"Welcome to Hyrule High!" Yeah, that's what the plaque says, but does it actually mean it? No. Urg, I hate this fucking school and all the people in it!
I heard squeaks from some of the girls as I walked past them, and no, I did not flinch. It was just another god-damn boring day so far—getting up and ready for school in minutes, walking out onto the ghetto-ish street and down it for three miles before arriving at my stupid bus stop, then finally arriving back here to be mocked and shrunk away from all because I'm different. Yes, you heard me right, I'm different. My ebony hair brings out my naturally-maroon eyes which brings out my sicker-than-sick pale skin which always hides under my black skinny-jeans and some random shirt I decide to throw on under my black (sadly) "Twilight" jacket. No, I don't necessarily care for that book series, but my mother saw me get it pushed at me a few weeks ago and didn't see when I tossed it in the trash so she went out and bought it for me—the no-good mother fucking dirty slut. Yes, I have quite a vocabulary, I'll explain why later.
I walked right past the sluts and whores so that I could push past the jocks and make it to my first period; and before you ask, yes, all the teachers are mother fucking dirty whores, well, the girl ones are—and lucky me, I only have female teachers this year. Ain't that great? I rolled my eyes and sat in the corner I loved, it was in the back and no one (and I mean no one) likes it back here.
Eventually everyone made it in and I was—thankfully—surrounded in the front, right side and diagonal by empty chairs. Thank the goddesses. And then someone completely new walked the fuck up behind me and threw his arms around me, making me cringe from the sudden shock of pain from my back—it's a long story, I'll get there eventually, too.
"HIIII!" He cried in my ear as he released me—his voice was so deep, yet so young at the same time, so masculine but so caring, too caring to be masculine, which got me freaked a bit, but it subsided soon after I got a good look at him. His hair was a golden-blonde that looked like it could go wheat-gold in the sunlight—like how they described Sodapop Curtis' hair in "The Outsiders" (we had to read that in seventh grade, it was required)—and his eyes were a magnificent shade of sapphire mixed in with a splash of determination that made them dance. His skin was as fair and blemish-free as mine once was (that's a story for another day) and that just brought out his forest-green shirt even more. If that wasn't bad enough, his shirt was perfectly matched by a pair of blue jeans and a brown belt with a golden buckle.
I glared at how much he reminded me of myself from my better days—you know the ones before I started to hate my parents.
"What the fuck is your problem?" I glowered.
"You looked lonely!" He smiled crazily, and it reminded me of the way that author described Sodapop as being. "And I thought I could change it."
"No you can't. Fuck off." I ordered and watched as those sapphire orbs became hurt—something inside me changed at that moment, I still wonder what it is. I felt almost sorry because of it, and his face fell. The way his face looked as he frowned and his eyes grew somewhat dimmer didn't look natural. He should be smiling, and you know that Dark Link! I cursed at myself as he sighed, shrugged and walked away just as the teacher walked in and pursed her lips seeing him. When he smiled, she smiled back and pulled her shoulders back so that her—dare I say—boobs were larger. It made me gag!
I shrugged my jacket on after changing in Physical Education—with the new guy (geez, every class with him and I still don't remember his name, even after the teachers all made him stand up and introduce himself in every class)—I popped my collar and carefully pulled my one-strap pack on over my shoulder; I had it positioned so that it hung on my right shoulder, but so that it was high enough to rest my arm on the back of it. I quickly followed the new kid out of the school and down the sidewalk as I tried to remember his name.
"Hey! Link!" I finally called and felt proud of myself that I had remembered his name. He stopped instantly and turned around to see my emotionless gaze and I watched as his went back to being hurt.
"Yeah? What do you want, Dark Link?" He asked in nothing more than a mumble and it shocked me, I wasn't ever called on, what? Did he peer over my shoulder and read it off my paper?
"Uh… I just… I just wanted to apolo-polo-polo-" I stuttered; as you can see, I'm not very good at it seeing as how this… actually, this is the first apology I've ever given… ever. "-apologize for what I said during first period. I realize it wasn't a good way to kick off your first day, and yeah, you get my damn point…"
He smiled and his eyes began to dance again—the sight made me want to smile; want. I can't smile, it's a sign of weakness, and I can't be weak.
"Sorry I got on your nerves so easily, Dark."
I stared at him shocked; I hadn't heard that nickname in years, even then, it was a gay-girl named Nabooru was the one calling me that (not that I have anything against gays or anything) and that was when I was about five.
"What did you call me?" I needed clarification.
"Dark… Is that ok? If I call you Dark?"
I nodded slowly, if felt good to hear that name again. "Yeah, it's fine, Link." I answered and blinked as his smile grew even larger.
"Really?!" He interjected and threw his arms around me again, making me cringe again, though he didn't see. "Oh, thank you! No one lets me use the nicknames I make them! Thank you!"
"Link, I have to go, my bus is leaving."
"Oh, that's right, I'm sorry…" I grinned at him halfheartedly to cheer him up.
"It's ok; I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, right?"
He nodded vigorously as I hurried onto my bus, seconds before the driver shut the doors.
I walked into my house and my eyes glanced to where my father was bent over the coffee table with a small razor in his hand and some fine powder on the glass—great, he's cutting his drugs with my razor! My fucking razor! Bastard.
I speed-walked to my room so that he wouldn't even see a glimpse of me. Did I forget to mention that my back hurts like hell, yeah, thought so, sorry, but here goes:
My back hurts like hell.