Another Oneshot. I'm starting to like these. Please review.
He wasn't a punk. His parents would never let him rock a mohawk, and the tight fitting jeans never looked right. He only ever had one "punk" cd, and that was a birthday present that he gave away a few weeks later. And the whole drug scene was never his cup of tea. In fact, he even tried to smoke pot a few years back, but threw up afterwards and swore to never do it again.
So he didn't "fit" in anywhere. That was the only part of school he hated. The constant reminder that you needed to change everything about you to be accepted. Bullshit, he thought. People in the real world never have to change anything to make friends. People in the real world aren't put into groups. And people in the real world don't spend the rest of their lives in a school room. School was only a small part of your life and then after that you get to do whatever you damn well please. He found it ridiculous that things were the way they were, but there was nothing he could do to make it stop.
Being that he didn't really fit in anywhere, the amount of friends he had was small. There were the occasional smiles and waves from passing aquintances, and the occasional hello. If it wern't for his only friend, he would be completely alone.
The two of them met on the first day of kindergarden. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
The short, chubby boy sat there at the small plastic table in the corner of the room. It was his first day, and being away from his parents wasn't like him at all. He rarely ever left his mothers sight for more than a few minutes. This time it was different. An education awaited him and he couldn't go back.
He only had three things on his mind. The pretty girl across the room, the ball of playdough in front of him, and how tastey the chalk looked sitting there on the teachers desk. As much as he wanted to think about all these things, his thoughts were interupted when he felt someone polk his arm. He turned around and faced a small, dark haired, brown-eyed boy. The boys smile was picture perfect, and he couldn't help but notice how silky his hair looked.
"Hi!" The little kid squeeked. He looked like he was about to burst from excitment.
"Hey." He replied, adjusting his hat.
"I'm Pete!!" The kid squeeked again, this time bouncing up and down.
"I'm Patrick." He responded, just hoping the kid would go away... Is that chalk edible??
"WANNA BE MY FRIEND?" The Pete kid asked. Although, it seemed more of a command than anything else.
Patrick took a minute to think about it. "Ok." He finally said.
His new friend took a seat next to him and grabbed some of the playdough off the desk. "Do you think you can eat this stuff? My dad said you can't eat this stuff and my mom said you can't eat this stuff and my brother said you can't eat this stuff, and my uncle says you can't eat this stuff, but I think you can!"
Before Patrick could register that question, the kid scooped up the playdough and stuck it into his mouth.
"I don't think your sopposed to eat it." Patrick said 'as a matter a factly'.
Pete's once joyful, rosey face, turned into a pale, painful frown. He quickly spit out what playdough he hadn't swallowed, and ran over to the trash bin to throw up.
Things were good then, and he had wished he hadn't taken them for granite. There were no worries, no fears, no judging, just you and your imagination. It was kind of like-
His thoughts were interrupted by someone polking his arm.
"Hey Patrick." The dark-haired, brown-eyed boy said, taking a seat on the swing next to his friend.
"Thinkin' about what?"
"Life, and how easy it used to be."
"Oh. Yeah, those were the days." Pete replied, putting on his more serious face.
"Hey Pete?" Patrick asked.
"Promise me we'll always be friends."