The Biology class passed just as uneventfully, with Sollux and I sitting in an almost awkward silence the whole time.
I begin counting down the minutes just to pass the time, because there doesn't seem to be much else I can do. Sollux, the lucky bastard, has his notebook out, and is scribbling some more. When I glance over, he had drawn a very nice sketch of a kid sitting at a computer screen, but there are also alot of notes around the sketch that doesn't seem to relate to the drawing at all. He doesn't notice my glances at least.
From what I can gather, he's some sort of hacker and the scribbles are a bunch of different codes. I'm proud of myself for recognizing them actually, I only dabble in the computer programming section, because I never really have time for it. My mind begins to wander in our silence, the voices of other students chatting drowning out many of my minds smaller thoughts.
I see Egbert is now doing something on his computer, a small smile on his face. He has earbuds in, almost like he was mocking me for my lack of musical distraction. Luckily, before I get too annoyed, the bell rings and I'm able to book it out of there. I slide past Sollux and practically sprint into the hallway, ignoring the yells as I push past people.
I have lunch after...Gym. For fucks sake, can I get a break? With an angry sigh, I head to my locker because I have to grab my gym clothes. The Juggalo isn't there at least, so I'm able to grab my things in peace and head to the gymnasium on the first floor.
The stairwells are more difficult to navigate, due to the many clueless freshman rushing around, trying to find their classes. None of them try to approach me, which I'm quite thankful for.
By the time I get to the gym, warning bell hasn't rung, so I go ahead into to the locker room, since I actually have time to change. There are already a few guys in the room, and my nose wrinkles at the smell. You can easily tell they don't clean over the summer, because the stale body odor still hangs in the air. Plus the smell of fresh BO and a horrible mix of colognes/Axe spray.
I quickly join the less athletic kids that have lockers claimed in the back, and put my lock on the metal box. I suddenly remember the bruise on my arm, as I begin to pull my shirt over my head. The one on my face was ok, but I didn't about it when I grabbed clothes in the morning. After growling a few curses, I pull my shirt back down, just changing into gym shorts. I'm already sweating at the thought of the horrendous workout we're probably going to do. Warning bell rings, and everyone quickly exits, besides the few late comers who hurry into the locker room. The slam of lockers echoes cruelly in the emptying concrete room.
The coach is standing there waiting, although I can't tell exactly if he's waiting because he has on reflective black shades that don't let us see his eyes. But his relaxed posture, crossed arms and displaced weight, indicate he's the type to not give a shit if you are late or not. At least he isn't as freakishly muscle-y as last years coach. He has more of a thin frame, under his baggy white t-shirt and jeans. He's actually really young, probably no older that 25. I find that odd, why would someone so young get a crap-job like this? When final bell chimes, and the last stragglers gather in the center, he finally speaks up.
"Alright, so I'm your gym coach for this year, you guys should just call me Dave, 'cause I hate formalities," he says. His voice silences everyone instantly, especially the girls. I'm kind of shocked by his voice as well, because for one, he has a Texan accent. Although, from his tan and naturally bleach-blonde hair, I assumed he's from down south. But it also holds this smooth quality. If I'm asked to label it, I'd say cool. And asshole.
"So listen, I don't want to be the bastard that makes you run ten miles and shit, but it's required for you to do some weird workout for the first week of school," He looks down at his hand, and I can now see that he's holding a phone.
"Um, fifteen minutes of running/walking, I don't care which, oh god, OK they say you have to do 25 push ups and 25 sit-ups, and I hated when my Bro made me do workouts like this, so all you guys are going to do for today is run, then I'll figure something out," He says, making a scowl before returning to expressionless.
"Ok, so roll call, just say here or something," he continues, then quickly begins listing names. I'm thankful to hear that neither Captor nor Makara are in the class with me, which makes me relax slightly. Although one of Gamzee's friends, Tavros, is, which I don't mind because he's pretty nice and surprisingly sane for our little trio.
Dave now walks over to some piece of technology in the center of the gym. His old sneakers barely make a noise on the polished wood, which I find odd because the wood literally makes everyone's shoes squeak. He plugs his phone into the weird thing, and seems to select a playlist.
"You're going to run for five minutes, which will end when the song ends, then I'll let you walk for about seven minutes, which will be another song. You'll do that until I figure out something else we can do," he says, motioning to the phone, then pointing to the perimeter of the gym. He's met with a few grumbles, but mostly there are sounds of agreement.
"Go ahead and get moving," he says tapping the screen of his phone. Everyone begins moving, some more reluctant than others. When the song begins playing, I'm sort of shocked, because it sounds like something you would play at a club, not in school. I won't deny that it was good though, whoever created this is an expert DJ, definitely. At least there's a nice beat to it; it's something you can easily run to, and everyone seems to think the same thing because we all begin to run at the same pace.
The five minutes pass quickly, and we're able to walk for the next seven. I'm shocked when this class passes so quickly, but I' thankful when Dave dismisses us to the locker rooms ten minutes early. He never thought of anything else for us to do, so he just lets us go. I change quickly, then retreat back to the eery silence of the gym. Dave is standing there, bobbing his head to another mix he's playing. He doesn't even turn his head to me, so I assume that he's pretty into it. The silence doesn't last long though, because others quickly escape the locker rooms and fill the large room.
Everything begins to echo loudly as voices rise to hear each other. I decide to retreat to a quiet corner to watch everyone else. That plan actually works for a little, with Tavros joining me after a few minutes. He slouches back into the bleachers that I'm leaning against. Both of us begin talking about our summer break, Tavros had actually gone on a vacation with his uncle. But can peace ever last? Of course not.
Us two loners catch the attention of the big-headed jocks, who make their way over to us once their small minds process the fact that we're "fresh meat", aka, available to be picked on. I notice their approach and stiffen, glancing at the clock. But luck isn't with us, we still have five minutes. Tavros continues to be in his own world, staring up at the ceiling and swinging his legs.I nudge him just slightly to sort of warn him before scowling.
"Vantas, Nitram," a voice mocks, it's annoying high-pitch making me scowl.
"What the hell do you want Josh," I growl, barely turning.
"Oh? nothing, just wondering who beat you up," He says with a smirk. Goddamn him.
"It was no one," I reply, turning to glare at him. He sneers at me, "mocking" my helplessness. His cohorts sneer as well, perfect copies of their damn leader.
"Of course, perfect excuse, tell me, how'd they get you so bad?"
"What's you aim in this? What will be the ending result?" I ask furiously, knowing he's trying to get under my skin, and just slightly succeeding. I'm not really in the mood to deal with his bullshit.
"Aim? What Aim-" he begins to say, but I'm saved by the bell. I scowl at him once more and shove past, feeling my shoulder hit his arm, hard. I can also hear Tavros following close behind, hopefully making it past those guys.
I make my way to the cafeteria, where many others are beginning to gather, in time for their lunch period. The doors are already open, and I assume that this year it's first come first served because many people have already received their lunches and are sitting down and chatting. I curse lowly as I remember that I don't have lunch money, I had given it all to Nepeta so she could eat.
With a frustrated sigh, I turn back around, and run into none other than Sollux. He barely rocks on his heels, but I end up stumbling back, almost falling. I curse some more, pressing the heel of my hand against the bruise on my cheek.
"Aw th'it th'orry, " I hear him say, then I look up to see him staring at me.
"Fuck you," I mutter, then brush past him, or at least I try. Before I can get two steps away, he grabs my right arm. I want to scream with how much it hurts, but I tone it down to a pained yelp, which make him release my arm quickly. When I turn, I see him frowning worriedly at me.
"Um...where are you going? Isn't this your lunch period too?" He asks, after a few moments of seeming self debate.
"...Not hungry." He frowns even more, but I ignore it and begin walking again, holding my right arm limply to my side. I'm glad when he doesn't pursue me, and in only a minute the din of voices is quieted, and the sounds of my footsteps are almost foreign to my ears. I make my way to the computer lab, which is inside the library. I'm glad the librarians don't question you, they just nod and let you continue on.
There are three freshmen's, as well as a senior at the computers as well, but they don't acknowledge me, so I sit down at a secluded computer in the back. I plug in my earbuds, and open up YouTube, might as well try to figure out the chords if I have nothing better to do.
I find a pen on the floor, as well as a piece of notebook paper, so I use them to (messily) jot down the chords I need. It's alot harder to write with my left hand, since my right arm is sort of incapacitated at the moment. I find this process even more difficult without my guitar to practice with, but nonetheless I continue to write until I hear the bell ring again, signalling the end to lunch period.
I gather up my (meager) supplies and quickly make my way to the next class, which is apparently Miscellaneous Art(s). By the time I get to the classroom, I see that almost everyone is there, and just my luck, Gamzee, Tavros, and Roxy are there, meaning this class is probably going to be the craziest one of the day.
I'm not sure if that's a good, or bad thing.