You Know What They Do To Girls Like Us In Highschool
Art Class More Like Spot The Gays
FRANKIE'S POV
Frank took art class for the credit.
She lacked any talent or motivation in art, but anything is better than study hall, and art kids are pretty chill. So of course, the obvious thing to do was ditch Ray and Bob in study hall and go to art, right?
Fatal mistake.
The literal first day of the art program, a week into her Junior year, Frankie was at least ten minutes late and out of breath. She practically sprinted across the room to drop her bag at the desk in the back corner of the classroom. After a good five minutes of trying to figure out what the teacher was talking about as she slowly caught her breath, Frankie turned to observe the other occupant of the, naturally, two-person desk. The chick was pale as all hell- paler than Frankie, and that was saying something. She had somewhat messy black hair, barely tucked behind her ears, and was watching Frankie with a startled and mildly terrified expression. Moving on from her (admittedly cute) face to inspect her clothes, Frankie noted a Green Day shirt, which was adorned with several pins for horror movies that Frankie vaguely recognized. The girl's shoes were black converse high tops (naturally) barely held together by duct tape, safety pins and the occasional badly sewn seam repairs. All in all, Frankie's amazing instinct of 'sit next to whoever's in the back and hope they're not a dickhead' was working marvelously.
GEE'S POV
There is a very flustered, very cute and very gay looking punk chick at my lab desk. She's staring at me like I just popped out of the ground or something. This is what happens when you let your little brother skip out on you the first day of the art class you were supposed to take together- attractive females in Black Flag shirts eye-grope you after practically breaking into a classroom.
Frank took art class for the credit.
She lacked any talent or motivation in art, but anything is better than study hall, and art kids are pretty chill. So of course, the obvious thing to do was ditch Ray and Bob in study hall and go to art, right?
Fatal mistake.
The literal first day of the art program, a week into her Junior year, Frankie was at least ten minutes late and out of breath. She practically sprinted across the room to drop her bag at the desk in the back corner of the classroom. After a good five minutes of trying to figure out what the teacher was talking about as she slowly caught her breath, Frankie turned to observe the other occupant of the, naturally, two-person desk. The chick was pale as all hell- paler than Frankie, and that was saying something. She had somewhat messy black hair, barely tucked behind her ears, and was watching Frankie with a startled and mildly terrified expression. Moving on from her (admittedly cute) face to inspect her clothes, Frankie noted a Green Day shirt, which was adorned with several pins for horror movies that Frankie vaguely recognized. The girl's shoes were black converse high tops (naturally) barely held together by duct tape, safety pins and the occasional badly sewn seam repairs. All in all, Frankie's amazing instinct of 'sit next to whoever's in the back and hope they're not a dickhead' was working marvelously.
GEE'S POV
There is a very flustered, very cute and very gay looking punk chick at my lab desk. She's staring at me like I just popped out of the ground or something. This is what happens when you let your little brother skip out on you the first day of the art class you were supposed to take together- attractive females in Black Flag shirts eye-grope you after practically breaking into a classroom.
.
10/25/15