FicWad

We stood in silence waiting for the bus to arrive, it was awkward, but we were saved by the bell, so to speak. The bus came to hissing, angry halt, almost as if it was not pleased to stop. Well make that bell more like the sound of the beast below the stairs of The Munsters. Patrick looked at me, scared slightly. I gave him a reassuring nod.

“Sit with me?” he asked meekly.

“Duh, why wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves just yet.” I teased.

“Haha, very funny.”

“I know, I’m a regular court jester. The king pays me five shillings a week.” I looked back at him shuffling through the bus, talking at him.

“Pretty and sarcastic, that’s just scary.”

“What was that?” I could barely hear over the animal like roar of the bus crowd.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, okay.”

I sat near the middle of the bus, taking the window seat. Patrick followed. I adjusted myself and retreated to staring out the window, not that there was anything to look at, really. Just habit, I guess. He wasted no time to grab his ipod, with huge stereo quality headphones. He looked so dorky, but absolutely adorable. I left him to his music, and returned to my window. I looked back at him a few minutes later; he was silently snapping his fingers and bobbing his head to the beat. I could not help but laugh. He realized I had caught him red handed, and removed his headphones.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough. What are you listening to?”

“Sinatra.”

“New boy, say what?”

“Frank Sinatra.”

“I know who he is, I just can’t believe I’m not the only one who loves him around here anymore.”

“People that don’t like Frank can kiss my pasty, ginger ass.”

“I did not need that visual, thank you very little.”

“Oh sorry, my apologies to the lady.”

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“That’s what everybody told Frank.” He beamed at his own comment.

“Now don’t go getting a big head or anything, that will definitely get you on my bad side.”

“Who’s on your bad side?”

“Just about every guy at school, except my best friend Pete and my cousin Joe.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I promise I’ll never pledge to The Summer’s Eve crowd.”

“I cannot believe you know the name.”

“Grew up with 3 half sisters, all older than me. You start to learn things.”

“I suppose.” I gazed lazily out the window again, fading from the conversation.

He was something else. Cute, funny, awkwardly appealing. He definitely had good taste in music, which was for sure. I mean the kid listened to Sinatra and Bowie. That puts you in my good book in a heartbeat. I looked over to him, sort of stared, looking away anytime I had a fear of being caught. This should be interesting. Wait until Pete meets this kid. Pete Wentz is my best friend at Wilkes High School. He had been since elementary. He lives two blocks away from me. We met in the park one day, the result of an impromptu play date; our mothers were good friends. We hated each other at first. I find it funny now, because either of us would take a bullet for the other. My cousin Joe Trohman was our other comrade. They met through me of course, and instantly hit it off. Pete plays bass, Joe the guitar. I have been told I can sing, but I try to stick to writing. We have been trying to get a band together but it never worked out because we messed around too much. We always had fun. It was our rule. We stuck together in school. High school can be harsh. Especially, when you’re singled out. We never minded much, as long as we had each other. We accepted any misfit, unwanted, “freak” that wished to join us. So that’s where Patrick comes in. Honestly, they would probably pick his bones clean. He’s nerdy, which makes you an easy target at Wilkes. I didn’t care, he was golden with us. Stand as a pack, fall as a pack, but never stray. That’s what Pete says all the time. The monster bus approached the school’s blacktop corral slowly, everyone unloaded. I walked behind Patrick, emerging from the bus, cringing as the sun hit my eyes.

“You ready to be thrown to the wolves now, Pattycakes?”

“Not funny.”

I put on my best British accent. “ Five shillings, damn you.—“ I scoffed. “Silly peasant!”

“And so the saga continues…”

“Okay Captain Kirk.”

“What. Are you? Saying?” Wow, he had the William Shatner thing down packed.

I laughed, approaching the double doors with Patrick slightly trailing behind me. I sighed deeply.

“Here goes nothing.”

“Beam me up Scottie.” Patrick announced, walking in.

Yep, this was going to be interesting.