My life is a living hell designed by God to curse me for some unspeakable evil I must have done in a past life. That's the only way I can figure my life out. Every morning I wake up knowing I'll be made fun of at school, bullied by whoever's there, and receive glares from my fellow juniors at my high school for being "too damn smart." As if I can help that I pay more attention to my brains than how I look? Plus they'll all go behind my back calling me the "smart queer guy." Does dyeing hair really count as a sign of "gayness?" Not in my viewpoint, nor should it be in anyone else's. Emos and Goths dye their hair black and don't get called gay but I dye my hair silver and that makes me Liberace.
I briskly strolled past my mother and the twins to go outside into 10-degree weather, wearing only a sweatshirt and jeans. I had to stand out here and wait for a rust bucket of a bus, unlike Evan and Ellen. When my twin brother and sister were born six years ago, I cringed at the thought of them being called by such lame names. The fact that I, an eleven year old, wanted my parents to change their names should have been a sign that the names were awful. This was one of those times when my parents decided to ignore me, but it wasn't the last.
Man, was it cold outside! To top off the torture of being sent to a poorly heated building, I had to ride the transportation device called a bus. A junior being forced to ride a rusty school bus of any kind is a disgrace. Not to mention that riding it causes backaches and takes twenty-four minutes when it should only take five. Today, however, the rust bucket was on time.
Once I climbed onto the bus and was as comfortable as could be expected, I stared out the window, remembering my dream the night before. I had had this dream every night for a week and had no clue as to what it meant. In my dream a figure with long, midnight colored, butt-length hair's back was toward me. The figure had a long, open, dark brown trench coat on, along with black pants. It shifts its head to the side and I can tell that the eyes are gold. Then, as if it sees me, smiles and I see a fang. The moment I glimpse at this fang, I'm wide-awake.
Every time I have this dream and nothing changes in it. How can that be? The dreamer, not outside forces, controls dreams. Then why is it that no matter how hard I try during the dream, nothing changes? I don't believe that's natural, but I've never dreamt much before. Maybe my best and only friend Lea could help.
Surprisingly the old rust bucket got us to school with minutes to spare for idle chitchat. I could talk to Lea before first hour! I rushed out of the bus to my locker where she was waiting in an outfit unfit for the weather outside. She was wearing a reasonably sized dark brown mini-skirt with knee high combat boots. Also she was sporting a sienna-brown top that tied around the neck.
"Interesting attire there Lea. You do know that it's 10 degrees outside, right?"
She raised an eyebrow and started to fiddle with her round, black pendant necklace. She whispered, "I know that, but it was hot this morning, so very hot. Must have been 80 degrees outside. Besides, I think this outfit suits me, don't you?"
I positioned both of my hands behind my head, leaned against the lockers and faced toward her. "What's wrong? You're not usually this quiet and despirited about things, especially on Monday."
Lea laid her head on my shoulder and mumbled, "Too…hot to be spirited."
I gave her a gentle shove and said; "First hour is about to start, so I'll see you at lunch 5th hour. Got it?"
I heard a grunt as I ran toward my first hour class, Honors Algebra II. What idiot assigns math as a first hour course? Nobody was awake yet and it was an Honors class. As soon as I sat at my desk, I fell asleep.
It seems to me that High Schools don't demand much of you. I was asleep First and Second hour, and basically asleep Third and Fourth. Fifth was a breath of fresh air because Lea was back to her old self, as I discovered in the lunch line.
"Hey! I was here first, skank!" A kid yelled at Lea, who had cut him in line. Oh boy, I thought. He is in for it.
Lea's chest puffed out indignantly as she extended to her full 6 feet. She gave him an icy glare that made the sun shiver and spoke in a dangerously low voice, "I. Am. Not. A. Skank. In fact, I was hot this morning so I decided to wear this outfit. I really don't give a damn what you say to me, but then you sure as hell better be prepared for the chance that I might be angry, and sonny…" She said with a smile, "I'm pissed off."
The guy (probably a junior) behind the kid spoke up and entered the verbal bash. "If you don't care what we say, then why are you so pissed? Or are you going against your own logic?"
Lea's fury was so chilling that I'm sure it would've been nicer outside. Her eyes looked so blue that the people around Lea stepped back. " I am angry because it's not expected. And if I allow one person to get away with it, I'll have no end of trouble. Not that I couldn't solve it with fists. Though, I didn't think that the two of you were masochists."
By now the kid was quivering so terribly, he looked like he'd crumble if someone touched him. The guy, in contrast, seemed to be holding his temper back in order not to smack Lea. No one moved for a while until the lunch lady yelled, "Keep the line moving'!" Lea smiled with a small nod to both and went to get her lunch.
When she reached my table she started eating, as if she'd forgotten all about scaring the kid and pissing the guy off. I placed my sandwich down and stated, "That kid will never talk to you again and that guy will seek revenge."
"Well, I can handle revenge. As for the freshman, too many people judge me without getting to know me. Am I honestly dressed in a way to deserve being called that?" Lea asked.
I glanced down at my slightly molded orange and started to peel it. I figured that questions like that were better left unanswered. I kept peeling the orange, ignoring her stare.
"Well?" She demanded again and I knew I had to answer.
"Well, it…is unusual this time of year," I said, trying to beat around the bush.
"It's mid April." Like that was a reason. I rolled my eyes and decided that instead of beating around the bush, I'd plow right through it.
"Lea, it's 10 degrees outside and you're wearing an outfit that would make a blind man drool. That is how you define a slut. But I know that you're not like that," I added hastily. I might be plowing through the bush, but I didn't want to get hurt in doing it. "People…people…are idiots. They only look at the outside, so they can only assume the worst of you."
Lea seemed satisfied by this answer and continued eating her pasta. I wonder how anyone could eat something that looks like dead worms, but I kept my thoughts of school lunches to myself.
I started to eat the orange, savoring the juicy goodness. Today hadn't been that bad, as far as bulling went except during third hour. Somebody tried to trip me and Roger Holler threw his backpack in my face "accidentally." I received a scratch on my check as a result, but it clotted up almost instantaneously.
As if reading my thoughts, Lea asked, "Where'd you get that scratch?"
I hesitated, because I knew that Lea would yell at me for not standing up for myself. But, I reasoned, she'd find out either from me or someone else. "Roger threw his backpack at me."
"Again?" Lea asked. She sighed and continued by saying, "You are my source of exasperation. Why don't you stick up for yourself? Roger is just an ass and he'll stop if you tell him to."
No, I thought, he won't. The guy hates me and would never stop until I died. The thought cheered me up. Someday, when I'll have died, Roger Holler will live with all the guilt of his bulling to me. A smile spread across my face. The day I died would be a day when everyone thought of me. Even my parents would notice that I existed.
"Ivan!" My thoughts were interrupted by Lea shaking my shoulders with a hard jerk. "Were you thinking suicidal thoughts again? I don't care if you are, but do it when I'm not here."
I laughed, remembering our agreement. When Lea and I became friends, I told her that I had planed out many suicides and just hadn't had the courage to take my life yet. She glared at me and said she didn't care if I dropped dead then and there. But until then, she stated, let's be companions. We won't have regrets then because we aren't friends and at least we'll make it through middle school without having to sit alone. However, somewhere along the way we'd become friends. We knew each other so well, and knew what each other's dreams were.
Speaking of dreams, "Hey Lea, can I ask you a question?" Now was as good a time as ever to ask her about my strange dreams. She told me to ask away and I told her everything that I remembered of the dream.
"That's not normal Ivan. I barely remember my dreams; much less have the same one once a day for a week's time." Great, not only was it strange to remember the dream, it was ten times weirder to have it every day this week. Lea was about to tell me more, when the bell rang.
"Dammit. Well, why don't you tell me more tomorrow Ivan? If you have it again, then we can look some stuff up." She picked her stuff up and walked out the doors. I hurried along too, seeing as how history class was so far away.
The rest of the day went as any normal school day. I got called fagot only once by someone. It was the guy from lunch line who'd been pissed off at Lea. Turns out that his best friend is Roger Holler and that they're both in my third hour. Tomorrow I'd probably get beaten up.