Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away, chapter 1
"Stop it, Frank, I'm trying to finish this essay for English!" I say to my best friend. He's hitting my head with a stick as we're sitting on the grass outside of our high school at lunchtime. Apparently, he's playing on his "invisible drum set", and I just so happen to be sitting in the same place as a cymbal.
"But I need to practice..." he whined. "Otherwise Lawrence will let Josh in the band instead of me, and my career as a world famous drummer will die and I'll become addicted to antidepressants and my life will suck and I'll be known as 'that deadbeat rock star that never really got famous'!"
"Josh can't keep the simplest beat, even I could play drums better than him, and I don't even know what any of them are called!"
"Snare, bass, tom.." he starts.
"Alright, alright, I get the idea."
Maybe I should start from the beginning. My name is Mia Thomas, and I'm twelve years old. I met Frank in preschool, and ever since the first time we made eye contact we knew we were meant to be together. Well, he did... however, I wasn't quite so sure. I wish we were still in preschool. I remember it like it was yesterday... except yesterday I wasn't four years old. And I didn't get naptime, I got homework. Anyways, back to the point. Frank ran up to me screaming, "You're gonna be my girlfriend!" I went home crying.
The next day he broke up with me because his mommy thought we should probably just be friends. Ever since that day Frank and I have been inseperable. It's like we can read each other's minds. Right now Frank is worried about getting into Lawrence's band. Seems kind of strange to me. Some guy recruiting kids to play in his band? Oh well, Frank is really excited. I just hope he gets in, otherwise he'll be sulking for weeks. It's coming in two more days, I'm going with him when he tries out so I can cheer him on, and boo at all the other kids. Don't think I won't, because I will.
Let me get one thing straight with you. Frank and I are FRIENDS. It's strange how people say things when a girl hangs around with a guy. Everytime someone asks us if we're going out, Frank smiles and says, "We're not going out, but I bang her all the time!"
Of course he means me being his cymbal. He needs to lay off the sugar... People are going to start thinking sick thoughts. Well, actually, they already have. I've been called a 'slut' and 'whore' by the people who misinterpret Frank's meaning of "bang". But it doesn't get to me, I've learned to just laugh it off. And if they bug me more, well, Frank always stands up for me.
The bell rings and it's time for me to go to class. Frank and I have math together. The teacher is sick, so we've got a substitute, and that means Frank and I can move our desks together.
"Excuse me, are you supposed to be sitting like that?" the sub said, pointing at the desks.
"Yeah, we sit like this every day in this class," Frank replies. There are giggles around us as people we know well nod their heads, agreeing with him.
"So, what do you think Ms. uh.. Teacher is sick with?" I whisper to Frank. I know, I should know the teacher's name by now, but its long and confusing and knowing it is unnecessary.
"Herpes." he replies automatically.
"You can't skip work with that. Maybe mono or something."
"Nope, it's herpes. Wanna know how I know that?"
"NO!"
"Alright. Your loss." he replies, grinning.
"My gain," I mutter.
"Heard that"
"Quiet, you two!"
Frank starts playing his imaginary drum kit again with two pencils and making "ch, ch, ch" noises as he 'hit' them. At least this time my head wasn't a piece of the kit. I start to answer the math questions. I'll do half, Frank will do the other half, and then we'll switch and copy each other's answers. This system has worked for many years and has not failed us yet.
The bell rings and it's time for me to go to Art and time for Frank to go to Science. I hate my art class, it's nearly impossible to stay awake.
As we walk out of Math Frank turns to me and asks, "Wanna go to a movie?"
"You mean after school?"
"I mean now."
"No, you mean after school. I'll meet you outside your locker."
"Fine."
It's times like these when I feel like a parent. And it sucks. I could skip, but my parents would ground me for life, and then I wouldn't see Frank again, and then I would get addicted to antidepressants and be known as 'that girl that misses that guy'. Yes, Frank and I do this a lot. Just for the record, neither of us is addicted to antidepressants, and we are known as 'that guy and that girl that are always together'. Alright, we're not always together. When we were nine our parents stopped letting us sleep over at each other's houses. At first we were angry and confused, but then came health class, a.k.a: Sex Ed. Then we weren't confused, just angry. Just to let you know, Frank finally got over that serious cootie infection he was born with last year. We had a party to celebrate. You see, the thing with cooties, if you have them then you go into complete denial. But, when you get over them and someone mentions a party, you either think "HEH! CAKE!" or "HEH! BEER!" Ours was a cake party. We're twelve years old, dumbass.
I hope Frank gets into that band. Otherwise I might be a cymbal for the rest of my life. Actually, even if he does get in, I'll still be a cymbal. So...
I still hope he gets in.
"But I need to practice..." he whined. "Otherwise Lawrence will let Josh in the band instead of me, and my career as a world famous drummer will die and I'll become addicted to antidepressants and my life will suck and I'll be known as 'that deadbeat rock star that never really got famous'!"
"Josh can't keep the simplest beat, even I could play drums better than him, and I don't even know what any of them are called!"
"Snare, bass, tom.." he starts.
"Alright, alright, I get the idea."
Maybe I should start from the beginning. My name is Mia Thomas, and I'm twelve years old. I met Frank in preschool, and ever since the first time we made eye contact we knew we were meant to be together. Well, he did... however, I wasn't quite so sure. I wish we were still in preschool. I remember it like it was yesterday... except yesterday I wasn't four years old. And I didn't get naptime, I got homework. Anyways, back to the point. Frank ran up to me screaming, "You're gonna be my girlfriend!" I went home crying.
The next day he broke up with me because his mommy thought we should probably just be friends. Ever since that day Frank and I have been inseperable. It's like we can read each other's minds. Right now Frank is worried about getting into Lawrence's band. Seems kind of strange to me. Some guy recruiting kids to play in his band? Oh well, Frank is really excited. I just hope he gets in, otherwise he'll be sulking for weeks. It's coming in two more days, I'm going with him when he tries out so I can cheer him on, and boo at all the other kids. Don't think I won't, because I will.
Let me get one thing straight with you. Frank and I are FRIENDS. It's strange how people say things when a girl hangs around with a guy. Everytime someone asks us if we're going out, Frank smiles and says, "We're not going out, but I bang her all the time!"
Of course he means me being his cymbal. He needs to lay off the sugar... People are going to start thinking sick thoughts. Well, actually, they already have. I've been called a 'slut' and 'whore' by the people who misinterpret Frank's meaning of "bang". But it doesn't get to me, I've learned to just laugh it off. And if they bug me more, well, Frank always stands up for me.
The bell rings and it's time for me to go to class. Frank and I have math together. The teacher is sick, so we've got a substitute, and that means Frank and I can move our desks together.
"Excuse me, are you supposed to be sitting like that?" the sub said, pointing at the desks.
"Yeah, we sit like this every day in this class," Frank replies. There are giggles around us as people we know well nod their heads, agreeing with him.
"So, what do you think Ms. uh.. Teacher is sick with?" I whisper to Frank. I know, I should know the teacher's name by now, but its long and confusing and knowing it is unnecessary.
"Herpes." he replies automatically.
"You can't skip work with that. Maybe mono or something."
"Nope, it's herpes. Wanna know how I know that?"
"NO!"
"Alright. Your loss." he replies, grinning.
"My gain," I mutter.
"Heard that"
"Quiet, you two!"
Frank starts playing his imaginary drum kit again with two pencils and making "ch, ch, ch" noises as he 'hit' them. At least this time my head wasn't a piece of the kit. I start to answer the math questions. I'll do half, Frank will do the other half, and then we'll switch and copy each other's answers. This system has worked for many years and has not failed us yet.
The bell rings and it's time for me to go to Art and time for Frank to go to Science. I hate my art class, it's nearly impossible to stay awake.
As we walk out of Math Frank turns to me and asks, "Wanna go to a movie?"
"You mean after school?"
"I mean now."
"No, you mean after school. I'll meet you outside your locker."
"Fine."
It's times like these when I feel like a parent. And it sucks. I could skip, but my parents would ground me for life, and then I wouldn't see Frank again, and then I would get addicted to antidepressants and be known as 'that girl that misses that guy'. Yes, Frank and I do this a lot. Just for the record, neither of us is addicted to antidepressants, and we are known as 'that guy and that girl that are always together'. Alright, we're not always together. When we were nine our parents stopped letting us sleep over at each other's houses. At first we were angry and confused, but then came health class, a.k.a: Sex Ed. Then we weren't confused, just angry. Just to let you know, Frank finally got over that serious cootie infection he was born with last year. We had a party to celebrate. You see, the thing with cooties, if you have them then you go into complete denial. But, when you get over them and someone mentions a party, you either think "HEH! CAKE!" or "HEH! BEER!" Ours was a cake party. We're twelve years old, dumbass.
I hope Frank gets into that band. Otherwise I might be a cymbal for the rest of my life. Actually, even if he does get in, I'll still be a cymbal. So...
I still hope he gets in.
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