks into the house that evening and his girlfriend pulls out of the driveway. I look up at him from the couch where I'm watching some lame show that is the only thing on. "Thanks, Jess, I appreciate it."
"Hey, I thought maybe if someone reminded you enough, you might do something to change it." I grab a handful of chips out of the ripped-down-the-side bag sitting next to me on the couch and say, "Sorry to crush your dreams, but I'm not changing for nobody."
"For nobody."
"Yup."
"What about for that Venice chick?" I look up at him, "You know Venice?"
"I know you like her." I roll my eyes and throw a couch cushion at him, looking back at the screen, "Shut up."
"Whatever. Well, are you going to that party that chick in your grade is throwing this
Saturday?" I look up at him, "You mean Erica?" He nods and sits down next to me, a soda in hand. I laugh, "I couldn't go to that even if I wanted to." Jesse rolls his eyes, "Course you can. It's a Barn Party."
"So?"
"So?! Everyone can go to a BP, doofus!"
"Why? What's so special about a freakin' BP? What kind of stupid name is that anyway?" Jesse rolls his eyes,"If you throw a BP, you're automatically allowing anyone to come. You don't invite people to a BP. You just let someone know you're having one, word spreads, and when it finally happens, the place is filled with a bunch of people you've never seen before in your life." I raise an eyebrow in irritation, "Sounds like fun."
"You're an idiot. It's not like they'll be doing drugs or something. It's a freaking Barn Party."
"Yea, whatever. I'm not going."
"Why not?!"
"Because, it's stupid. And no one wants me there."
"You're a doofus."
"I think we already clarified that."
"Whatever, loser. Fine, let some other guy grab your girl, see if I care." I look up abruptly, "What?"
"You don't think Florence is just gonna spend her life walking around with a sign on her back that says, 'Reserved For James' do you? She's gonna get a guy and you're gonna regret it."
"Her name's Venice, not Florence." He shrugs, "Like I care," and stands up, walking upstairs. I look back at the TV screen and think of Venice sitting and laughing with Russel at lunch today. As much as I hate to say it... Jesse's probably right.
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