Pissing On A Stranger's Car
The beginning of a school year always freaked me out, but I must say that I have good reason to be freaked out this year.
It was the start of another year, my senior year to be exact and I'm going to a different school.
My mom always wanted to move and this year she'd done just that. We hadn't done anything during the summer. She spent all of our vacation money and more on moving.
I wish she would have waited until I was finished with high school, but she didn't. She saw the opportunity and jumped at it like a hungry cat.
This school is much bigger than my one back home; things are done differently as well. I spend like an hour waiting outside in a long ass line. Apparently this is how they're giving us our schedules. Back home they'd have everyone's name under their homeroom teacher posted outside of the building, then from there we'd just go to class and then the teacher would give us our schedule.
Never in my life have I been one to openly talk to people. I'd always stick with my little group of friends. I have associates who know me because we practically grew up together, but that's it.
So as I stand there in line I don't talk to anyone and no one talks to me. I quietly observe the other people and sometimes eavesdrop in on a conversation or two.
These girls sure do the most when it comes to dressing up. But I guess you have to when you all have to dress the same.
I look down at myself. Khaki pants that are a bit too loose, but I'm sure they'll fit okay after a wash. I have on a white polo with the school's logo over my right breast. On my feet are a pair of neon orange converse, my belt is the same color.
With the policy that we have to wear uniforms, I would have thought that they'd be really strict with the way you look, but these girls are doing it all to stand out. Festive hair pieces, colors even. Colored and/or tie dyed ripped vests, odd earrings, belts, multicolored shoes.
Finally it is my turn to receive my schedule. There are four teachers seated at white fold out tables.
The one at my door look to be in her late 50s, her graying hair is up in a sophisticated looking bun. She looks up at me through her frameless glasses.
"Grade," she asks in a monotone voice.
I clear my throat and answer. "Twelfth."
"Last name?"
"Till. Elise Till."
She shuffles through the papers, pulls out one and then hands it to me.
I slowly walking into the building, there are security guards standing at the sides of metal detectors.
Metal detectors?
I've never been through one of those in a school.
All of the students are taking out their cell phones and car keys. I follow suit and take out mine and put them on the side table. My heart skips a beat when I walked through. The security guard returns my belongings to me.
There is another teacher directing people where to go.
"Do you know where to go?" She has a frantic look on her face like she's in a hurry.
I shake my head no. She reaches for my schedule.
"D Pod." She points to a stairwell. "Right up there."
I nod then make my way up the stairs.
There are people coming and going, but the hall isn't crowded. Some are talking. The hall doesn't have a lot of noise either, but everything is too loud to me. I'm scared.
I look at the numbers on the doors. I need 219.
It's all the way at the end of the hallway and around a small corner. I quietly walk into the room instantly looking for available seats. There is one over by the window and it's surrounded by girls.
Girls were never my strong point. I always end up with guys being my closest friends.
I quietly sit after I take my bag off and place it beside my chair.
"You must be new here." One of the girls says. I turn to look at her. She isn't at all skinny, but she isn't fat. Chunky. Her hair looks slightly dry as it falls around her shoulders. It looks as if no one had ever taught her how to properly put on makeup. Her face is glittery with cheap foundation and blush. Her brown eyes are framed with light blue eye shadow. It really isn't her color. She has a warm smile on her face.
I smile back and nod at her statement.
"Can I see your schedule?" I hand it over to her.
While she looks at it, I look around the classroom. There are way more guys than there are girls. They're joking around as usual. That is expected.
This girl is wearing blue converse, khaki skinny jeans, and a green polo that looks a little bit too tight. She has her blond hair up in a ponytail. Dark purple framed specs sit on a nose that is slightly too wide and she's currently caking many layers of lip gloss on her mouth. Definitely the type I would stay away from, she looks really messy.
I look up to the front of the classroom to where the teacher is. He kind of reminds me of Mr. Potato Head or SpongeBob's dad even. He's really short, maybe an inch or two taller than my 5'2.
There is a big world map taped to the wall, a dry erase board on each sides of the smart board. On the wall farthest away from me there are windows that let you see out into the hall.
"Here." I'm snapped out of my observation as she gives me back my schedule.
Nothing really happened on that first day. The teachers gave out classroom syllabuses and some even had supply lists.
I hadn't talked to anyone. They didn't seem like a really friendly bunch.
I quickly make my way out to the completely full parking lot. I highly doubt all of these people have licenses.
There is a much nicer car beside my old 2004 Black Yukon.
I press the unlock button on the keychain as I make my way towards it.
There's a guy standing beside the car next to mine. The space between us isn't that big. I throw my bag into the backseat, and then go to open the driver's door.
Just my luck, it ends up swinging open and hitting the guy that is standing next to the fancy car, knocking him into it.
My eyes widen. "Oops." I then climb into my car. As soon as I have my door close, something heavy falls against my car making it shake.
I look to the window. There's a guy with both palms and his forehead pressed against it.
"Oops? That all I get," he asks, his voice is low and deep. Sexy.
I roll my eyes, "Well there is no point in saying sorry if I'm not."
There are a few on goers who stop to see what is going on. I wish they'd leave and go on with their lives because there is nothing to see here.
The guy looks up at them and then they suddenly pretended that nothing is going on.
What control does he have over these people? Like who the fuck does he think he is? I was grateful though.
He did a second glance around then looks down. I lean closer to the window to see what he is doing. He's unzipping his pants.
I am frozen, my hand on the door, there's a flash of skin and suddenly I'm all the way on the passenger side.
I open the door and hop out with a scream bursting through my lips.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" I exclaim as I round my car.
He's taking a piss on my door.
He casually looks up at me and says, "The door hit me, I have to get back at it somehow."
Red clouded my vision as I seethe with anger. I run towards him, my hands in fists. I just started hitting. I don't know where I'm hitting, but I'm swinging. Feels like I am pounding a wall and for a second I feel some hair.
All too soon my hands are trapped and I'm slammed against my car.
I open my eyes and found myself looking at a well fit chest. Up, I look. A pair of gray eyes is staring down at me full of hate. His square jaw looks so good I could run my tongue along it. His nose is thin and straight, no imperfections, his lips, oh my god, they were full and pouty. Totally kissable. His skin held the most perfect color of tan.
Why does he have to look so good? This would have been so much easier if he were butt ugly.
I groan, trying to pull my hands from his large ones.
I wince as he squeezes them. He leans down and grows, "Keep your hands to your fucking self." Then he lets me go, throwing my hands away from him which causes one of them to hit me in the face.
I watch as he walks to the other side of his car. Before he gets in he turns to look me dead in the face. "Fucking bitch."
"Cunt." I retort.
He smirks then gets into the car. The engine purrs to life and before long he's gone.
I look down at the wet pavement, then to my now contaminated door.
This isn't over.
I make my way home to get changed into something a bit more comfortable before I go out. The town is nothing new to me. I've been here many times. There were no shopping malls or really major anything in my other town. So this is where you came when you needed special things.
One thing I've learned is that the drivers are road bitches. If you need to switch lanes or something then you have to take it because they aren't going to give it to you.
Horns are constantly being blown at you, people are always turning at the last minute and some didn't even use their signals. I've only been here for almost two months and have seen many cars turned over.
I turn into my own neighborhood.
This has to be one of the most boring places on earth. There is never anyone outside really. Well, there are these kids next door that I'd see every once in a while, but other than that. No one.
Old people getting out of their cars and walking their dogs doesn't count.
I haven't seen anyone my age.
My house is a one story brick house. It's really rectangular. The windows are really large and have white panels. The front entrance consists of orange double doors. It matches somehow.
We never use the front door. We go through the side which leads into the kitchen.
The kitchen is really open, there's an okay sized island in the center.
The cupboards are tan in color. All around the counters are black and chrome appliances. My mom is a real match freak, so everything has to go together.
The theme is…rooster.
Rooster mats, rooster towels, rooster stove covers, rooster soap dispenser, rooster bread pan, rooster paper towel holder, rooster cookie jar, just everything rooster.
Before rooster, it was apple.
I pass through the family room. Then cut into the hallway, pass two bedrooms, one of them being my mom's and the other just empty, by the spare bathroom and finally my room.
I push open my door and turn the light on even though it was bright enough outside to give them room enough natural light.
It's a bit stuffy; my mom had turned the ceiling fan off before she left. I needed it on at all times.
My furniture is in cherry wood. A full sized bed sits in the middle against the wall, the comforter striped in all shades of purple, many pillows of different shapes and colors. The bedside table consists of a lamp, a tea light candle, an alarm clock and a book.
Against the wall across from my bed is an electric fireplace with a plasma screen sitting on top of it. On the right side of my bed is a dresser with a mirror mounted on top. My desk sits away from it.
There is another door close to the entrance. That's the bathroom. You have to enter it to get to the closet.
My room is completely normal if you ask me and I'm a completely normal teenager.
I just sometimes keep random things like the metal tabs from soda cans, pretty perfume bottles, favorite pens that have long gone out of ink, the little things that fall off studded belts. Hurts like fuck if you step on one of them. I've got a collection of many English journals from over the years, quills even. I don't use them though, they're just for show.
See, normal teenage stuff.
I put down my bag and purse the go into the bathroom for a quick shower.
After I get out I take my time drying off and then putting lotion all over my body.
I put on simple clothing nothing that was too much. I go over to the full length mirror for a glance.
My hair is very dark brown, it almost looks black, but you can tell the difference in the sun. It's pulled back into a messy ponytail, a few curly tendrils hanging here and there.
For years my aunt and cousins have reminded me that I've got a somewhat round face by calling me bighead. My eyes are brown, not too big, not too squinty, but average. They're pretty wide open, not Katy Perry wide. On my face sits a pair of purple plastic framed glasses. The insides are lined light blue. Unlike many people I wear glasses because I actually need them, I'm very blind. I don't see why people like to put those things on their face. If I didn't need glasses I wouldn't wear them.
I'd say that I have an okay nose, it's not very big at all and my lips are nice and full, so that's good.
My gaze drifts down to my chest, I'd never had really big boobs, and I'm one of the latest bloomers I know. At least I'd gotten to a full B cup now. They weren't that well on display because of sports bra magic and a plain yellow shirt.
I'm not toothpick then, I'm actually ten pounds heavier than what I'd like to weigh. I've tried diets, can't stick to them though. The unhealthy food calls to me.
I've got hips and thighs, they sometimes make me feel a little bit self-conscious, but I'm not bothered most of the time. Compared to some girls I'm quite well off.
The simple blue jeans I have on fit perfectly with the need of a belt.
On my feet is a simple boring pair of plain black Toms. I'm decent.
As I make my way to go I see a grocery list on the refrigerator, I grab it and then head out of the door.
When I get into the car I connect my iPod with my radio. I go to a playlist that's full of music that I wouldn't want to skip.
The Beatles' "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" began to pour out of the speakers, I turn it up louder.
"Picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly. A girl with kaleidoscope eyes," I sang along.
Not forgetting that that asshole pissed on my door I pull into a five minute drive thru car wash.
To those of you who don't know, music sounds best in a drive thru car wash. You've got to turn it up really loud, let your seat back and just relax. Combined with all of the beating against the car, everything just sounds amazing. You hate when it's over though, the music is way too fucking loud.
I make my way to Wal-Mart to pick up whatever supplies that the teachers asked for excluding things that were for the class like Kleenex, Germ-X, and Paper Towels. I never used any of that stuff, so why buy it.
When I get home it's around seven o'clock. I figure that I would make a little dinner and then watch TV until I fall asleep.
My mom is a nurse who works night shift. A twelve hour night shift.
Even though I don't like her that much, she pays the bills and whatever else needs to be paid, so I save her the trouble of cooking.
I'm technically home along most of the time. Any other teenager would take advantage of that. It being me, I'm not very social. I prefer my own company.
By ten thirty I'm in bed and on my way to dreamland, or complete darkness even.
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