A/N: OracleVortex: I'm glad you liked it. 8D I've only done a journal once before, but that was for Social Studies. So I'm a little nervous.


Warnings or whatever: AU in case you haven't guessed already. Some of these places are real and some have the same name as real places. I personally apologize to Cleveland Heights High School for making you guys sound cool. XD I probably would think you are, but since I'm not there…leave me to my assumptions. I also apologize in advance for any racial slurs. I was raised to say very racial and (unintentionally) offending things. Hey, I'm black. We talk about every one and every thing. See? Case and point. Rated M for safety's sake. I haven't really planned this out. Homosexual thoughts and activities.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot. J.K. Rowling (the 7th book better be good, bitch! I am not happy with you) owns the characters that you recognize. Others you don't, I own. And I'll just give Harry the gun and see what he does with it. –evil grin-


(Sat.) August 26, 2006 - (1:30pm) I must be really bored to be writing in here this early. There's nothing on TV at the moment (I'd rather shoot myself than watch The 40-Year-Old Virgin again. Though it was pretty damn funny.) except maybe The Princess Bride. And maybe Spongebob, but I'm just not…up for it. Oh, wait! I have a book! Robert Cormier, you are a God! Maybe I could read The Rag and Bone Shop; I wonder where it is. Does Sirius like Robert Cormier? I'll ask him on Monday.

…Okay, how sad is it that I have nothing else to do today other than rant about Robert Cormier, even if he's one of the best authors in the history of the universe? Nicky won't answer her cell and all I know about Sirius is how gorgeous he looks, his name, and that he really likes Marilyn Manson.(Notice I add that I don't know his number. Sadness.) Personally, I'm not too fond of him. He's way too creepy for me. I like stuff that doesn't make me want to go crying for my mother. Like My Chemical Romance, The Used, They Would Be Giants. TWBG is just my source of happy music. And Weird Al. Who can possibly be sad when they're playing? Oooh, conflicting emotions! I'll play Weird Al on my MP3 while reading The Rag and Bone Shop while I'm at the library. Maybe I'll see someone there that will snap me out of it.

-Later that day – (9:13pm) This is getting seriously creepy. I'm seeing Sirius everywhere and I'm not just imagining it! I mean, I didn't talk to him to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but I swear it was him! I'm absolutely sure of it. …Alright, maybe I'm not. But if you asked him where he was today…he'd probably lie. Shit. He may be smart enough to be in English Lit, but that doesn't mean he likes reading anything. A guy that beautiful can like whatever he wants, I don't care. But I do wish I knew a guy that I could talk to, you know? Nicky's awesome, she's the greatest thing in the world. But she's female and doesn't completely…understand the male psyche, no matter how man-ish she acts/looks (and boy does she make a hot guy). Argh. No, Remus. No guy comfort. Remember Michael. Michael, Michael, Michael.

Hell. I don't want to think about him anymore. I'm going to play Kingdom Hearts until I pass out. I can feel my brain melting already…

(Mon.) August 28, 2006 – (11:24pm) Can I die now? Just swallow me up in the river of humiliation and carry me out to the sea of embarrassment.

Ms. Thompson counted us off into pairs to discuss the story we were meant to read over the weekend, The Fall of the House of Usher. I was surprised and more than a little disgusted by how many juniors hadn't read that story. Shit, I've read so much Edgar Allen Poe and looked him up so many times, I could write a five page report on him with my eyes closed. I mean that, I'm not just gloating. If I tried, I could do it. But I don't want to try.

Anyway, I bet I should have been able to guess way ahead of time, just because God hates me. Like that Simple Plan song 'God Must Hate Me'. Ready? Just to torture myself for future reference…. Sirius Black. I should have known. Is it just me or does my life have way too many coincidences to be healthily normal? I mean that, someone must be planning something because this is just too convenient. C'mon, bring on the lightning; smite me, O Mighty Smiter! (Gotta love Bruce Almighty.)

But, yes. We were talking and he just…kept zoning out. I asked him, "did you even read the story?"
He nodded. "Yeah." (His voice is so sexy!) "I read it. Some guy goes to visit his friend with a crazy-ass sister and the house sinks into the ground, but the first guy survives it to tell us about it. Am I right or left?"
The BFG. He's had to have read The BFG. "Right." I nodded. But instead of taking this obvious clue to 'stop talking about such a long stupid story you dumbass', I keep going. Near the end of the period we shift over to how completely and utterly awesome Spencer's is. Right before the bell rings we agree to meet there after school tomorrow just to browse and be idiots in a public place.

Not a date. That's okay. I don't know him that well, yet.

But it's close enough for fucking rock and roll!

(Tues.) August 29, 2006 - I don't think God hates me.

I know God hates me.

Sirius and I met up in front of Barnes and Noble (that's the only place you can come even within a foot of the door with a cigarette) and wandered Richmond mall for a while. We slowly made out way to Spencer's, but we just had to stop at Claire's, Remus, because they have such girly things to make fun of! I want to block that from my mind. Why don't I just say that Sirius + pink and purple boa + stolen blue lipgloss straight from the store ($4.96 down the drain…) something really scary.

If he's gay, he's the kind that scares me.

But that's not why God hates me.

We got to Spencer's and I was searching for the sex toys (I'm a curious cat, okay?) when I saw him. I've mentioned his name enough that I don't even need to say it, just know it was him. That sonuvabitch bastard that wasn't even fit to lick my ass. I ducked over to where the posters were; hoping the piles of junk on the shelves hid me. Nope, wrong again. He found me and grabbed my arm tightly. I guess that was his way of saying 'hi, how're you doing? I'm sorry for being an asshole and screwing up your life.'

"Hi," I mutter.
"Remus." It's like he's rolling my name around his mouth, trying to see how it would fucking taste. "It's been a while."

I pray for something, anything, to come and save me. If I turn around and look at him, I'm done. "A long while. Sad, I'd hoped it would be longer." Deep down, like center of the earth deep down, I know he's not as cocky as he seems, the jerk. It's all an act. Just another mask in order to fool us all. Unless the vulnerability was a mask, too.

But lo and behold! My rescuer, the handsome and charming Sirius Black returns from where the shirts are located and intervenes. "Hey, kid. Will you let go of him like that? You're not intimidating anyone – this isn't the mob." Michael let me go and I could have melted. No more talking than necessary, yay! "You want out of here, Remus?"
"Yeah. …Yeah." As we leave the store, I just wave my hand behind me and don't look back. "Bye, Michael."
He doesn't answer. But Sirius gives me this funny look. "Who was that guy?"
I shrug. "An old classmate."

He doesn't respond.

I said God hates me.

Know why?

Because I know I'll be seeing more that bastard again.