(before you read this, you should know that Tyson is MY fã character who is pretty open towards his feelings to Isabella. If you wish to use him, PLEASE. ASK.)
Once again, this is Isabella's ~POV~
As I sat there in the musky classroom, the only thing that gradually got my attention was the sighing of my peers. Glancing around the room, the bored-looking red-head was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his right hand. His elbow kept on the school desk, his gaze was set sternly on the piece of paper that was spread across in front of him. I could see pencil marks, probably a sketch for a new invention or somewhat. That made me smile. He was always so ever smart, so talented, so. . . cute. I've been holding on to this crush since I was seven. Man, that is seven years! I really need to mover on. . . My thoughts were protruded when our loud, crackly Algebra teacher slapped her hand on my desk. Her thin, crooked body was lingering over my desk, and her face was as wrinkly and white as a fat Charapay puppy.
"Isabella?" she rasped in a croaky voice. "Are you paying attention?"
"Y-yes."
"Then what did I just say?"
I gave her a smart remark. "Oh, that's easy. You just said, 'Isabella? Are you listening? What did I just say?'"
I noticed Phineas looking up with a sheepish smile, a laugh about to burst out any moment.
Our Algebra teacher raised an eyebrow and glared at me. "Shut your trap, little missy," she scolded. "Before I get Principle Low to come and have a talk with you."
I blinked and leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "Sheesh, Mrs. Birk," I muttered. "Calm down, I was just kidding."
I could had sworn she growled. Our fifty-something-year-old teacher had just growled at me! I bit back a hasty comment. What are you, a bear? As much as I wanted to say that, I held it back with all my might.
Focusing back on the problem, my mind drifted off again. It wandered through and through, searching in and out of places I wanted to be. I traveled to Paris, standing on topo, início of the Eiffel Tower with wide open arms, taking in the breeze that ruffled my hair. Then I was at the lake, where all my friends were swimming in the deep blue water and laughing about. I was just about to visit the tall evergreen mountains of Virginia, when Mrs. Birk had come over to me again, not too pleased.
"Answer. . .?" she asked, angrily staring at me.
I blinked about six times, waking up from my daydreams. "What?" I felt stupid and confused.
Mrs. Birk sighed helplessly. "I might have to have a conference with your parents," she whispered.
"I only have a mother right now,"
"Well, then me and your mother will have a talk," just on purpose, she raised her voice: "You have a low D in this class, Isabella. We're going to have to fix that."
I heard several slight gasps. Whipping around to the back of the classroom, I glared. I glared at all the faces(besides Phineas, of course) evilly, telling them with my eyes to shut up before I hurt them. I simply just shrugged it off. "So?" I retorted. "It's not like the career I want involves math. . ."
"But college will." I thought I saw Mrs. Birk flash a crazed smile, but I couldn't tell because she walked away too quickly.
Being glad I was in seventh period and it was almost over, I dazed off again. Mrs. Birk must have given up with me for the day, because the sino rang without her calling on me again.
Just as I was leaving the classroom, she called me in. I didn't respond, I just walked quicker and out into the hallway.
"Isabella!" she shouted, stepping out of the doorway. "Come here!" Her voice was high with anger.
I simply ignored her.
"Geeze, Isabella, what were you thinking?"
Phineas came up to me, a wide mass of shock on his face. "You know Mrs. Birk! She'll give you detention just for passing a note."
"So? I hate her. I don't want to be in her class."
"Nice," he commented, giving me a fake thumbs-up. "You really pulled a mover back there. I'm surprised she didn't slap you with a ruler!"
I laughed. "You idiot," I joked. "You know that's forbidden." Then I smiled. "Though, I wish she did. . .then that cow would be gone for good!"
Phineas jabbed me in the side with his elbow, a 'don't call her that!' look on his face.
"Standing up for the hag, are you, now?" I challenged, a slight giggle to my tone. Before Phineas could say something again, I began to sing a tune that made him smile: "Joy to the world, the teacher's dead. We BQQ'd her head. What happened to her body? We chucked down the potty! And round and round it goes, and round and round it goes. The old, crippled teacher is dead. Happy?"
Phineas chuckled. "Wow," He sighed. "There really is something wrong with you."
I shrugged. "What ever floats your boat, Phin."
Once on the bus and on our way home, I chose a assento behind Phineas, because him and Ferb were sitting together. Then I realized who had sat behind me.
His finger twiddled at my hair, obviously trying to agitate me. My eye twitched as I grabbed the hand from behind me and bended it the way a hand is not supposed to bend; backward.
"Ow! What the fuc-"
I turned around to face the brown-haired boy. "Do you need something, Tyson?" I demanded hastily. "Is there a problem you would like me to, let's say, fix for you?"
His blazing blue eyes burned into mine. He was holding the hand I had bent, staring at it with wide eyes. "You're strong," He commented, trying to be nice. "I think you sprained it."
"Leave me the hell alone and get out of my life." With that, I faced the other direction and crossed my arms. I knew he was still looking at me. I could feel it. I narrowed my eyes and swung my backpack around, whamming him in the face. He laughed. He laughed What a retard! Smirking with an evil smile, I took out a newly sharpened pencil, and waited. Waited until his hands came up again. I was fully focused, just challenging the teen to mess with me again.
He flicked at my hair. "Heya, Izzy, what'cha doing?"
That got me angry. For one, I hated when anyone(besides Phineas or my mom) called me Izzy, and he roubou my catchphrase. I stabbed the pencil into his hand. I did. I had to.
Tyson snatched the pencil out of my hand and threw it. It hit the bus driver in the back of her head. She glared at Tyson and pointed to the very front row. "Sit," she demanded. "Now."
Groaning, Tyson lazily grabbed his black backpack and moved to the front. Ha, I thought. Serves you right.
por now the bus had started to move. I leaned back in my assento with a sigh. My gaze traveled to the window, and I kept my eyes outside of it, watching the world fly by.
"Hey, Isabella," Phineas turned around and looked as if he had been laughing. "Look at Tyson. He's bleeding."
I sat up in shock. "What?" I gasped. I glanced at the hand I had stabbed. Sure enough, there was blood, and a lot of it.
I put my hand to my mouth. "Oops," I whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt him."
You did that?" Phineas asked. "Nice! Teaches him to stay away from you after what he did in Middle School-"
I slapped my hand to his mouth. "No one must know!" I whispered through gritted teeth. "I'll get him for that one day, just not today."
Grasping my hand gently and setting it down, he laid it on the topo, início of the seat, his hand still on topo, início of mine. I smiled sweetly and blinked like a cute, little girl.
I guessed Tyson saw us holding hands, because he chucked a wad of paper at us with composição literária on it. Phineas took it and unraveled it, leitura the words carefully. He read it aloud: You'd better stay away from her. She's mine.
Staring defiantly at the brown-haired boy, Phineas flipped it over and wrote on the back. He threw it back, only harder, and it hit Tyson in the face. Tyson picked it up and read it, his eyes glinting with hatred.
"What did you write?" I asked, leaning in.
"Nothing," Phineas leaned back in the seat. "Absolutely nothing."
I eyed him suspiciously. "Then why did he look so mad?"
Phineas smiled, obviously hiding something. "I dunno."
I nudged him with my hand. "Tell me, Phineas! Please?" I gave him those cachorro, filhote de cachorro eyes.
"Why don't I answer for you?" Tyson shouted, tossing the paper back. Ferb caught it and opened it up, handing it to Phineas, who read it. "I never knew you cared about her, you sure don't show it. She loves you, man."
I bit my lip, my pupils shrinking. I wanted to tell him, not the boy I hated!
Then I saw what Phineas had wrote: Too late. Find another. He also wrote a PS that said, I'm pretty sure you'll never find a girl as perfect as Isabella, though. She's one of a kind, one in a million. **** off. Phineas actually wrote that four-letter word, I just chose not to say it.
I felt touched. I never knew he felt that way about me. "Phineas," I poked him softly in the back. "I just read what you said." I smiled. "Thank you."
Phineas smiled back. "I sort of knew you loved me," He began. "It's pretty obvious."
"R-really?"
"Well, yeah," He sat up. "I'm not that stupid!"
I giggled. "No, I guess you're not." I did feel embarrassed that Tyson had told him that, but I only cared mais that he said that.
Then I blinked. "Okay, Phineas," I started, a wide smile spread across my face. "Now that you know how I feel about you, here's the question:
how do you feel about me?"
Once again, this is Isabella's ~POV~
As I sat there in the musky classroom, the only thing that gradually got my attention was the sighing of my peers. Glancing around the room, the bored-looking red-head was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his right hand. His elbow kept on the school desk, his gaze was set sternly on the piece of paper that was spread across in front of him. I could see pencil marks, probably a sketch for a new invention or somewhat. That made me smile. He was always so ever smart, so talented, so. . . cute. I've been holding on to this crush since I was seven. Man, that is seven years! I really need to mover on. . . My thoughts were protruded when our loud, crackly Algebra teacher slapped her hand on my desk. Her thin, crooked body was lingering over my desk, and her face was as wrinkly and white as a fat Charapay puppy.
"Isabella?" she rasped in a croaky voice. "Are you paying attention?"
"Y-yes."
"Then what did I just say?"
I gave her a smart remark. "Oh, that's easy. You just said, 'Isabella? Are you listening? What did I just say?'"
I noticed Phineas looking up with a sheepish smile, a laugh about to burst out any moment.
Our Algebra teacher raised an eyebrow and glared at me. "Shut your trap, little missy," she scolded. "Before I get Principle Low to come and have a talk with you."
I blinked and leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "Sheesh, Mrs. Birk," I muttered. "Calm down, I was just kidding."
I could had sworn she growled. Our fifty-something-year-old teacher had just growled at me! I bit back a hasty comment. What are you, a bear? As much as I wanted to say that, I held it back with all my might.
Focusing back on the problem, my mind drifted off again. It wandered through and through, searching in and out of places I wanted to be. I traveled to Paris, standing on topo, início of the Eiffel Tower with wide open arms, taking in the breeze that ruffled my hair. Then I was at the lake, where all my friends were swimming in the deep blue water and laughing about. I was just about to visit the tall evergreen mountains of Virginia, when Mrs. Birk had come over to me again, not too pleased.
"Answer. . .?" she asked, angrily staring at me.
I blinked about six times, waking up from my daydreams. "What?" I felt stupid and confused.
Mrs. Birk sighed helplessly. "I might have to have a conference with your parents," she whispered.
"I only have a mother right now,"
"Well, then me and your mother will have a talk," just on purpose, she raised her voice: "You have a low D in this class, Isabella. We're going to have to fix that."
I heard several slight gasps. Whipping around to the back of the classroom, I glared. I glared at all the faces(besides Phineas, of course) evilly, telling them with my eyes to shut up before I hurt them. I simply just shrugged it off. "So?" I retorted. "It's not like the career I want involves math. . ."
"But college will." I thought I saw Mrs. Birk flash a crazed smile, but I couldn't tell because she walked away too quickly.
Being glad I was in seventh period and it was almost over, I dazed off again. Mrs. Birk must have given up with me for the day, because the sino rang without her calling on me again.
Just as I was leaving the classroom, she called me in. I didn't respond, I just walked quicker and out into the hallway.
"Isabella!" she shouted, stepping out of the doorway. "Come here!" Her voice was high with anger.
I simply ignored her.
"Geeze, Isabella, what were you thinking?"
Phineas came up to me, a wide mass of shock on his face. "You know Mrs. Birk! She'll give you detention just for passing a note."
"So? I hate her. I don't want to be in her class."
"Nice," he commented, giving me a fake thumbs-up. "You really pulled a mover back there. I'm surprised she didn't slap you with a ruler!"
I laughed. "You idiot," I joked. "You know that's forbidden." Then I smiled. "Though, I wish she did. . .then that cow would be gone for good!"
Phineas jabbed me in the side with his elbow, a 'don't call her that!' look on his face.
"Standing up for the hag, are you, now?" I challenged, a slight giggle to my tone. Before Phineas could say something again, I began to sing a tune that made him smile: "Joy to the world, the teacher's dead. We BQQ'd her head. What happened to her body? We chucked down the potty! And round and round it goes, and round and round it goes. The old, crippled teacher is dead. Happy?"
Phineas chuckled. "Wow," He sighed. "There really is something wrong with you."
I shrugged. "What ever floats your boat, Phin."
Once on the bus and on our way home, I chose a assento behind Phineas, because him and Ferb were sitting together. Then I realized who had sat behind me.
His finger twiddled at my hair, obviously trying to agitate me. My eye twitched as I grabbed the hand from behind me and bended it the way a hand is not supposed to bend; backward.
"Ow! What the fuc-"
I turned around to face the brown-haired boy. "Do you need something, Tyson?" I demanded hastily. "Is there a problem you would like me to, let's say, fix for you?"
His blazing blue eyes burned into mine. He was holding the hand I had bent, staring at it with wide eyes. "You're strong," He commented, trying to be nice. "I think you sprained it."
"Leave me the hell alone and get out of my life." With that, I faced the other direction and crossed my arms. I knew he was still looking at me. I could feel it. I narrowed my eyes and swung my backpack around, whamming him in the face. He laughed. He laughed What a retard! Smirking with an evil smile, I took out a newly sharpened pencil, and waited. Waited until his hands came up again. I was fully focused, just challenging the teen to mess with me again.
He flicked at my hair. "Heya, Izzy, what'cha doing?"
That got me angry. For one, I hated when anyone(besides Phineas or my mom) called me Izzy, and he roubou my catchphrase. I stabbed the pencil into his hand. I did. I had to.
Tyson snatched the pencil out of my hand and threw it. It hit the bus driver in the back of her head. She glared at Tyson and pointed to the very front row. "Sit," she demanded. "Now."
Groaning, Tyson lazily grabbed his black backpack and moved to the front. Ha, I thought. Serves you right.
por now the bus had started to move. I leaned back in my assento with a sigh. My gaze traveled to the window, and I kept my eyes outside of it, watching the world fly by.
"Hey, Isabella," Phineas turned around and looked as if he had been laughing. "Look at Tyson. He's bleeding."
I sat up in shock. "What?" I gasped. I glanced at the hand I had stabbed. Sure enough, there was blood, and a lot of it.
I put my hand to my mouth. "Oops," I whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt him."
You did that?" Phineas asked. "Nice! Teaches him to stay away from you after what he did in Middle School-"
I slapped my hand to his mouth. "No one must know!" I whispered through gritted teeth. "I'll get him for that one day, just not today."
Grasping my hand gently and setting it down, he laid it on the topo, início of the seat, his hand still on topo, início of mine. I smiled sweetly and blinked like a cute, little girl.
I guessed Tyson saw us holding hands, because he chucked a wad of paper at us with composição literária on it. Phineas took it and unraveled it, leitura the words carefully. He read it aloud: You'd better stay away from her. She's mine.
Staring defiantly at the brown-haired boy, Phineas flipped it over and wrote on the back. He threw it back, only harder, and it hit Tyson in the face. Tyson picked it up and read it, his eyes glinting with hatred.
"What did you write?" I asked, leaning in.
"Nothing," Phineas leaned back in the seat. "Absolutely nothing."
I eyed him suspiciously. "Then why did he look so mad?"
Phineas smiled, obviously hiding something. "I dunno."
I nudged him with my hand. "Tell me, Phineas! Please?" I gave him those cachorro, filhote de cachorro eyes.
"Why don't I answer for you?" Tyson shouted, tossing the paper back. Ferb caught it and opened it up, handing it to Phineas, who read it. "I never knew you cared about her, you sure don't show it. She loves you, man."
I bit my lip, my pupils shrinking. I wanted to tell him, not the boy I hated!
Then I saw what Phineas had wrote: Too late. Find another. He also wrote a PS that said, I'm pretty sure you'll never find a girl as perfect as Isabella, though. She's one of a kind, one in a million. **** off. Phineas actually wrote that four-letter word, I just chose not to say it.
I felt touched. I never knew he felt that way about me. "Phineas," I poked him softly in the back. "I just read what you said." I smiled. "Thank you."
Phineas smiled back. "I sort of knew you loved me," He began. "It's pretty obvious."
"R-really?"
"Well, yeah," He sat up. "I'm not that stupid!"
I giggled. "No, I guess you're not." I did feel embarrassed that Tyson had told him that, but I only cared mais that he said that.
Then I blinked. "Okay, Phineas," I started, a wide smile spread across my face. "Now that you know how I feel about you, here's the question:
how do you feel about me?"
