I'm Gonna Be Famous One Day (4)

"Miss Brooks? Do you think you could answer number 4 for us?" asked my math teacher one day in early November.
I was shaken from my daydreaming thoughts of the silver screen. "Um... I'm sorry I didn't get that one," I responded solemnly. I never understood my algebra homework therefore I never had the right answer. You'd think that my teacher would be clued in on that by now.
As we started taking notes on the new material, I started scribbling hearts in the margins of my notebook paper, something I hadn't done since my last crush. Jack had utterly crushed me by going out with another girl and then coming to me and apologizing for hurting me. I dropped him faster than a hot potato. It was no use for my broken heart to dwell on someone who would only continue to hurt me.
James was probably what I needed. A fresh start with someone new, someone who I could talk to. I had liked Jack a lot but James was quickly replacing him in my heart.

The rest of the day continued that way, me doodling hearts on all my papers, singing cutesy love songs. If I was being my usual self I would think I'd gone insane. I never sing because I know my voice is terrible! Yet there I was singing "I Remember You" like it was going out of style.
James noticed sadly enough. He was snickering because I was humming. "You got a problem with Skid Row?" I asked.
"No," he replied. Thanks for your wonderful conversational skills, James. "You just... you never hum... or sing."
"I can stop if you want." I figured it was bothering him.
"Well it means you're happy, so be happy. Don't let me stop you." I smiled. I some how knew that he'd understand. Whether he knew I was humming because of him or not.
Then I noticed he was flipping something in his hand. Perfectly flipping it over the back of his fingers, the way I tried to do with pencils. It was a guitar pick I figured out. An orange one.
"I've always wanted a guitar pick," I said. He looked confused.
"Why?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Just to wear one on a necklace. It would be cool."
"Well, they happen to cost money," he said jokingly. "Go get yourself one for 25 cents." I smiled. Minutes later I had already forgotten that I had mentioned a guitar pick at all.