You know, I'm not the best person in the world, and I know I'm not. I'm 16 years old, and I have no idea what to do in my life, I'm just a piece of shit. Actually, I'm worse than a piece of shit, I just don't like to admit it, because when I do I always get thrown into a bottomless pit of self-consciousness, self-pity, and self-sorrow. What makes it worse is that I'm a bastard and my step-father? Left me and my mother because our situation was too much to handle. Frankly, I don't blame him, my mother is crazy herself. Though, I never let anyone see it: how much of an insecure fucking kid I am, so I put up a facade, that I'm happy and care-free when in reality I'd curb-stomp someone to death because of my insecurities. So how do I 'cure' my problems? Easy: weed, drugs, sex, more weed, more drugs, and more sex. It's a never-ending cycle with a total fuck up with me; keep in mind I'm only 16, but I feel like I'm nothing and everything at the same time. That doesn't make sense now that I think about it, but whatever, it's how I feel.
Morning
One thing that I hate more than hangovers and bad sex is the fucking morning, anything but the fucking mornings. The feeling of tiredness and trying to wake up kills me mentally, physically, and spiritually. Every time I wake up I can't even get my head to think straight like I turn brain dead like I'm a fucking vegetable and what makes it even worse is that IT'S MONDAY, and you and I and everyone in this shit hole knows that Mondays mornings are torture form the depths of hell itself. I got to wake up because if I don't my mom is gonna beat my ass, and from experience, waking up is better than getting hit with an aluminum pot, or even getting boiling hot water dunked on you (a story for another day). Yeah, my mom's a little crazy, but I still love her, despite the fact I have to deal with her bullshit.
I groggily reach over for my phone and turn it on: 5:30 AM. I got an extra 30 min before I get ready, so I shut my eyes and went back to sleep, but here's the catch, I didn't go back to sleep I just laid there for 30 min until my heaven-sent alarm starting blaring its trumpets at me (sarcasm, I fucking hate my alarm). Well, here goes to the beginning of the week. I get myself prepared for school, I do the usual: wake up, hate my life, get dressed, have the morning smoke, eat something and head down to my motorcycle. For normal American teenagers, this isn't their typical morning routine, but it is for me. I headed down the apartment stairs to my bike. Oh, my beautiful bike, she a honda rebel, a true cruiser, and if someone says anything about how my bike is the generic cruiser bike I'm going to beat the shit out of you, it's my baby-my beautiful baby. I've done a lot of modifications to it, I can thank Mr. Martini for teaching me how mechanics work, even though he gave me an acid tablet by accident, but neither here nor there, I learned how mechanics work because of him. The results of his teaching gave fruit to the motorcycle I own. I took the cover off the motorcycle and began to start it up, I let it sit there to warm up, but then I saw a sticky note on my bike, "Left early to work, don't ride fast -mom." Now that I think about it, she didn't come into my room screaming and shit which explains the peacefulness. I wrap the cover up into a ball and head up the stairs to the apartment, I open the door and throw the cover inside, but as I was closing the door I saw my backpack that I had forgotten. I mean-it's not like it's important, all I had in there were some notebooks and a pillow. I'm being serious, I bring a pillow to school because who gives a shit. I head back downstairs towards my motorcycle and head off.
Completely disregarding my mother's warning I hit 90mph once I'm on the freeway. Today had to be a special day because once I hit 90 I heard the signature WHOOP from the men in blue we all know and love. Naturally, as a law-abiding citizen, I pull the handle down and easily accelerate to 100 mph, no way are they catching me now, plus, I'm going to be late and I have enough tardys to get an in-school suspension. I take the exit and I'm gone like the wind, they can't catch me in this traffic now because we are in the city. I swerve in and out of traffic trying to beat the red lights.
I arrived at my school, Barelaque public school, and I have 5 minutes left to get to class. I parked my bike, took off my helmet, and hauled my ass towards my class. Now I'm a fast runner, but going up three flights of stairs, not my strong suit, but I made it in time. My first-period teacher, Mrs. Rodriguez, and just for your information, she's a raging bitch who somersaulted through 3 marriages in 5 months. How is that possible? No idea but anything is possible in New York. A visible nerve is popping out from her forehead as I walk into class, she hates it when students walk into her class 10 minutes before the bell rings (yeah she's one of those teachers).
"Frank Keller," the 30 years of smoke and old dust come from her voice, "Is there any reason why you are late?"
"I got lost on the way here," I replied, now it's already the second semester, I already know my way around the school, but for the sake of coming up with something I came up with this.
"Really, you got lost, even though you have been attending for half the school year?" She jeered.
"Yes," I sat my sweaty ass in my seat, all the way in the back, "You're completely right Mrs. Rodriguez."
"Well…perhaps you'd be able to remember by doing some afterschool activities for me." Fucking hell, she's gonna make me carry those fucking papers again. This lady, I swear I'm going to send a box of elephant shit to her door, and as a cherry on top, I'm going to add a dildo so she can relieve some stress. Knowing that nasty woman she'd probably use the elephant shit as a lubricant. It won't be the first time I've sent her a bunch of random shit- shit that little catholic children shouldn't know about, but in all honesty, she deserved it; she has made me do the most random and tedious things just so that I can suffer. She never directed her menopause-fueled anger at anyone else- and David Neiman, the most intolerable son of bitch alive was in this class, and yet she'd never scream or acknowledge his existence at all, but for me? Completely different story, I was like her punching bag. I remember this one time she gave me some homework (just for me because I'm SpEcIaL ) and it took me at least 2 hours to complete, but with money comes great opportunities-I got the class nerd to do it for me.
Halfway through her class, I asked if I can use the bathroom, to which I got a, "Well why didn't you use it while you were scouring the school?" Yup, a grade-A bitch, to be honest, I was going to use the bathroom to hit my dap pen to make the class more bearable. I just have to wait until 2nd period, history- a class I genuinely enjoy.
2nd period
Now this class, history class, has to be by far one of the most chill classes I've ever had. Our teacher, Mr. Downswurth has to be one of the most down-to-earth people to walk this world, unlike Mrs. Rodriguez. Downswurth didn't give a shit as long as you did your work, I've walked into his class higher than a helicopter- and he'd know too, but only cared if you did your work and brought in decent grades on the test, which was a B and higher. However, what was a pain was his projects, which he'd actually take seriously when grading, but besides that, he's one of the best teachers I've ever had, hell if it ever came down to it I'd take him out to lunch because of how chill this man was.
"Alright," Downswurth started, "In today's lesson we are going to learn about Greek history, so if you don't mind can you please turn to page 78 on your textbook."
I fished somewhere under my chair to get my textbook, but to my surprise, it was actually there. Normally I'd have to use someone else's book, but not today.
Ok, 2nd period was boring, I guess Downswurth wasn't down for something exciting because he was pretty droid the whole time, like a basic teacher. It was weird, I just listened to my music and drifted into my own world. Thinking about what I'd do after school, maybe I'd visit Mr. Martini at his machine shop, actually, Dominican Ricky said he had something for me after school, something about a club or something. I'll go visit Ricky since he never let you down. Ricky was one of those friends that you knew was crazy like his parents are genetically messed up and it passed down to Ricky, so he's just mentally insane. He's one of those people, I remember this one time while I was riding for whatever reason-I can't remember- but Ricky called me and said to meet him at the neighborhood park. Naturally, I rode over to the park, he seemed relaxed, which only meant he had smoked some good green. The first thing Ricky said wasn't hello or any type of greeting, that's not like Ricky, instead, he said, "I got some tickets to a movie and some shrooms, you down?" Yup, that's my good friend Ricky.
The bell rang kicking me out of my daydreaming trance. I immediately got up and started to head towards the door, but Downswurth had different plans.
"Keller, I need to talk to you." He sounded serious, and when he sounded serious it only meant one thing: I'm detrimental fucked. As all the students walked out of the class, Downswurth motioned me to sit at the desk in front of him. I did as he wanted, I sat down at the desk.
"What happened Mr. Downswurth?" I asked.
"Just stay quiet and listen to me." Oh shit, he's upset, what the fuck did I do? "You did nothing wrong if that's why you think I asked you to stay back," Mr. Downswurth walked towards me and placed a chair down, and sat in front of me. He looked at me straight in my eyes, not batting an eye or moving at all, like a statue. We stayed silent for what felt like hours, not moving a single muscle or anything.
"So sir-"
"So Frank-"
We both said at the same time, I'll just stay quiet and let him speak.
"So Frank," He reached in his pocket and pulled out a necklace, it was a 14 karat gold Cuban link, "You lost this."
I don't recall having a gold chain, but it was an actual gold chain, it didn't look gold-plated or fake, but how can I resist not taking it.
"Ahh, I've been looking for it," I lied, "I've been searching for it like a madman, my mother even screamed at me for losing it." I grabbed the chain and put it on, you got to act the part, so I put it on making it look like it's mine. It wasn't heavy, it was pretty light, that made me think it was fake-I'll check it out later.
"Don't leave it lying around, it's expensive-14 karats Cuban link on your neck and you leave it lying around in this school? They'll take that in a millisecond. Be more careful next time, before they take that shit."
"Yessir, thanks for giving it back," I got up from my chair and started making my way towards the door, wait, I looked at my phone, I'm not gonna make it to class in time.
"Ayo, Mr. Downswurth, I don't think I'm gonna make it in time, mind giving me a pass?" I extended my palm for a pass.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to give it to you," He fished in his pockets and pulled out a yellow paper, "Here you go."
I grabbed the note and put it in my pocket, "Thanks, ight well have a good one." I turned around and headed out of the classroom.
I took off my chain and checked it, holy shit, it's real gold, I can sell this and make bank, or I can just keep it. Actually, I'm going to see how it looks on me. I went into the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror. Wow, that chain looks amazing on me, the way it shines and how it fits on my body as if it was made for me. Right then and there I made my choice: I'm not selling it, it's mine.
4th period
4th period is science, another fun class. It wasn't fun like history but we did fun shit in that class, like dissection and experiments, that is what made it fun, but I found all of this shit useless. What am I going to do with this, make cocaine and meth? Actually, that is pretty useful, but whatever, that's beside the point. Everyone noticed my Cuban link and I only got compliments; I took the chance to brag about it a little, but the teacher interrupted my ego-boosting session and ordered us all back to our seats.
Somewhere along with the class, I'd say around 20 minutes in, our teacher, Mrs. Bell, and some other girl students started talking about how there were some people you wanted to see naked. This was a normal occurrence in this class, I feel like science teachers are naturally crazy, like they can be fun but they are more crazy than fun. I can't say the same for my freshman science teacher, but the stereotypical science teacher was crazy, not normal, and had 2 marriages and a history of coke use behind them. I'm not judging them at, I do drugs and shit, I'm just saying, they all are like that. Like I remember our-
"Code red! Code red! This is not a drill! Code red!" The speaker blared, immediately everyone went into a panic, and I'm not gonna lie too, I was panicking as well.
"Ok, everyone get under your tables, you heard the speaker this is not a drill!" Mrs. Bell ran to the door and locked it, then she went into her closet and pulled out a metal baseball bat (yes, that was normal too). Everyone dropped under their table and stayed quiet, except for fucking ⭐Emily⭐ who started loudly praying and crying. All I want to say is thank god for Puerto Ricans, Ruben grabbed her and shut her mouth. Now it was completely quiet, all I could hear was my heart beating and the breathing of my classmate next to me. We all waited in silence for the speaker to alert us of our safety. Little did we know, it was never going to sound again.
My heart was beating so hard and fast, am I having a panic attack or something, the fuck is happening to me? There was nothing I can do but wait, and wait; we waited, and we waited.
We heard nothing, then a distant clop, and another distant clop, but it got closer every time.
"Clop, clop, clop, clop."
It sounded heavy as if a car was trotting like a horse.
"Clop, clop, clop, clop."
It was right outside our door, and nobody made a sound, not even ⭐Emily⭐. My heart started beating even faster and sweat starting to stream down my face. Then it stopped: the clopping, but it didn't last long. The thing outside started to hit the door, barging itself towards the door. It won't stop until that door is broken down; it won't stop until it gets inside. Still, we remained as quiet as lambs; no one made a noise, paralyzed in fear and shock. Then, on the third try from whatever was outside, the door burst down. I slightly moved my head to see what was coming inside, Instead, I saw Mrs. Bell, staring up, she let go of her metal bat and the metal clanged on the floor. I wished I never looked, she wasn't there anymore, all that was left of her was her blood, her remains, and her broken smashed-up bat. Then it was the closest student, and the next student, and the next student. All of us just waited; it was a murderous execution. There was blood everywhere, guts everywhere, death everywhere, and when it was my turn, I looked up at it. It was full of fur, and its eyes, glinted with delight and duty, like a mad scientist enjoying her job. It raised its hammer- I'm 16 years old, I've killed someone, I do drugs, I have sex without caring, I'm unsympathetic, that's not even scratching the surface, I have more to tell- and everything went black, oddly black.
Author's Note
Hey, it's me, the author. I always never know what to say whenever I write an Author's note so I prefer to keep it short and simple. This is a story I am revisiting from 2-3 years ago, I don't really remember. I wasn't satisfied with how I writing the story, so that's why I dropped it in the first place, but I'm here, trying to redo the story. I rated the story M because I don't like limiting myself and this story is mature, it's going to get very mature, with a lot of death, and more stuff ( I don't want to spoil), but I am going to warn you that there are going to be topics in this story that some people aren't going to be able to handle well, and to be honest, I'm not going to hold back with these future topics because this isn't a regular pjo story where the OC is all badass and is going to 'Rambo' his way through everything-no. Either way, I hope you can enjoy this story and the future chapters. :)
Ight, now I want to talk about Frank Keller, he is the main character and his favorite word is 'Fuck'. You are going to see him say that all the time. Now, Frank Keller- as you can see in the story, isn't a good person: he does drugs, he's cunning, a liar, and so forth. I want to say this again, he isn't a good person, he isn't noble like other pjo mc.
This chapter has 3,098 words (excluding the Authors note)
All characters belong to Rick Riordan except for Frank Keller and other OC's.
