I Want to be There
H. Gean and J. Miller
Hey. What's up? Not much. Just trying not to sleep in stupid assed Wilson's class…again. History is such a fucking boring subject. I mean, let's get real here…who the HELL uses history later on in life? No one, that's who…well unless you're a historian, but that doesn't really count now, I suppose.
Anyways…I'm still sorry about bailing on you guys at lunch…except well, Simon was there. And you know how I feel about Simon. Honestly…that's one kid that I'd actually like to beat the shit out of…but we all know I wouldn't do that. I don't honestly have it in me. He just aggravates me to no end.
Guess what? Only a few days left of school! Yes!
Well…sorry it's so fucking short, but I'm gonna go. Wilson just looked my way and if he catches me writing this, I'm a goner.
I folded up the note and stuck it in my pocket, while attempting to avoid my evil history teacher's glare. That man infuriated me to no end. He thought he knew a lot about teaching, but he honestly really didn't. Asshole. But you do what you have to do.
The bell rang (finally!) and I headed out into the hallway, looking for my best friend's face in the hallway. Olivia was a year younger than I was, but she was still my best friend. I was a junior now and when next fall arrived, I'd be a senior. I headed for AP Art, still looking for my friend, but in the end, didn't find her. Sighing, I headed down the stairs and into the pit, landing in the art room, just as the bell rang.
Ah. Art. This room was one of the few escapes I had from daily life. I stuck my books on my table, then headed for the shelves at the front of the room. I grabbed my sketchbook and sat down, ready for whatever we were going to do that day. I sat at the table, on the stool that had become mine, and waited patiently. That is…till HE arrived.
He, would be Simon Gambill, fellow junior and fellow student. Fellow junior and student were as far as they went though. I couldn't stand Simon. The kid knew just how to rub me the wrong way. He laughed at something someone said to him, got his sketchbook and sat across from me. If I had it my way, he wouldn't sit there, but of course, he had. It started out just as a way to torture me on the first day of school, but the teacher had stated that these were to be our seats for the rest of the year and I thought I was going to die.
"How are you today, Torry?" Simon asked, an evil glimmer to his eyes.
"Shut up," I groaned, before drawing a doodle on the blank page in the sketchbook in front of me. "You tortured me enough at lunch. Haven't you had your fill for the day?"
Simon had been the main person to torture me since we'd been in the fifth grade. It'd started out with stupid stuff, like the occasional hair tugging, but had progressed into full frontal teasing, harassing, and verbal fights on arguments that neither of us could agree upon. He thought it was funny, but it honestly wasn't. I hated the kid.
He was cocky, he was full of himself…he was downright annoying. From his emo glasses (which he wore, despite the fact that he had contacts) to his somewhat curly brown hair (it was short, but unruly) to the same punk shirts he wore everyday, he annoyed me. The fact that he thought it was his job to annoy me too, didn't help matters. He was seventeen, also, but the kid was gonna be eighteen a month after school got out.
The teacher, Miss Smith, stood at the front of the room, her hands clasped together. She was young, around twenty-five, and one of the coolest people ever. She gave us artistic freedom and let us do pretty much whatever we wanted.
Simon gave up on me and turned to look at her. Why did we only have two per table in here? Granted there were only ten of us, you'd think we could have another person at each table. Not the point.
"Your next project is going to be a portrait…but don't get your hopes up yet. You can either use charcoal or oil pants, it's up to you…but…you'll be drawing the person across from you." My stomach fell. She HAD to be kidding me. "This is going to be a major project, meaning it's going to be worth fifty points. It's due on my desk in next week."
No. No…I didn't want to draw Simon. But there was no way out of this. Simon slowly turned around and looked at me, an evil glimmer on his face. "Hey partner," he said, a lazy drawl in his voice.
I dropped my head to my hands and groaned…loudly.
That weekend, I sat at home, on my front lawn, my own sketchbook in front of me, drawing the horizon in front of me. Curling my toes into the grass, I took a deep breath. We lived along Lake Erie, which was, in my opinion, a very nice place to live. My dad was a lawyer, so we had money…and a lakefront home. The house had a guesthouse accompanying it. Leave it to my dad to have to buy what were really two homes. It was nice though. During the summer, Liv and I got to live in the summerhouse, away from my parents, and away from Simon…who just so happened to be the next house down the road.
Let me tell you, I thank my lucky stars every day that he is half a mile away. If we were right next to one another, I think I would die. Liv lived on the other side of me. That's one reason why we're best friends…we live so close to each other.
I finished my picture, before placing the sketchbook inside. I called Liv up on the phone, and we agreed to meet down by the lake. It was so nice out. I walked down the steep steps to the lake and met her at the bottom. We took a walk, making small talk for a few minutes…and that was when it happened.
Something hit me in the back and I felt my shirt get damp. I'd been hit with a fucking water balloon and I had NO doubt in my mind who the asshole was that threw it. I turned slowly, to see Simon standing at the top of his hill, a grin on his face.
"You little shit," I began, anger coursing through me.
"Calm down Torry," Liv begged, looking back and forth between us. "It's just a water balloon."
"That's right, Torry, it's just a water balloon," Simon said, an evil glimmer entering his eyes. "It won't kill you."
I clenched my hands into fists and felt my nails digging into my flesh. "Leave the poor girl be already, Simon," another guy's voice called out. He walked forward till he was standing beside Simon. I realized it was Landrin, Simon's sixteen-year-old brother. "Hey Liv. Hey Torry. How are you?"
"About to kill Simon, but fighting it back," I said between clenched teeth. Simon stood, arms crossed, a big grin on his face.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that. He tends to get carried away. We didn't give him his tranquilizer for the day."
"So I noticed."
Landrin grinned and grabbed his brother's arm. "Come on. Let's leave the girl's alone now, Simon."
"I'll see you tomorrow. You can draw me nude if you want," Simon called over his shoulder. "Since I know you want to see me that way, anyway. I'll spare you the trouble of getting me there."
"You fucking…" I began and headed for the stairs that led up to where he was. Reaching the top, I rushed for Simon. I lunged for him, but Liv grabbed me quickly from behind. She was stronger than she looked.
"Calm down," she whispered. "He's not worth it and you know it."
I bit my tongue, hard, before nodding. We headed home, but one thing was for sure…before the summer was over, I was going to kick Simon's ass.
Disclaimer:This belongs to Heather and Julie, not you, so please do not steal it! Thank you!
Author's Note:Well here we go again…the second story by Heather and I. We hope you enjoy it and let us know what you think. Thank you all so much! -Julie
Oh and by the way…this is a 2 P.O.V. story. I write as Torry and Heather writes as Liv. Thanks!