Looking up at the clock I decided I better get going too if I wanted to get to school when the bell rang.
My nerves had settled down with the coffee, as well as the comforting conversation with the totally hott girl, but as I began to walk the two blocks to school, I began to feel real shitty again and my forehead and palms began to get clammy.
Being an early bird when it came to getting to school on time, I had never noticed that the majority of the students came in to school 'when the bell rang'. Walking in front and behind me, had to be at least half the school, ranging from freshmen, juniors and the dreaded sophomore class which I was associated with. Looking back on it, that 'situation' had to be probably the worse case scenario of my arrival to school apart from spot himself walking in back of me.
Immediately the fear rushed back.
I tried to hide my self in the veil of darkness I had cast around my self but it wasn't working.
I could feel those damn kids staring at my hair and clothes, wondering 'whose that fucker?'
Once again I dug my head into that black world of detachedness and tried to convince my self that they were all motherfuckers and would go to hell, but it wasn't working.
I had to piss real bad, from nerves or coffee I don't know. I felt sick to my stomach.
Man, was spot going to have a laugh when he saw the state of me. I could just imagine him going on about how 'fucked-up, unsocial skits had a fucking nervous breakdown when he realized none of his friends could give a shit about him.'
Fuck being a man!
I tugged the hood of my hoodie over my head, tucking all traces of hair from view. I felt a little better though the fact that I was a fucking coward didn't settle all to well with my pride.
I entered the school courtyard and as on any other day, checked the area for a friendly face and for a spilt second I smiled upon seeing Kayla going through the door, only before remembering that she was the enemy now.
I didn't know how she was the enemy but she was. It was just like in all those Vietnam War flicks we had to watch in class last year; I knew why jack and spot were the enemy but the rest of them I really had no reason to hate. They hadn't done shit to me, yet I despised them with a fiery passion.
At the time I didn't have a clue about the war I had started; how big the enemy really was. My instincts told me to hate jack and spot but I didn't realize I hated them for something larger, out of both their and my control. I hated all of them, because they were social. It was that simple. The reason I hated Kayla and Donna and jade and molly- four sexy girls who had done not a damn thing wrong to me- was because they weren't like me. They weren't twisted and psychotic and black loving like I was.
They were normal.
I wasn't normal.
And that's why I hated them.
I came to this elaborate conclusion three feet in away from Kayla and about 5 seconds before she noticed my presence, which gave me no time whatsoever to begin hating a girl I had been in love with for most of my teenage life.
But I had to hate her. She was a person and I hated people, including myself.
5, 4,3,2,1, my time was up.
"Skits?" she inquired, right on time as she examined my fucked up black wardrobe.
I tried to ignore her; I tried to hide my self in my black curtain as I had tried when walking to school. Only this time it worked. I did not care about her. I walked right past the girl who had been my first lover and possibly the only person who I could expect to get some sympathy from besides that Sheena chick in star bucks.
I had had two friends in this world; now I was down to one.
They're just dropping like flies, I thought to my self as I began to ascend the stairs to the third floor where my homeroom was.
I liked the new feeling of apathy; it felt nice not to care for once.
I used to find it so fucking ironic how 'the knell of order' and race and everyone thought I couldn't care less about shit. Cause really, the truth is, back then I cared about everything. Man I was so sensitive; I mean that's the reason why this whole transformation happened anyway, cause I needed to feel the black.
Ha, if he they were to say that now a days I'd probably respond 'yes indeed your right.'
Rearing the corner from the stairwell I spotted cowboy, entering class 319, his and my homeroom.
I began to panic and the indifference faded away almost immediately.
Shit, I had forgot about this. Ya see, in my school you travel round to classes with your homeroom until 11th grade. I was in 10th grade. That meant spending all day with the fucker I least wanted to see. And I sat at almost all of his tables to boot!
I began to calculate my morning's classes and how I would be able to avoid conversation with the little bugger. I had English first but we sat in a horseshoe circle like thing and we could switch seats as we pleased.
Crossed one class off my list of possible death sentences.
Next was gym for two periods. No attendance was ever taken in gym so I could hide in the locker room all class anyway.
Crossed off periods 2 and 3.
Then was bio chemistry. He would catch me there. We were lab partners and since the O'Henry School of Collaborative Study was in fact based on collaboration, we would have to talk during our lab and I was positive he would do all he could to bring up Friday evening.
I re-shoved my hair underneath the hood for my own reassurance, and strutted out into the hallway nonchalantly instead like the freak I really was.
As I walked into visibility I noticed a couple heads turn and stare but for the most part no one noticed I was there. After all the preps were all to busy flirting and talking about money to notice punks and when you consider that preps and posers populate…no…pollute 90 of my school, that doesn't leave many down-to-earth kids left.
As soon as their jabber reached my ears and I heard the exact words "…my house for a movie tonight…" my black hole got deeper and I fell down into a greater level of passiveness.
I wasn't going anywhere after school. I would be by myself, something I had prayed for, for the last three years of my life. At this thought I had to fight off a smile. Me, my guitar, some smokes and my fire escape.
I strode into the classroom looking as cool and composed as I possibly could and took a seat in the back of the class next to an immature girl with two short braids and a geeky poser whose name I didn't know or care to know.
I could feel a couple people's eyes follow me into the room, including the grandmaster fucker himself; cowboy. But I didn't care. I had my blackness and the music playing in my head and that was all I needed.
I knew cowboy must be thinking what the 'fuck happened to him', along with a girl named Ophelia, one named Angie and druggie named Sadie all of whom consider them selves my 'acquaintance'.
Probably bunches of other girls in other classes would wonder the same thing within the next week or so. Of course non of them I had ever considered anything of, to me they were just people and I hate people, so really they shouldn't even be calling themselves my acquaintance cause I hate them all. Somehow, all I have ever had to do was listen to a girl jabber her fucking mouth off talking about shit and god know what (I never listened), and they're stuck on me, think we're the 'bestest of friends'. I mean of course I'm not bad looking, but c'mon, if I have never once talked back to them don't they consider that I sign of some sort.
Oh well, now I'm free to tell them all to fuck off with out damaging my no existent rep (score!).
Eventually Angie and all them other whore's turned around once more to face the ever fervent Mr. duffy a.k.a. our homeroom teacher.
Though, even through my protective wall of darkness, I could feel cowboy's heated gaze. His eyes were scanning me like those metal detectors police use on TV, starting at my BLACK doc martins, going up the length of my BLACK straight-leg jeans, examining my BLACK Generation X fitted zipper hoodie and zooming in on my forehead where about a millimeter of BLACK dyed roots was visibly, protruding from beneath my hood.
Catching his gaze I pulled my hood down farther over my eyes so that not even my black roots could be seen.
He gave me a questioning yet caring look and raised his eyebrows perplexedly as if to say what's wrong, as if he cared about my well being, as if were my friend!
I have no friends!
You are not my friend, he is not my friend, she is not my friend, they are not my friends…nobody in this damn fucking world is my friend!
As if he actually cared if I was insane! Cared that I was unhealthily obsessed with black and completely paranoid! He could give a fuck about me and if I hadn't been an ex-friend of his, he probably would have gone on with his goddamn life!
I averted my eyes from his gaze and looked up at Mr. Duffy who was now taking attendance, adding in small tidbits of information after each name such as, oh so and so, you said you would make me an attendance folder and what ever happened to that essay of yours.
"Christian?" He called out like every other name.
Cowboy raised his hand coolly, his feet propped up on his desk, his headphones on.
"Music, please, Mr. Bale?"
I saw a flicker of a scowl form at the corners of cowboy's mouth as he hesitantly removed the headphones from where they were clamped down over his ears. I heard a faint whiff of Neil Young's 'Down By The River' before he turned off his Walkman and stashed it in his bag.
Mr. Duffy grinned widely at cowboy before moving on to Jude Carson.
As expected cowboy turned to me once more, trying to ask me unknown questions with his eyes.
Instead of answering his non-verbal questions, I flipped him off subtly underneath the desk.
He noticed.
"Michael Goorjian?"
I raised my hand, never taking my eyes of the top of my desk, intent on not catching cowboys gaze once.
I raised my eyes slowly and caught the fleeting glimpse of cowboy mouthing "your such a fucking poser," before I lowered my eyes once more.
He was officially against me and I didn't give a fuck.
Homeroom ended with a bash (for me and cowboy at least) and in lu of the events that had gone on during those fatal 10 minutes, I decided to walk around to the back staircase and take the long way to English.
Passing through two 3rd floor hallways, climbing the stairs and walking one 4th floor hallway, I landed my self in front of the English room, just as Ms. Shoenfeld was opening her door for my class.
I kinda liked English or rather I didn't fuck it over as I did with every other class. You see, in English we wrote poetry and my poetry usually ended up being converted to lyrics at some point. Therefore I figured it was useful towards my…err…music career. Fuck, what am I saying! Music isn't a career it's a life style. Man I sound like my mum.
And when I think about it, that was another thing that separated spot from me. He hated English! Called it a fucking phony class for preps.
At the time I had told him to go rent himself Dead Poet's Society and say that again after he had watched the movie.
But he was right in a way. Preps liked English but that's because preps weren't posers. And don't think I'm going soft, I fucking hate preps more then the next punk, but preps do whatever the hell they want (usually including shopping ect.). As long as they believe in money, money, and more money they're full-blooded preps.
After all prep is merely classified by their out look on life; it's all mental. And the prep outlook, which is the effect of having money, results in prep clothes. Therefore the appearance comes from the state of mind (if that makes any sense at all?)
Punk on the other hand, has such a specific wardrobe and non-expensive, that someone who doesn't have the punk mindset but likes the fashion, can easily infiltrate a rocker, no sweat.
This is me of course, rambling on about 2 of the subjects I am most passionate about, so it won't make any fucking sense to most people.
But anyway, conclusion; prep is only a mindset, a true punk has a punk mindset and English class is all about finding and unfolding your mindset through poems and story's. It's for kids to express them selves, not through their fashion, but through their mind.
English wasn't for posers whose mindset conflicted with their outward appearance. Spot was a poser. There for, English wasn't for him.
Fuck spot.
The English room was set up like a horseshoe so that every one could see everyone else's 'bright and shinning faces.' This was how Ms. Shoenfeld had explained her awkward set up of the room in the beginning of the year. I sat in the back of the room in the second horseshoe that circled in back of the first. As I have said I don't 'mind' English, so, although I wasn't dead center, I was one or two desks off from the middle of the horseshoe.
An artistic/cool geeky kid sat on one side of me, people called him Cosmic Charlie and on my other side sat Jack Flash… don't have much to say about him (hah! I've never said a word to him in my life!) Obviously cowboy had switched seats with the dude cause jack flash usually sat in front of me where cowboy was currently sitting.
As we settled down, hauling out are fucking huge 'life books' and tiny binders, Ms. Shoenfeld's eyes scanned the room, searching for gum chewer's, coat wearer's and hat bearer's.
Several kids got up and spit out their gum without her having to say a word though as usual the jacket wearers (usually slutty ghetto kids whose outfits were not 'appropriate for school') were being stubborn.
One at a time, she had to ask them to remove of their coats and reveal their boobilicious outfits to the class.
"Eileen, rose, marigold, Frank Lloyd; coats, off. And skits, your hood."
I froze. I had forgotten about my hood. My black veil fell and I was left stranded.
"Skits, you heard me. Please take off your hood."
Hesitantly and numbly I reached up and touched my black veil, my comfort towards all the stares, and mechanically pushed it off my head, letting it thump against my back, my black hair falling into my face.
I heard small gasps of wonder as my black, black hair was revealed.
Quickly I looked down at my desk, hands in my lap and stared at the doodles and shout outs other students had scribbled down on its surface. I clenched my fists hard, hearing my knuckles crack and feeling a dull pain in my forefinger.
Slowly but surely Ms. Shoenfeld was able to regain the classes attention by pretending nothing had happened.
Every so often I could feel a kid staring, transfixededly at me and my blackness.
I hoped I scared the fucking shits out of them because I wanted them all to feel pain. I hoped they had a restless night of nightmares where I stabbed them all numerous times. I wanted to kill every single fucking one of those nasty stare'ers, slowly, painfully and without a fucking hint of mercy.
They had destroyed my veil and left me dilapidated, stripped of my confidence and my pride.
E Gasp skittery is begining to sound more and more like me each chapter lolz!
but anyways, ah well done well done you have survived my dismal chappie lolz.
next one will be better though i promise!
you may have also noticed that all the names in this chapter are songs; jumpin jack flash, cosmic charlie, sexy sadie, angie (rolling stones), opheilia (the band) and also donna (from hair), sheena is a punk rocker, lovely rita metermaid, jade is mick jaggers daughter, take a load off annie (if you sing it sounds like fanny from the weight by the band), molly's lips (nivana my love!)
also i have decided that from here on end all the chapters are going to be songs lolz!
REVIEW PLEASE!