A Boy Can Dream pt. 3

A Story by Little Crow

The third part of my attempt at a story.

I'm sitting in second period history, and I really wish I'd skipped this class too, it's like every year we go from the stone ages all the way up to World War II, and then we start all over again the year after. Does anyone else notice this? Seriously.
I've decided to whittle away the time by drawing in my binder, I started with a little tree, and I just started drawing braches off from there, inking them into the paper darker and bolder with each pass, until they almost appeared to have depth, and they shined with the wet ink on top of the dry.
As I'm looking at what's become a crudely drawn, but intricate design on the now waved and bumpy sheet of paper, I realize it's become very quiet in the classroom, and I look up in time to realize the teacher has been waiting for me to respond to his question.
"Uhm...." I stammer, with what I assume is a very stupid look on my face. "I...uh...I don't feel well, can I go to the nurse?"
He sighs and shakes his head, then dismisses me with a wave of his hand. I stack my books and tuck them under my arm then march my way out of there. I take my sweet time walking to my locker, and after only two failed attempts I pop the latch on the lock and swing it open, letting it clang against the locker next to mine. I unceremoniously stuff my books and binder into it, they'll just be a burden since I've got the rest of the hour to spend wandering.
As I look over to where I sat this morning, next to Katrina, I notice a scrap of paper all twisted up in the hinges of my locker, it must've gotten caught when I flipped it open. I wiggle the locker door back and forth as I tug on the paper, careful not to rip it, lest it be something important, and finally I get it free. I unfold it and have a look, it's just my schedule. As I'm pondering how in the hell it got stuck there, I remember I had my schedule stuffed in my pocket this morning...and I yanked it out to write Katrina that note. So, I unfold it and read the back.
In my sloppy, somewhat disjointed scrawl:
I forgot to mention before, my name is Luke, let's be friends? I promise to be nice. :)
Underneath that, a much neater and feminine script:
Well, as long as you promise to be nice, then I suppose.
P.S. Check the front of this, too.
I flip the paper over and review my classes, I notice two circles, one over my lunch period, and the other over my english class, then a thin line directed to more of the neat handwriting:
See you here?
I flip my schedule back over, and hold it against my locker with one hand, as I fish a pen out of my back pocket. I bite the cap and tug it off, as I scribble a reply:
Yes, I'll be there. Promise.
My heart's actually pounding in excitement, should I be this excited over my first friend here? Well, probably not, but whatever, I am. I jog down to her locker, and stick it in the top vent. Satisfied, I walk back to my locker, shut the door and maneuver the lock back onto it and latch it shut. I stuff my book in my back pocket in case I get bored, and I set off down the hall once again, with my step being significantly lighter and a goofy grin plastered on my face.
I take my time walking down the hall. The remaining fourty minutes until lunch seems even longer now. I'll admit I'm pretty excited to talk some more with Katrina, I wonder what other kinds of books she likes.
As I'm deep in thought about the topics of conversation I might have with Katrina, I decide to just find an empty hall to sit down and read in, before I walk into something. I fish my phone out of my pocket and fight to untangle my headphones for a good three or four minutes before I'm successful. I scroll through my music with one hand as I plug in my headphones with the other, then I wiggle my book out of my back pocket as soon as the music starts in.
I lean up against the locker and cross my feet as I navigate to my dog-eared page and flip it open. I'm about three pages in when I realize I haven't taken in a single word yet. I'm too wrapped up in grand ideas of what lunch will be like, so I decide to go wander some more, and poke around the school, since I've yet to really get used to where things are yet.
I slip my iPod in my pocket as I stand up, and hike my jeans up. I leave my headphones and turn it up, as I begin my wandering down the hall. I figure if I'm going to do anything productive in this time before lunch, I'd better have a destination. I fish through my pockets trying to find the stupid map they gave me on my first day, I really need to stop shoving papers in my pockets, I lose everything. As I'm walking down the hall, the cruel gods of shuffle play an old Motley Crue song, I skip it before the guitar even gets into the third note. It reminds me too much of Dad. I can't help but wonder how he is, I haven't spoken to him since the last time I tried to call, he didn't seem...interested. I can't blame Mom for the choices she made, I really can't. Hell, I should be glad to be rid of him, but all I can do is worry. I try to shake off the thoughts of back home, but it's no use. I shove a supply closet door open and pull out my smokes, time to waste some time.