By Riiku-Senpai / Striped Orange Socks

I. Julian’s Normally Average Day

Shoving all eight of Sydney Morgan’s books into your backpack in less than three seconds is your new personal best. You feel as though you could skip up the hall, out the door, down your driveway, and all the way to school if you wanted to. Maybe burst into song, if you really felt like it. You open the front door and greet the sunshiney world with as much cheer as you can muster (it’s the ungodly hour of 7:26 am, yet this doesn’t bring you down on this wonderful day).

You notice the small things; the birds chirping along with the song your whistling (though you’re not sure you knew how to whistle before this), the sun shining with the cartoon face happily/creepily grinning down at you, and best of all, you see your friend walking towards you, a hand in the air waving.

“Yo, Juls!”

The music stops abruptly. The birds fall down from the tree, dead. The sun is now trying to burn your skin off. The music’s changing into horror, dark clouds are rolling in; how didn’t the weatherman predict this?

This only means one thing.

Oh, crap.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Whoa, your gay-vibes are off the charts today, buddy ol’ pal! You homos are just so easily pleased.”

“G-g-go away,” you manage to choke out before trying to nudge his arm off your shoulder. He doesn’t move, so you try to push him away. He doesn’t even budge, reminding you how weak your upper body is. And how weak your lower body is. In fact, your entire body is built just like a sissy. You curse loudly.

Landon raises an eyebrow, as if he wasn’t expecting that of you. “Language, Julie, language. There are children in these parts, you know.”

You growl (pretending that you didn’t care what Landon thought of you) and punch his shoulder. He just stares at you. And you both stand there. In silence. As a car drives by, a little boy in the back seat pressing his face against the glass and staring at the two of you, and you know deep down what he’s thinking- “Whoa, look over there! Gaywads!” A plane soars above you. Two old ladies pass by, walking their too-small-to-be-considered-dogs, see you and Landon so close to each other, and giggle something about ‘young love’ and ‘kids these days, always experimenting.’

You wish you could just die.

“I’m not in the mood, Landon,” you spat, shoving the guy away and walking ahead-- fast enough to lose him, but not quite running (because you know it’s ‘uncool’ to run). Landon simply walks next to you at his normal pace; hands in pockets without a care in the world. You know by the smirk played on this face that he’s enjoying himself.

Yeah, you really wish you could just die.

“Not in the mood? What’s biting your queer-scented butt?”

You stop dead in your tracks, Landon stopping as well a few steps ahead. You’re blushing horribly, you just know it, but you’re too shocked to hide your face. Somehow you are able to speak. “Y-you are so gay!” You don’t bother keeping your voice down like a normal person, so your basically disturbing the entire neighborhood.

When your breathing finally gets to normal speed, Landon replies whole-heartedly, a sparkle or two in his eyes, “Thanks, Juls, that really means a lot to me!” Rainbows. You see rainbows in the background behind him. Was that a unicorn? Hopefully you’re just seeing things.

Landon grabs your hand and pulls you off to school, even though halfway there you struggle and kick, and finally tempted to sacrifice your arm for survival. Eventually giving up (what’s worse, you wonder, looking gay or looking gay and crazy?), you are dragged along into your English classroom, the first of many classes you share with the jerk.

Homo comments.
Queer comments.
Gay comments.

You don’t even know what the other half of the comments mean (mostly because your extremely sheltered), but you have a gut feeling that, yes, it has something to do with guys ‘doing it’… whatever that was. You’re still kind of unsure. What do they mean? Doing what?

You eventually find yourself back in your room. You somehow managed to live through it all, and you take a much-needed moment of complete silence to congratulate yourself. Landon has done his rain of terror for the day. The whole ‘queer’-thing died down after the sixty-third time when it got boring and everyone picked on the school geek, Martin, instead. And, finally, you can read your Sydney Morgan books in peace without having to worry about what others think.

… A pretty normal day, actually.



II. Landon’s Definition

Landon. (lan-duh n); n- 1. Age of 17; an easy-going boy who likes to tease shamelessly. 2. A popular male. 3. One with many facial piercing. 4. Someone who forces friendships on people. 5. A pain in the ass.

Landon. (lan-duh n); adj- 1.To be gay without being gay (though the person really could be gay). 2. To be a Jerk. 3. To be hot. 4. To g--

You stop writing. No. NoNoNoNoNo. You jab the backspace key as hard as you can, over and over, until your finger starts to beg for mercy and most of your writing is gone. But you don’t notice. You’re too hung up on the fact that someone like Landon, the Landon, is definitely not hot in your book.

Why did you even write that? Maybe Landon’s gay-rays (the color of rainbows and sparkles—not that you know these things) are rubbing off on you. Of course. He can’t go a day without saying it out in the open ‘JULS IS GAAAAAYYYY’, and they say if you hear something like that enough times…

You try to shake that thought away, figuring it was just the lack of air in the room. Stupid oxygen, playing with your mind again.

You secretly admit, in the back of your mind where that teeny-tiny little voice that you always manage to ignore lays, that Landon is hot. Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you can’t see the attraction of another, right? You realize that Landon is not only good-looking, but he’s gotten a little nicer to you too. Becoming his friend really doesn’t feel all that bad, now that you think about it, and maybe you should compliment him as a sign of gratitude. Or it could be completely and totally gay, and you’re just imagining the change of behavior. The question forms in your brain, and you must face it: should you type it up if it’s the truth? He really is hot.

No, because people will think you really are gay, and that you actually like Landon. But what about all those girls who are head-over-heels for him? Yeah, you reason, they think Landon’s hot. So, maybe counting the female population, you really should put it there. That makes sense.

Besides, it’s not like anyone will be reading your dictionary. Just because this habit of yours is what you look forward to doing after school everyday, and really what you live for, no one will ever know it exists. You sigh at this fact. It just seems pointless if you put it that way.

You continue writing anyway, typing quickly, ‘To be somewhat attractive’, without any second thoughts or hesitation. Good job, you tell yourself. Now you can go on with your life. You wonder briefly why you always have to ruin your fun.

You begin to define Isaiah, your new friend and Landon’s BFF- who knows why?- when that crappy little Landon thought shoves its way through one ear and stops dead in the middle of your brain. Why does Landon have to take up so much of your thoughts? He doesn’t deserve it from all he’s done to you!

But, as your ranting and fussing over all of that, you subconsciously continue to think about him (against your will, of course). What is he doing right now? What did he have for dinner? Does it hurt to get your eyebrow pierced like that?

On and on, you keep asking yourself stupid questions you really don’t care about. Honestly, does it matter what kind of oatmeal flavor he enjoys? But you continue, despite trying to rid yourself from the devil named LANDON.

You close your laptop. It’s no use; Isaiah’s definition will have to wait. You’re way too distracted by… what is it? You wonder, Landon’s definition- or worse- Landon himself? You have the urge to slap yourself. Bed, you finally decide, is the almighty cure for everything. Though you doubt it heals brain defects.

Seriously, thinking about Landon right before bed can’t be good for you.