A Lame Journal of a Wantbe Artist - 1. Chapter 1- Yellow Cow

What do I believe in? Okay...

Okay, I believe in...

This is a stupid assignment.

Okay, let's brainstorm.

So the other day, my best friend Big Eyes and I were walking to class. The first week of seventh grade. First period.

We are the bestest friends in the world. Big Eyes is the most...kindest, sweetness, most amazing person I've ever met. She's tall and skinny, but not in an athletic way. Big brown eyes. Long brown hair. Total dork. Mega goodie. But as I said bestest friends in the world.

I brushed the small red steak into the rest of my long black hair as saw her staring at this blue-eyed boy opening his locker. He was also tall though he looked more athletic. Kind of tan. Blonde hair. Pretty much like a picture of a baseball player.

Baseball looked over at us. Especially at Big Eyes.

It was like a romantic comedy from the start. She stared at him petrified. He on the other hand just smiled at her.

It kind of bothered me how he smiled at her. It kind of bothered me how he looked at her. He just looked up at her with his boring shit blue eyes and sweet cheesy ass smile.

Whoa, where did that meanness come from?

I watched them stared at each other, it looked like a sweet moment.

I got on my toes and tugged at her shoulder, "So where's our first class?"

"History. Room 454"

I was so happy when I found out Big Eyes and I were going to have the same homeroom. At least I was going to know somebody.

***

"So I have a special project you guys this year. A writing project." said my new History teacher, Mr. Big Bird.

I'm calling him that because of his bushy curly black hair and his big, bird-like nose.

"Boring." I bit in.

To be honest, I tuned him out. I could already tell that Mr. Big Bird was just like history, old (like 30 something), boring, and not relative to me.

Then guess what. Baseball walks in.

Big Eyes once again looked up at him all dopey eyed. And he sweetly smiled at her sitting down behind her.

"Today's homework," He said to turn the attention back to him, "Something you believe so strongly enough, I would fight for it. Just write a two page essay and then give a short speech about it."

"Well, I believe in no homework," I said to him.

"Well um." he pointed to me trying to think of my name.

"Call me George. And I'm not doing it."

Mr. Big Bird narrowed his eyes at me, "Well it's your grade."

I already hate History class.

***

I climbed the stairs to my very low state New York apartment, to find the cardboard box by the door. See every few weeks or so, someone leaves a box of donated clothes by my door. I have no idea who or where is it coming from. I dragged the box inside with me.

"Mom, I'm home." I jokingly called out.

Of course, she wasn't home. I always hated the apartment so quiet. But I was used to it. I just dragged the box to my room.

I really do have a nice room. Soft yellow conformer set with shiny white pillows. White dressers with red handles. Christmas lights hanging on the red brick. You know, my mom designed it. She really did. A couple of years ago she got a Christmas bonus and used it to redo my room. She would be a great interior designer if she wanted to. I got give her credit for something every once in a while.

I threw my backpack into the sea of lost souls (aka my desk) and plopped down on my bed.

"Bed, you understand me."

I sat back up and started looking through the box. It always had the coolest stuff. Today I found a red scarf, a cameo jacket, and a pair of jean shorts. Then, oh my god you won't believe this, I pulled out a rainbow leopard print...bra. A real bra. And it almost fit me too, I couldn't stop laughing. But then I kind of got a little grossed out that someone donated their bra to me so I put back in the box and looked at more shirts. I even set aside a top with pink roses on it for Big eyes.

Big eyes. Class. School. The homework.

"It should be easy right?" I asked myself, " What do I care about to so strongly enough I would fight for it?"

I took out a spiral and a pencil.

What do I care about to so strongly enough I would fight for it?

Okay, something I believe in so strongly enough I would fight for is...

I rolled my eyes. Even when I try to do the right thing, I can't.

Instead, I deiced to get up to check out the mystery drawing. See, form my window I could see into this person's apartment. Not in a creepy away though. All I could see was the drawing. She, I for some reason always assumed it was a she. She had been working on it for a while. And she added something new to it every day. It looked like she was sketching New York. Buildings. Street lights. An outline of a yellow taxi.

Lately, she had been working on the sky. Shading it top to bottom, dark to light. It's really pretty. I wish I could draw something like that.

But I can't even do my homework.

***

I went too far today.

"Today we will see what everyone believes in." He pointed to me, "George."

God, did this guy ever listen?

"I..."

"I'm going first. I always go first." I heard my other friend, Turtle, called out.

Turtle had to be the teacher's pet. Yup, first to volunteer since I met him last year in the 6th grade. He was pretty much the image of a super nerdy white boy form an 80's movie. And wore turtle neck sweaters.

I honestly had no idea what I was going to do.

"May I go to the restroom?" I blurted out.

Mr. Big Bird nodded as Turtle stood up in front of the class.

"I believe in valuing our education," he stated, "that we shouldn't take our opportunities for granted."

I stepped out of the classroom. And started walking down the yellow hallway.

"Why didn't I just do the homework?" I said to myself.

Come on tell me you've never talked to yourself when you're alone in a hallway. I passed through several classrooms, not really sure where I was going anymore. Truth is I really didn't know the bathroom was, but I kind of like walking down the hall alone.

"I was going to do. Really." I went on, "Really I was but..."

I took another look at the yellow walls, "I have to go back. Maybe I can wing it. What do I believe in?"

I passed the bathroom, "I don't believe in anything I guess. Come on, what should I do?"

I passed a fire alarm.

"Wait." I stopped and turned around.

I considered walking away. I really did.

Did I think about the long term? No. Did I ever think anything though? No.

I pulled it.

It was like hell broke loose.

The alarm banged through the halls of the school. The sparkles went off and were beeping although with the blaring fire alarm. Doors flying open. Teachers and students running out. Crowds stamping to the exits. Rained on students were screaming. Panicked teachers screaming louder. Moving in fast forward. Everything became blurred.

One blurry figure started growing larger. I blinked and Mr. Big Bird came into focus.

I looked to see my hand was still on the fire alarm.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't speak. There was no way to justified this.

"George? What are you doing?"

I turned to see Big Eyes staring at me, eyes wide and mouth open. Turtle stood next to her shaking his head.

Mr. Big Bird backed away and started running around the whole school to tell everyone that there wasn't a real fire.

"What are you doing?" Big Eyes repeated.

"You are in so much trouble." Turtle followed.

"I...just wanted to get out of..."

Big Eyes step forward putting her hand on my shoulder, "Well I'm here for you."

Baseball walked by us refusing to make eye contact.

Mr. Big Bird came back, drenching wet and fire up.

"Miss Rivera, the principal wants to see you."

Big Eyes took my hand, "I'm just there to stand by my girl. Real friends stand by each other when they're in trouble."

His cold eyes shifted to her, "You missed the chance to stand by your girl. Real friends don't let each other get in trouble in the first place."

He took a breath.

"Can I please talk to Miss Rivera alone?"

Big Eyes removed her hand and left with Turtle.

"Do you have any idea how selfish and that was?" He started ripping on me.

And I'm standing there thinking, this guy really doesn't care about me. He doesn't really care about my life. He just wants me to sit down, shut up, and do his dumb homework. All Mr. Big Bird cares about is homework. It's like I just get all this anger inside of me.

And all this made me yelled, "Nobody is home to help me with my homework."

I was kind of surprised myself. I don't think I ever thought that before.

I walked away without even caring about his reaction.

***

Big Eyes and I rode the subway home.

"Hey...so if your dad says we can't be friends anymore, it's okay."

"What are you talking about? My dad wouldn't do that," she said.

Big Eyes's dad, Mr. Harris, doesn't liked me.

"He hates me."

"No, he doesn't."

"He hates me. And I can't blame him."

"George..."

"I'm horrible for you. I' m trouble. I'm going down and I don't want to take you down with me." I said.

She placed her on the pole right on top of mine, "But we're best friends. We're supposed to old cat ladies together, remember? I love you."

After she said that something happened.

She looked like herself but suddenly...there was...like...a rainbow around her. And I felt like I was eating marshmallows. And I saw a bunny. I know that sounds totally crazy and I wouldn't believe myself. But I saw bunnies. All around her. Rainbows and bunnies. My head was light, my stomach got heavy. Big Eyes then took our hands off the pole and cross them. For some reason, holding her hand was different. It was...warmer...and my body....felt weird.

I didn't say anything of course. I couldn't explain it to myself; much less explain it to Big Eyes. I'm starting to think there's going a lot of things I 'm not going to talk to Big Eyes about.

But in that I found something to I think I believe in.

Wow, I can't believe I actually wrote all this. Five pages, more than Mr. Big Bird said. This isn't my homework though and it's not like I was planning on turning in anything anyway.

This will be for me. I guess this turning into a diary thing. Oh god, I'm a girl with a diary, shit that's so Disney channel. But I'm the only one who's ever going to be seeing it. It's just a lame journal.