Chapter 2: The Rough Idea

It's early, I'm tired, and I had... not enough hours of sleep last night.

They say you aren't supposed to run away from your problems, but sometimes that feels like the only option... or at least avoiding them as much as you can.

I put on clothes, packed a breakfast, got my backpack, and was ready to go. School isn't going to start for hours, but the sooner I get out the better.

As I open the door to leave I wave goodbye to my dad, who's sleeping on the couch with a beer bottle in hand.

He and Mom got into a pretty big fight last night. It ended like they always do, my dad getting upset and drinking his sadness away while my mom kicks him out of the bedroom so he can "think about what he's done".

Who knows what he did this time.

Regardless, I'm leaving before either of them wakes up and I find out. My phone says 6:30, which means I have some time to waste before school.

I run out to the shed, grab my skateboard, put my headphones on and start the music. Today I'm feeling like some Icon for Hire.

It takes me 30 minutes to get to school, since I have some more time I drop by the skate park across the road and mess around for a bit. No one is there this early anyway, so it's safe.

I ate my breakfast, and I played around for a bit, I've been trying to do a kick flip for the past couple of weeks. Some dude on YouTube said after you learn that, a "whole new world of tricks opens up to you".

Plus he looked like a lame stoner type, so chances are he knows about this stuff.

Buses started arriving and I tried my best to silently slip into the crowd. Then I made a very bad mistake, I started thinking. I recognize all of these people. Sure, maybe not by name, but I know their faces.

There's the blonde girl with glasses that always looks frustrated and I've never seen her without a book... or with a smile.

There's that super smiley kid that hums to himself and references cartoons, and he's always with the coffee guy, who, honestly I don't know much about.

There was the girl that pretended to be a cat a few years back. She seems more stable now, but best not to talk to her because you might get hissed at.

We got to the halls and people grouped up before heading to classes. As they all left, I just got this unexplainable feeling in my gut.

I know all these people. I've seen them cry in the halls, and heard them when they talk shit behind their friends' back; I've heard the embarrassing speeches, and the public rejections. I've witnessed some pivotal moments in these people's lives.

... But how many of them know me?

I'm just a blob. A dummy dressed in black, pretending to be cool, all the while too afraid to talk to anyone. I'm too afraid to have a group, too afraid to affect people in any meaningful way.

The anxiety rises in my stomach.

Not this shit again.

Can I just make up my mind already? Do I want recognition? Do I want to be the center of attention, or do I want to be a nobody?

Blend into the crowd or stand out?

Maybe... maybe it's time for a new beginning.

Maybe I can stand out this time. Maybe I don't have to be a nobody.

There were three people left in the hall, two people that looked like they were dating saying goodbye and planning to meet up again, and then a girl in a grey hoodie that was facing the lockers. Her shoulders are shaking like she's laughing at something.

With some strangely determined confidence, I pushed my anxiety down.

I put my hand out in her direction. It felt so robotic and wrong and weird and -I should probably stop now before- "Hi. I'm Virgil. W-what's so funny?"

She turned around, and oh shit. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks had tears racing down them, and - fuck, I can't deal with this.

I gave a shaky "oh, I'm sorry." Before practically running away. Where was I even going?

The bile rising in my throat answered that question pretty quickly. So there I sat, on the bathroom floor, after puking my guts out.

First days are great, right? I can't wait to leave and go face people again. It'll be so fun.

Maybe a new beginning isn't what I need.

After maybe an hour I managed to convince myself to leave the bathroom and make at least a few of my classes…

This was a bad idea.

You see, the second I started heading to class, the science teacher walked by. I didn't remember his name, but some students called him "Mr. Robot", probably had something to do with the fact that this man was never not tense, and he could quote all the textbooks he gave us word for word, like he was… well, a robot.

To be fair though, at least you'd assume he's passionate about what he's teaching. That's way better than the history teacher, who usually just plays some random video off YouTube and gives us tests. It's about the only class I don't skip a lot because I can just sit in the back of the room with my headphones and forget I exist for an hour.

Speaking of skipping…

"Ah, Mr. Storm, I've actually been hoping to figuratively run into you." Mr. Robot said.

I stopped, bracing for the worst. "Oh?"

"Yes, I would like to know if you are aware of the fact you have missed seventeen of my classes." He said, and while he probably wasn't trying to look intimidating, he was succeeding. "And," He continued. "If you are aware that without a proper note from your parent or guardian, missing that many classes is grounds for detention."

To be honest I should've seen something like this coming. This specific class was right after lunch, and whether I pass out from exhaustion, have bad anxiety, or even just don't feel like it, I have a hard time making it on time, if at all.

"No sir, I didn't know that." I said, feeling like it was the safest option.

"I see. Well, unfortunately I've already brought this up with Principle Sanders, and he requests a meeting with you during fifth period. And while I hope you have a plan to catch up on all the information you missed, I can talk to Mr. Sanders if you would be interested in a tutor." Mr. Robot explained.

While this was far from what I was bracing for, it still wasn't the best. "Thank you, Mr. Ro- I mean, thank you."

If you were paying attention, you might've been able to see his face fall, only for a second, before he returned to his blank, emotionless self.

"Well, I must go to class. Good day, Mr. Storm." He said, before quickly walking off, and within only seconds I was alone again.

The thought of talking to the principle was a little concerning, if he called my parents in then it wouldn't be pretty. Not that detention would be much better either

I started walking to class, hoping that by some magic I wouldn't be too terribly late to History, not that the teacher would mind.