[1st Person POV]
Tuesday could not have come any faster, even if it took the express route. I adored my Pirates of the Caribbean alarm clock, but I came so close to throwing it out the window this morning even I was surprised at myself. Can't blame me, though. Who wants to wake up at 6 AM to go to a building full of unknown people who would no doubt stare at you all day? Oh, wait, actors. Well, we can't all be Johnny Depp, now can we?
Knowing Rixie would have yanked me out of bed herself if she had to, I got up and shuffled to the bathroom across the hall. I took a shower last night, so I wasn't worried about the big city stink on me, but I still jumped in, hoping the rush of water would be enough to wake me up for the day. Sure enough, my eyes split open when I got drenched with water that hadn't gotten the chance to warm up yet. After about 3 minutes of letting my face get wet while my hair stayed dry, I turned off the water and hopped out, drying myself with a towel from the rack. I grabbed my pajamas from the bathroom floor and tossed them into the dirty clothes bin as I walked back to my room.
I shuffled through my drawers, hoping I had gotten all my clothes out before, but knowing my luck, my favorites were probably in the last few unopened boxes. Today, though, luck was on my side, and I pulled out my Skeleton Key tank top, along with a spiked leather jacket, some torn-up black jeans, and a few other chains, buttons, and accessories to add. I may look like just a punk, but I take some pride in looking like the best goddamn punk there is. I was just tying up my boots when Rixie came in, holding up a manila envelope with a smile that I knew was forced.
"Looks like it came just in time," she said, holding the letter out to me. I opened it without bothering to look at the name. I held the object contained inside with a sense of glory, not even bothering with the letter. A motorcycle license, approved for this state, with my name and grinning face on it.
"Hell yes!" I shouted, not acknowledging Rixie's glare. I shoved the brand new license in my skull-themed wallet, right next to my old New York one. I was definitely more than happy to go to school now, knowing I could rev the loud engine of my darling Harley chopper along the way. Rixie left the room, likely to find ear plugs, while I applied my matte teal lipstick and put the final touches on my flawless (as always) appearance. After checking myself in my vanity mirror, and being more than pleased with how I look, I grabbed my keys from off my dresser and made my way to the garage.
There, gleaming from the sunrise light from the open door, was my pride and joy, almost as important to me as my Green Day-blessed guitar. A glossy black Night Rod, decked out with a blue underglow and a phoenix-shaped fender ornament. Harley Davidson might as well be using this on every single one of their ads. It took a lot of work to earn the money that made my baby what it is today, and one look is all I ever need to confirm it was So. Fucking. Worth. It.
I tugged my phone out of my jean pocket, checking the time. I'd get to school with about 20 minutes to spare, enough to get my schedule and whatever else I needed from the principle. I ran inside and grabbed my satchel off the table, slinging it over my shoulder as I ran back out to the garage and swiped my full-face motorcycle helmet off the handlebar. Sliding the helmet on my head, I jammed my key into the ignition and started it up, the engines purr sending tingles up my spine.
I clicked the garage door control button on my key-chain, and it wasn't even all the way open when I spotted neighbors, resting out on their porches, looking at me like there was a torture chamber in my garage. Their faces were whiter than the US Senate. I chuckled to myself as I pulled out of the garage and weaved around Mom's old Honda. Ah, that was clever. I'm clever.
I clicked the button and let the garage shut again before revving my engine as loud as I could and storming down the street. The neighbors might have been yelling their complaints, I couldn't tell over my engine, but who cares? They could use a wake up call.
I hadn't been hear long, but Rixie had driven me around just enough that I remembered where I could find the High School, which wasn't far from our house at all. I tried to count all the stares I was getting as I pulled into the parking lot and maneuvered into a spot near the front doors, but I could probably just settle for "everyone." I pulled my helmet off and fluffed my hair up with my fingers, yanking the key out of the ignition and sliding off the bike. I turned to walk through the front door, and despite their gawking, I smiled and waved to anyone who caught my eye.
Almost the second I stepped through the front door, all stares were directed towards me. Really, was my hair dye that bright? Even knowing it was nowhere near positive, I was pretty fond of the attention I got as I walked down the hall. Who knows, maybe it'd be enough to keep these Hollister-Model-wannabes from messing with me?
"Hey, Punky!" I guess not.
I whipped around, just in time to come face to face with a snobby boy, but a rather attractive one at that. His muscles screamed athlete, and everything else about him screamed "Not my type." I looked up in his eyes, not difficult, since I was hardly an inch shorter than him, if that. He was probably a senior like me, but it was hard to be sure. He looked at me oddly, not with disgust, but certainly not fondness.
"Let me guess, Monster Girl's cousin broke out of juvie and came to visit?" People began to gather, and their chuckles told that whoever this guy was had to be popular, because he sure wasn't funny. "I think you'll find people with your intelligence level at the elementary school, bonehead." More laughter. I arched my brows, put on my best "higher-than-thou" face, and spoke.
"I'm certain you find yourself amusing, but I regret to inform you that, should you ever feel the desire to make comment on my intelligence level again, you'll next find me shoving my copy of "Advanced Coding and Programming" so far up your ass that you'll cough up pages from the Graphical User Interface section for the next month." All laughter fell silent, and Blondie in front of me let his smile fall into a shocked "O" as I turned on my heel and walked along. To be honest, I wasn't dumb, but I wasn't nearly as smart as I just sounded. Apparently though, I knew just enough to make whoever-the-hell sound like a dumbass, and that was all that mattered.
I stepped into the principals office, and obviously I wasn't wanted in there any longer than I had to be, because the quickly secretary gave me a schedule and map, with a disgusted stare to match. Obviously these people have never seen leather before. Tucking my helmet under my arm and taking the papers, I left the office and glanced at my schedule to see what my locker would be. It took a minute, but I found the number and dialed in the combination, putting my helmet in. I grabbed a binder and some notebooks out of my bag before shoving that in too, slamming the locker shut.
My stare went the map, to room numbers, to other people staring, and back in a constant cycle. Eventually finding my class, 1st period Algebra 2, I walked in and greeted the teacher with a firm nod. "Mrs. Strelf" as the schedule referred to her, was one of the first to not openly gape at me, and instead waved me off to a seat near the back with a stiff "Welcome." Thank fuck, I was really starting to get tired of all the looks. I dropped my things on the desk and took a seat, pulling out my phone and playing games to burn off the remaining time before the bell rang.
Soon enough, the ding reverberated throughout the school, and I shoved my phone in my pocket, looking as people filled seats and turned forward. Blondie was here, and instead of paying attention to Mrs. Strelf's sharp, nasally voice, he was looking straight at me with something that could only be described as interest. We made eye contact, and he smiled before turning back towards the front. Well, fuck me sideways. A gesture like that only means one thing. Looks like I just made a rivalry with some popular snobby athlete. We have evolved from Nerd vs. Jock to Punk vs. Jock. What an accomplishment of modern day humans, someone please throw confetti.
All ingenious sarcasm aside, at least I'd have some form of interacting with someone that wasn't them staring at me. I haven't made a rivalry this quick since 3rd grade. I won't go into detail about that, but let's just say more blood was shed in that lunchroom than on a spartan battlefield. Or somebody could've spilled some ketchup in the fray, but I like my idea better.
My thoughts are rudely interrupted by the classroom door swinging open, and a timid-looking girl bursts in, looking like she was being chased by a horde of zombies. Now that'd be something to brighten up my school day.
"Sorry I'm late!" she said, dashing to her seat and sitting down as fast as she could. I smiled to myself, covering it strategically with my hand as I "scratched my nose." Mrs. Strelf went to close the classroom door, but apparently somebody else was outside, because she leaned against the door and motioned them in.
"Ah, how lovely of you to join us this morning, Raven. I can only assume Becky is late because of you?" The girl who shuffled in definitely resembled a zombie, and only further proved the comparison by acknowledging Mrs. Strelf's questions with a grunt. She was dressed head to toe in black, and she looked like she'd fit in better at a funeral than a classroom. Her make-up was sloppy, and she looked just as unwilling to be here as I was, besides the fact that my disdain was in my heart, and hers was all over her face. She didn't even look my way, just plopped into a chair and put her head down on the desk. Mrs. Strelf either wasn't looking, or didn't care, and just continued the lesson.
The notes in my notebook consisted more of half-hearted doodles and lists of celebrities I'd bang (like a screen door in a hurricane) than algebraic equations. After tiring of hearing the teacher explain shit I'd already heard in New York about a month before, I turned to look at all the faces in the room. Only one was looking back at me.
"Becky," I think the teacher called her. She was sitting half turned in her seat, her eyes set dead on me. Even me catching her staring didn't deter her, she just smiled and waved excitedly. Unsure of what else to do, I softly waved back, smiling but confused at the same time. I'd expect the Miss in Mourning to be excited to see me, someone who likely shared the same outcast status in this town, but this country girl right here? I'd be less surprised if she screamed and jumped out the window at the sight of me.
I turned back to my notes, a faint wisp of a smile on my lips. Forget rivalry, a friend is what I really need in this town. Not 5 minutes after our exchange, the bell rang, signifying "10 minutes to get to your next class," as stated by the school rules listed on the bottom of my schedule paper. I gathered my thing and stood, turning to realize Becky was right next to me.
"Hi!" she exclaimed cheerfully, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes.
"Hey," I replied, still having no idea why this tiny girl was so interested in me.
"You're new." Duh. "What's your name? I'm-"
"Becky?" I grinned, heading for the door while she walked alongside. The Mourning Miss had apparently left already. "Name's Jack. S'pleasure." I checked my schedule, again trying to find the room number among a crowd of staring faces. Becky hadn't yet left my side.
"Hey Jack, did you see that girl who came in with me earlier?" Well, she cuts straight to business.
"Aye. Black Cat?" I found my classroom, standing outside the door while I waited for Becky to say whatever she was thinking. I was almost positive that she was the "Monster Girl" Blondie was talking about when we met.
"Well, that's my best friend, Raven." Oh no. Was she about to pull some "stay away from my best friend" shit? That seemed way too snobby and annoying for her, but still. I clenched my teeth and nodded, prompting her to continue with, hopefully, not that.
"Well, she's been in a bad mood lately. Her boyfriend's been busy, and they haven't seen each other." Huh, that kind of reaction to boyfriend troubles seemed more like something the cheerleaders would do, not a chick like Raven.
"So, what? Do you want me to drag her boyfriend out by his hair and shove him into a fancy restaurant with her?" I wasn't sure where she was going with this. Becky laughed and quickly shook her hands.
"No! No, I was hoping you could introduce yourself. Finding a goth like her would probably cheer her up."
"Woah there, buckaroo." I held my hand up, eyebrows knitted together in a firm, annoyed glare. "Goth. Punk. Not the same."
"Well, someone different?" she asked, looking more than unnerved at my expression. I tapped my finger idly again the side of my pointed septum ring, emphasizing her "different" point.
"You got that right," I said, only half-joking. "I'll hit her up, maybe work a little of my happy magic. Does she like balloon animals?" Ah, my ever bountiful reserves of sarcasm come in handy literally any time. Becky smiled and ran off, trying to get to her class before the bell rang. I turned back to the class door, and there he was; My rival. Mornings full of social interaction aren't exactly my cup of Monster energy, but hell, who turns down a good argument?
"Name's Trevor," he spoke first, self-confidence all over his stupid pretty face.
"The answer to a question I didn't ask," I responded, looked at my unpainted nails with disinterest.
"Well, I'm asking you."
"Jack."
"Oh, last I checked, I thought you had boobs." My eyes flickered up to meet his, both of us sharing the same shade of grassy green.
"Jackie, if you're so irritably insistent." I probably would have never used either of those words in conversation, but if he was convinced that I was a genius, I had to prove it. He grinned, leaning closer than I would have liked.
"So Jackie, you're new here, how about I take you on a tour of the town, say around 6?" I saw right through it. A date with the new, hard-to-get punk on her first day. Not so much an offer as it seems. A popularity spike, that's what that was.
"Why, of course, Trevor, darling! I would absolutely love to be shown the finer points of this nice little town," I gushed, my voice drenched in sarcasm. To be honest, I didn't think this town had any finer points.
"Great, I'll meet you out front the school." he smiled victoriously and left to go to his class, missing the "are-you-fucking-stupid" glance I was giving him. I sighed as I trudged into English, just in time for the bell.
Well, Sarcasm is like an airplane. Some people are on board, but for everyone else, it just goes over their heads.