Random bits

Today's post is just random bits of my life that I overdramatize for the sake of writing. No, this is not because I have no idea what to post! Pfft... By the way, not all of these are about me. Some of it's what I see around me. You know, at school and such. Also, I changed some elements of most of the mini-bits, just for the sake of drama. They're not all part of the same story, either.


"He won't get up," she complains, nudging the puppy.
"He never wants to get up." She laughs and tugs him up by the collar. "He's lazy. Fat, too. But still adorable, so that kind of makes up for it."
"Yeah, it does." The puppy lays down again. There's silence for a few seconds as he rolls over.
"Back to work now?"
"Sure."

***

The girl laughs, "playfully" bumping the boy with her shoulder. "Ohmigaawwd," she shrieks. "Shut up!"
I shoot her a glare, but look back down before she can notice and start cussing me out, although I've never spoken to her before. I'm sure she's barely aware of my existence.
But I'm certainly aware of her existence. She's the one who blocks my locker daily. She's the one who keeps throwing herself all over my friend. She's the one who makes him uncomfortable, but I don't know if she realizes that. She probably does, though. That's probably why she keeps doing it.
How did she even get into this school? We're supposed to be prestigious, hard to reach, renowned for the difficulty of the admissions process. She must have really wowed them during her interview. She probably did. She's good at facades.
But I know who she really is. I've seen her type so many times.
The five-minute bell rings. The hallway begins to clear quickly. I stay at my locker a bit longer, hoping for a chance to talk, but she doesn't leave. I sit back on my heels, pretending to be indecisive about a certain binder.
"Hey." A foot nudges my backpack. "Come on, we gotta get to class." I glance over at my friend, whom she's still got in a trap.
"Sure," I say. I stand up and kick my locker as hard as I can. The slam echoes around the hallway, making her shriek. She stares at me as if she can't fathom how I could possibly want to be that loud.
"Whoops," I say. I turn and walk away before I do anything stupid. I can sense him staring at my back, hoping I'll turn around and rescue him from her... but I don't. I can't deal with her right now.

***

"No way! Are you serious?"
"Yes!" I gape at her for a second, then burst out laughing.
"A cheerleader? What's her name?"
"I have no idea. Dark brown hair. That's all I know."
"The one in our math class?"
"No, not her. Wait... do you mean that girl-"
"Sits one row over from me, a couple seats up."
"Oh. No, it's not her."
"Darn. Wish it was. That'd be hysterical."
"I know, right?" I pull up a mental image of our class, then try to remember if I've ever seen her watching him a little too closely. I don't think she ever has, though, so I dismiss the idea.
"Yeah. I mean, out of all the people in this school, she chooses him to Facebook-stalk?"
"Totally. It's just so... so..."
"Freaky," I say at the same time she says "Weird."
"Yeah." I lean back on my hands, wondering if he knows. "Does he know?"
"I dunno."
"We should tell him. It'd be hilarious."
"It would," she agrees. "It'd definitely make math a little more exciting."