“Joanna! Fredrick is on the telephone.”
Joanna rolled her eyes. “I’m busy,” she called back as she stepped into her cheerleading skirt. Her mom pushed opened her door.
“Mom! I could have been naked or something!” Joanna shrieked. “Anyway, I can’t talk to him now. I’ve got to go to the match.”
Mrs Wilkinson turned away, bringing the phone back up to her ear. “She’s busy. Speak to her tomorrow at school.”
Yes, I was still slightly infuriated at him. I think he’d touched a nerve, when he asked me about Mikey and him. But I couldn’t dwell on it for long. I had a match to cheer at.
“Hey honey. How about you come over here and see what a real winner looks like?”
Joanna looked over her shoulder at the laughing, sweating jock from the other school as she walked towards the car park.
“In your dreams jerk,” she shot as she continued towards where her father was parked.
She fully turned around. “Rick?”
“Anna,” he wheezed as he ran up to her. “I just wanted to-“ He broke off to breathe. She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“Hey sweetheart. Stop hanging with the freak.” It was the jerk jock again.
“Shut it moron,” she snapped. “Rick?”
He looked at her. “I’m sorry for earlier. I was just in a weird mood and I know it was no excuse but-“
She smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. I over reacted.”
He grinned with relief. “I love you.” She raised an eyebrow as he blushed suddenly realizing what he’d said. “I er, didn’t, um.”
She grinned and hugged him. “I know.”
I didn’t actually know. I just knew what he’d said and how I felt. I’d realized whom I liked best.
“There are a few pieces of writing that I’d like to read out to the class.”
Joanna sighed. English was so annoying. They’d had to write a piece of creative writing on the topic of love, no matter how weird or wonderful the links were.
“Love doesn’t make everything better. Love makes everything an awful lot worse. People say that love spans the age gaps, the race differences, and the sexuality of anyone. It doesn’t. You can fall in love with someone but it doesn’t mean that they love you back. Neither does it mean that people will accept it.”
Joanna zoned out. She didn’t even bother guessing who wrote the pieces. She just daydreamed. Until she suddenly caught a snippet of what the teacher was reading. He was reading a different piece now.
“He knows I exist. Of course he knows I exist. He just doesn’t know that my feelings for him exist. I don’t think he does anyway. Of course, that’s probably because I haven’t told him. Too afraid of getting hurt. And I don’t want to be another person wandering around crying, saying, ‘ he broke my heart’. That phrase really annoys me. Mainly because if your heart is broken then you’d be dead. So, yes, by all means be upset. But don’t tell people he broke your heart. Cause then you’d be dead. And then you’d never have a chance. Ever.”
She began to blush, her face slowly crimson. That was her piece. Her own actual thoughts and feelings. She hadn’t made it up. Of course, that had been a couple of weeks ago.
I was mortified when Sir read that out. It was embarrassing. He didn’t like me anyway. Nor did he like my work. Apart from that piece. He said it was refreshing, and unique. He also said that it made a change from all the pieces about how love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He also said that my informal style wasn’t really good enough and that I needed to learn how to not write as I think. I still have that piece somewhere. I’ll copy it out here, in this notebook. Well, I can’t at the moment because the book with it in is currently I don’t know where. So I’ll write what I can remember.
Love’s such a stupid topic. ‘Cause you could write about how it’s the best thing ever or how it’s wrecked your life. See, for me it’s just another thing to be talked about; thought about and dreamt about. Girl loves guy; guy loves girl…right? Nah. Doesn’t work like that. You end up with girl likes guy who likes guy who likes girl. Or guy who likes girl who likes guy but sleeps with another guy. I guess I’m lucky. Cause the girl that is me has a different scenario. Girl likes guy. End of. He knows I exist. Of course he knows I exist. He just doesn’t know that my feelings for him exist. I don’t think he does anyway. Of course, that’s probably because I haven’t told him. Too afraid of getting hurt. And I don’t want to be another person wandering around crying, saying, ‘ he broke my heart’. That phrase really annoys me. Mainly because if your heart is broken then you’d be dead. So, yes, by all means be upset. But don’t tell people he broke your heart. Cause then you’d be dead. And then you’d never have a chance. Ever.