A Touch Overated

I'm bored.
I sunk lower into my chair, thanking what I believed to be a nonexistent God that we were able to choose our own seats. Wait for it... Aim... Aim... Fire!
A crumpled white paper sailed through the air and hit my best friend of four years, Rose. She broke out of her daze and glared at me, picking the paper off of the floor.
"Feel free to paint whatever you like. Canvases are at the back of the room."
Conversation broke out wildly as everyone made their way to the back to pick up the cheap canvases.
"I'm bored? That's it?" Rose asked, picking up a canvas almost as big as she was.
"I'm only saying what I feel." I said dramatically, swinging a canvas back and forth in my hands.
"I still can't believe that you made me take art."
"Would you rather have taken music?" I asked with a smirk, "Show off those magical skills of the string?"
She glared at me before dipping her fingers into her paints and attempting to color my face.
"Shove off." I glared, swatting away her colorful hands.
She stuck her tongue out and instead opted for painting her own face, dragging her fingers down her cheeks.
"You're insane."
"There's a difference between being insane and having a mild capability to be institutionalized."
"Same difference. Either way, art is a helluva lot better than any other classes we could have..... Rose?" The mentioned friend was no longer paying attention to me or the handprints on her cheeks, instead opting for drooling at the boy standing in front of us with a grin.
"Mind if I sit with the sane ones?" He was like a cheshire cat with the way he was grinning so much. Especially at Rose.
Not that she minded the eye contact, of course.
"Mmmm." Rose mumbled, unable to say anything coherent.
"She says of course. Sorry about that, she's a little brain dead. I'm sure that her ability to form words will come back in a few weeks. Sentences is a whole other issue, though."
"Hey!"
"Sooner than I thought! Maybe she'll manage two syllables next time."
"I'm Rose." She managed to say, her eyes just two big stars of pathetic puppy love.
"I'm Adam." He managed to grin even more, if possible, and the two were unable to look anywhere else than at each other.
You know, I think those two are hopelessly in crush.
"And I'm Anne. Both of you stop staring before I'm forced to use the water bowl for your drool."
That snapped them out of it.
They both went back to their blank canvases, withering in comparison to my mess of blue splatters.
"As if you would use your water bowl at all. You never clean up anything."
"That's because I don't have a little helper monkey to clean up for me."
Adam raised a brow in question and Rose blushed.
"Stay at home mom." She explained, her mom in actuality doing everything but stay at home. She was a rich girl who tried to hide the fact that her stereotype was stuck up bitch. I was the eccentric girl born from hippies-turned-corporate.


*******

Advanced Physical Fitness. One of the few classes that I didn't have with Rose.
It may be a little secret, but I was an athlete. I don't know where I got it from, since my parents both suck with the whole hand eye coordination, but any sport I tried, I just got.
Like Rose, with her cello skills.
And we were both ashamed. Horribly, horribly ashamed.
I, for one, did not want to be a jock in any way, shape, or form. It would melt my brain! And then I would be known as the stereotypical airheads that rely far more on brawn rather than brain.
And then Rose would be known as the artsy musical dork and would be taunted far more than the nobody we both were now. Well, she was the nobody. I was the weirdo.
Oh, holy mother of abs.
We were running the mile right now, meaning I was bored. And that the guy who just passed me was using the hem of his shirt to wipe his face.
This may have been my first day, but this was the best high school in the world.
Crap. Ow, that hurt like a bitch.
Apparently I swooned. And fell flat on my.... Elbow.
I brushed away the pain and managed to sit up. This is going to cut back on my mile time.
"Fell for me already?" He smirked, looking down on me and offering a hand.
"Probably fell from the shock of that flab pack you've got going on. I never thought someone in advanced PE would let themselves go during the summer."
All he did was smirk, apparently confident in his abs of steel. Either that or he had a strange inferiority complex.
And then he ran away, paying no attention to me stumbling to my feet despite the pain. Not that I minded the view, of course.
I might happen to lag behind from the pain.

"Parkson!"
"5:10."
"Romero!"
"5:35."
"Rubano!"
"6:10."
"Making a playdate with Greenleaf, are we? I expect a better time from both of you next time."
Rubano, the man with the best body God could give him, sauntered up to me and draped an arm around my little Freshmen shoulders.
"But she tripped, sir. It was my duty to help her up."
"Oh yeah right. You just smirked at me and ran away. I was hobblin' the whole way and I still got a better time than you."
A mix of 'burn's and 'oh's rang out through the exhausted teens.
"Well, I was afraid that if I touched you, you'd melt. I mean, you did trip at the sight of me."
"I tripped because my body was unable to function at the horror that was yours."
Hands down. I won.