Hi there. The name's Spade. Jack Spade. And it's an awesome name. You're so jealous, I can feel it through the screen.

My best friend's name, on the other hand, isn't as wonderful as mine. Steven Ronston. Yes, Ronston. Doesn't that just suck? In kindergarten, when I was even less mature than I am now, I started laughing hysterically at that. I started calling him Ronnie to be mean, because I had a right to. (My name is Jack Spade. My name is the best since that guy with the high voice and the ukulele who called himself Tiny Tim. I can make fun of any names I want, THANKS.) He liked it, though, much to my temporary dismay, and insisted everyone call him Ronnie.

So for the past twelve years, people have been calling him a name I made up to be mean.

Maybe it's just me, but I love that. I think it's fantastic.

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The problem with Ronnie is that he has no sense of humor. None whatsoever. Everyone else thinks I'm funny. Well, mostly everyone else. Right now, Ronnie's storming down the hallway, blushing angrily. I'm not sure what he's mad at, but it's probably something he can't appreciate the humor of. I'm half-tripping, half-jumping after him, laughing hysterically.

"Wait! Ronnie, wait! I LOVE YOU! I want your babies! Wanna fuck you like an animal! You know, wanchu smothered, wanchu covered, like my waffle house hash browns! RONNIE! Come back!" I'm laughing so hard it hurts. People glance at me, obviously amused. Well, some of them look annoyed. They can go eat a baby walrus or something. Poor walruses.

"Shut the fuck up, Jack!" Ronnie hollers over his shoulder.

"NOOO, MY LOVE! COME BACK TO MEEEEEE!" He keeps stomping away. I sprint to catch up, and yank on some of his long blonde hair.

"Jack! Leave me alone!" he yells, but he can't stay mad at me. I'm fucking irresistible.

I poke him in the side and he jerks away. "Why're you mad?"

"You're a fucktard. Go away." Notice the lack of conviction. Jack triumphs again!

"Answer me, Ronnie! I must know."

"WHY THE FUCK DOES FIONA PELL THINK WE'RE DATING?!" he yells. People are edging away from us in the hallway.

"I dunno, Ronnie. Did you tell her we were? I don't even know who that is."

"No, I didn't! She said she heard it from your friend Mia."

"Gangstaaaaa Mia or nerdy Mia? Because if it's gangstaaaaa Mia, you have to spell it like Mi-A."

"Jack."

"Yes, my dearest love?"

"Shut up."

"Mmkay."

"Seriously. Did you tell Mi-A that we're going out?"

"No I did not, angelface. Should I have?"

"NO! Gawd, Jack. You're a freak."

"MAKE UP YOUR MIND, RONALISCIOUS! ARE WE FUCKING OR NOT?!"

"Jack! Quiet! And, no, we're not."

"Yet, sugarplum. We're not fucking yet."

He stares at me with his huge fucking-gorgeous blue eyes, eyebrows lowered. I look at him and blink a couple times. "Are we having a staring contest? Because I will so totally kick your ass if we are."

He sighs and walks away, shaking his head. "See you in third period, Jack."

"Okay, see ya. Remember: you're my soulmate. My one and only love. The Juliet to my Romeo."

"Dude. You are so Juliet," he replies over his shoulder.

"Your hair's longer!" I call after him just before the bell rings. I walk cheerfully to my art class, despite the fact that people have this extremely irritating habit of stopping and staring whenever Ronnie and I have a perfectly ordinary conversation. GET SOME LIVES, WILL YOU! We're not that interesting, okay?

Well, I am. But whatever.

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So, I'm gay. Yeppers. Not a big deal. Just figured I'd mention it, ya know, in prelude to the upcoming paragraph.

If I were to have the perfect boyfriend: He would be really, really, reallyreally ridiculously good looking. He would be taller than me by about six inches, and his hair would be long enough that I could yank on it if he was being annoying. He would be slender, but not anorexic or anything. He'd wear black skinny jeans, like I do, and band t-shirts and stuff or that kind. He'd have six billion pairs of different-colored Converse. He'd be funny in a dry, sarcastic way, but he'd be willing to put up with my ridiculous hyper... um. Hyper-ness. Yup. He'd be willing to smile when I did something adorable (a.k.a. "stupid"). We'd do everything together, and our parents would love each other and we'd be the best of friends.

I kind of just described Ronnie. That's an important part of my life right now. Because he, as you just saw, refuses to accept the deep love he has for me. But he will, oh yes.

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A/N. Like it? Hate it? Reveiw even if you think it sucks. Personally, I love Jack. He's my imaginary soulmate. :3 Yup. Reveiw, please. I will so totally love you :