001|Crazy Kinda Love|Joe Jonas
Chapter 1 : 001|Crazy Kinda Love|Joe Jonas
This is not the type of story I normally write. I was thinking about this a lot one night, and I just got up and wrote the first few parts. Message me, please. I'd LOVE feedback.
I normally day dreamed during AP Latin. I usually got my assignment of the day, started it, then gave it up as hopeless, promising myself I'd do it when I got home. This left me with at least 40 minutes of nothing to do. My eyes usually wandered to my left, where a boy named Joe Jonas sat across the room. My last name being Young means that alphabetical order sucks, and that I'll normally sit near a Williams, and never a Jonas.
I talked to Joe once, when I was doing my homework during lunch and dropped a pencil, which rolled in his direction. He picked it up, and I went to his table to recieve it, saying thanks before heading back to mine. I know he thought nothing of it, while I nearly died inside. That was over a year ago, and I haven't said a word to him since.
Not that I fit the profile of the type of girl he normally dates. While my name is Kendra, he goes for Ashleys and Kimberlys. While they spray on tans and dye their hair the lightest of colors, I've got dark brown hair, and the darkest tan of them all, which all comes with being African American.
My friends don't know about the way I stare at him. The way I laugh to myself when I hear him tell a joke on the other side of the class. The way I frown when he wraps his arm around the latest Ashley. My best friend, Sandra (who is a Smith, which means she sits in note-passing distance), doesn't even know.
Sandra and I met in 3rd grade, when she got upset with me for accidently stealing her gold crayon. I thought it was mine, and she confronted me about it. I gave it back, not wanting to cause a problem. It wasn't long before I found mine under my desk, and apologized for thinking hers was mine.
On this same day, as I sat in Latin class, I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. We weren't supposed to have them at school, so I got it out all stealth-like, trying to see what caused the alert. Somewhere in the process, I dropped it on the ground, causing it to play my ringtone loudly. This caught everyone's attention, including Joe's and that of Mrs. Gonzelda, the Latin teacher.
I ended up with detention for that afternoon, and no cell phone for the rest of the week. I waited impatiently for 2:00 when school got out, so that I could go ahead and get the sure-to-be-boring detention over. I couldn't help but realize that this was my third real detention. This was a good thing, for other seniors average about 6 a year. Of course they are for cooler things than dropping a phone, like setting off smoke bombs or purposely oveflowing toilets.
I got to detention, and by way of miracle, Joe Jonas was sitting in the front, looking down at a sheet of paper. When I closed the door to the room, he looked up, and began smirking. I was sure he remembered what I'd done to land myself there. What was more interesting to me was how a perfect citizen of Westmont High like Joe had gotten mixed in with the worst of us.
I sat at the back of the room. I normally did anyways in class, so I thought detention wouldn't be any different. The only difference between detention and a study hall is that you can't talk. Since I would have had no one to talk to anyway (thanks to the fact that only about 10 people had detention that day), I decided to finish the Latin homework I was yet to complete. Upon finishing, there were only a few minutes left until 4:00, so I dragged out the process of putting my books into my bag, and by the time I finished, I was free to go.
I slung my bag onto my right shoulder as I begin to leave the room. Since Joe was packing his things into his bag in the front of the same row as me, I was aware I would have to squeeze past him on my way out. I figured if I turned sideways, there would be enough room for both of us, maybe barely touching. In that event, I'd say "excuse me" anyway. I put my plan into action, but I'd forgotten one thing- my backpack.
It hit Joe on the side, causing him to stagger forward, and put is right hand infront of him to keep from completely falling face-first into the desk. Unfortunately, where he put his hand also happened to be the same place that there was a pencil sticking up out of his bag.
I heard a sharp intake of breath before a loud "Shit!" as I moved past him. I turned around, apologizing profusely.
"I am so sorry," I said slowly examining the damage I'd done. He'd pulled the pencil out of his hand, but left behind was a thick piece of lead barely sticking out of his palm. Joe looked away from his hand and up at me.
"It's okay. Do you have longer fingernails than me?" he asked. I thought it was an odd question from someone whose chances of like lead poisoning were increasing by the second. I looked down at my hands, then at his. I could tell he was a nail-biter.
"I think so. Why?" I responded.
"Okay, I need you," Joe pointed to me,"to pull this," using his left hand to point at his right,"out of my hand," Joe said calmly. I looked around for a teacher- they were supposed to be standing around to help with situations like these. There wasn't one in the room- he had left when all the other students did. Joe and I were alone.
"Okay." I dropped my bag on the ground and moved closer to Joe, grabbing his hand, inspecting it.
"I beg you, be careful," he said, grinding his teeth. I nodded in response. I held his right hand in my right, with his palm up. as soon as I got my left hand near the lead, he pulled away.
"What are you-"
"I think it's gonna hurt really bad," Joe said, cutting my sentence off.
"It won't if you don't pull away like that," I said, grabbing his hand again. "Close your eyes or something, and I'll count to three."
He turned his head, looking out of the fifth floor window into the streets of Manhattan.
"One, two," and I pulled. I normally hated when people did that to me, like when I got shots or had teeth pulled, but I was sure that when I got to three, Joe would flench again.
Joe looked away from the window to his hand. I tiny drop of bright red blood was oozing out of his wound.
"Thanks, Kendra," he said, looking away from his palm. My heart almost stopped- I wondered how he knew my name.
"No problem, Joe," I said, picking my bag up off the floor, and turning away from him. All of it was my fault in the first place, but I didn't mention that.
I turned to the door, making my exit.
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