Third period was nearly over from what the ringing bells of the large orange building behind me had managed to tell me. I, of course, was still out in the freezing cold, busy finishing my very last cigarette in an effort to erase my conformist level nerves and unchecked rage. Thankfully, my shitty morning had mostly calmed down by now. With no faggy twilight vampire ripoffs anywhere in sight to put forth utterly feeble efforts to 1-up me the only way they knew how and no more things to drop and lose to the wind, I was safely in the clear. The only thing left to bother me now was a numb body and the cold mountain air around me. However, that did nothing but calm me further. The quiet of this shitty little mountain town was admittedly much nicer when compared side-by-side to the ambiance [Hometown] had offered me day-in and day-out. Disgustingly enough, it made me almost thankful that we'd moved. However, it didn't make me any happier about the fact. At least when I was in [Hometown] I was able to be among my own kind.
A small sigh escapes me, and the air immediately condenses into a foggy cloud that blows past and dissipates. I take a final drag from my cigarette and remove my hand from my pocket. Carelessly, I drop the butt onto the ground and proceed to stomp it out underneath my black combat boots. Oh, to think that I had been in such a panicked rush to get here earlier.
I turn around and walk back over to my bag that I'd abandoned over by the concrete steps. I bend down and sweep the backpack up with a quick swipe. I take a moment to look at it, staring into the black outline of closed eyes with at least four lashes extending off of them and the triangular mouth with it's round edges, before I finally slip it on over my shoulders. I needed to go inside and get this day over with already. I didn't want to have to go home and fall into an argument with my conformist parents over why I hadn't shown up to school on my very first day. I begin my short-lived ascent up the five steps leading up to the orange bricked building and head towards the doors. After putting on my most neutral face I push open the windowed double doors before me and walk inside. I pause as the bustling hall falls still and everyone's attention redirects itself to me, I scan the room, making eye contact with almost every person who filled the large open room.
The linoleum floor still held the school mascot in the very center of the room with the team being proudly splayed around it and the trophy cases still looked as dusty as they had when I'd been brought in this weekend. Despite the large amount of students lining the entrance way, the room still held a generous amount of space which allowed various cliques to be scattered about. There were a handful of basketball jocks over by the aforementioned trophy case, the artistic Asian girls who were littered around the stairs, at least three emos (including my faggy older brother) over in the far corner next to the doors I'd just walked in, a small group of cheerleaders off to the right just a few feet past the trophy case and next to the far right stairs, the class clowns—possibly the losers who were on the far left corner by the railing of the upper half of the room by the entrance to the far left corridor, the one weird white kid who was—for whatever reason—in one of the trash cans by one of the support beams closer towards the door, and in the middle of the room just a bit off-center leaning towards the left and standing atop the green lining that surrounded the derpy school mascot stood yet another faggy black basic (or maybe he was an actual vamp kid? I didn't see any fangs in his mouth)—either way he was standing with some blonde kid who was obviously his polar opposite that apparently was talking the poor brunettes ear off. Other than that there wasn't many more people that stuck out to me all that much.
After finishing my little assessment of the room, I roll my eyes. Of course everyone here was stereotypical. Where were the non-stereotypical kids? Did this town even have any?
I take my first step forward and as if a switch had somehow gone off in the room, everyone had gone back to their respective conversations. I continue my stride, heading right for the steps that the artistic Asian girls had taken over. I weave my way through the now uninterested girls, managing to catch glimpses of the yaoi they were doodling. It seemed to be of some blonde kid who doesn't know how to button his shirt and some guy in a blue chullo hat. I squint at one drawing in particular that could very much so be classified as inappropriate for a school setting. But, I just chose to keep walking. I wasn't going to bother asking what show or manga the two were—holy shit is that them?
I watch with a quizzical face—not that I had an issue with being gay, it's just that they went to our school and these girls were drawing porn of them—as I walk past them. The boy with the chullo hat was holding hands with the blonde who kept erratically jerking and twitching as he sipped his coffee, occasionally spilling little droplets on himself. I make eye contact with one of the friends they stood with, a brunette with a varsity jacket who winked at me. I cringe in disgust and choke back a gag as I turn my attention forward.
I stuff my hand into my [left/right] jeans pocket and briefly dig around inside it.
Pocket knife, backup lighter, keys—Ah! Schedule.
I pull out my crumpled up schedule. It takes a moment of my attention as I weave through the crowd of nameless faces to unfold and smooth out the practically destroyed schedule. And trust me, when I say destroyed, I mean it had a huge tear across the middle that cut through the layout containing close enough to everything that I needed to know to get through the year. Of course it still had all of my classes and what little information that had been added in, don't get me wrong. But, in the corner it had my locker number and combination which had to be scribbled into the corner by the principal because whoever made the schedule was too stupid to put it—along with my name—on the paper above the class list.
Locker Number: 221
(18-3-21)
As I power walk down the hall, I habitually glance between my schedule and the lockers that I pass by. I couldn't remember which side it was on. Which, worry not, wasn't surprising at all because it was a Saturday that I had to spend here. So of course I had other things on my mind at the time.
Upon finally reaching my locker, I stop and take a few seconds of my time to glance between it and my schedule a couple more times to make sure. Unfortunately for me, a couple of stray cheerleaders were standing in front of it, talking about something I couldn't care less about. With an annoyed sigh, I walk over, pushing the two girls aside by their shoulders and thus interrupting their Oh So Important™ conversation. Now that I was finally standing in front of said locker, I once again double check between the schedule and the actual locker number, confirming to myself that yes, this was indeed my locker for the year. All that I needed to do now was spin in the combination, pop the fucker open, store my shit, and get to whatever class I had next.
No problemo. Today will be over in no time.
I slip my backpack off of my shoulders and allow it to fall to the floor, it's impact creating a loud thump that most likely drew a little attention. But hey, what didn't draw attention to me at this point?
I take hold of the combination lock and spin in the combination, managing to fail a whopping three whole times in a row.
Of course.
The world wasn't done with me just yet.
With loud sigh of frustration, I let go of the lock. Tiredly, I rest my forehead on the locker and allow my arms to dangle in front of me.
"Well, well, well," A shrill voice from behind you remarks condescendingly "If it isn't the new kid. Having locker troubles?"
I turn to the owner of the voice, who turns out to be one of the two cheerleaders I'd shoved out of my way when I'd walked up to my locker. She was short—possibly the shortest person I've ever seen in all of my 16 years of life. She was pretty petite too, a tiny little thing with a voice so high that if she talked any higher she would most likely hit a frequency that she could only torture animals with, rather than the humans around her. She wore her hair big and wavy, it shined so much it could be mistaken for plastic, just like the rest of her. Her uniform was clearly modified to be more provocative than it needed to be. The band of her skirt was probably on her waist, possibly even higher judging by how it came to her mid thigh. Meanwhile, her shirt was pulled down as far as it could go and I had no idea as to how she made it stay there. Perhaps it was just her obnoxiously huge—
"You do know that school started at least two hours ago, right?" She snaps, no she literally snapped her fingers at me
"You do know you look like a whore, right?" I deadpan
"Excuse you?" She exclaims "At least I don't look like a–a—"
She brings a hand up to rest on her chest as she stares at me with widened eyes. Her face was quick to scrunch up the second she heard the first syllable leave my mouth. The redhead cheerleader beside her covers her mouth in shock, possibly to hide some sort of laugh judging by the creases on her face. I turn my entire body around and stalk up to the blonde. Honestly, she was somehow even shorter up close.
"A—what? " I challenge
She visibly stumbles for some sort of an insult, her eyes running up and down my figure over and over again as she stammers.
"Look, I don't know what your daddy taught you in clown college," I tell her "But judging by your makeup and the way you talk, then it wasn't much."
A gentle chorus of ooh-ing fills the hallway and I throw a bitter look at all who dared to watch this unfold before returning my attention to the bitch in front of me.
"But in here," I explain, pointing down at ground between us "In public school, most people actually make a daily effort to not walk and talk like walking stereotypes and dried up clichés."
I lift my hand and point in a random direction down the hallway to dismiss her. She childishly stomps her foot and balls her hands up into fists that stand out straight by her sides. The blonde cheerleader puffs her cheeks out, her face red from either anger or embarrassment, I didn't bother to decipher which.
"So get the fuck away from me," I hiss "Before the scent of burning plastic damages someone's lungs."
"Excuse me.. excuse me.. sorry! Coming through!" A much softer, less high pitched tone comes from within the silent crowd
I look up in the direction of the noise. My focus is immediately drawn to a considerably tall girl, with black hair that reaches halfway down her back that held a lilac colored beret firmly in place atop her head. She wore an open jacket of the same color, which really disagreed with the green and white scheme of her cheerleader uniform. She pushes her way through a small portion of the crowd that blocked up the hallway to watch the quarrel before them. I watch her with suspicious eyes as she nearly sprints over to the blonde before me, who smiled warmly at her. She stops beside her friend and wraps her arms around a single arm belonging to the other girl. She looks up at me apologetically.
"Bebe, leave the new kid alone," She whispers to her friend "You need to stop picking on people."
The blonde just giggles and puts a hand up to her friend's ear where she whispers something I can't quite catch. I narrow my eyes at her out of bitterness and spite. The blacknette shakes her head in reply.
"Unbelievable." She huffs
She starts to drag the girl off through the crowd as I begin to calm down.
At least not everyone in South Park is a complete jackass.
"I'm really sorry about this! That's not our usual South Park welcome, I swear." She sputters
She turns back to the crowd.
"That's it people! Move it along!" She barks "No fights today!"
A collective chorus of disappointed aw's comes from the crowd as the circle brakes up and for the second time since I'd walk in the doors, people go back to what they'd been originally doing. The bell rings just in time and the hallways begin to clear out, which leaves me to turn back to my locker, that I still needed to open.
Oh happy happy joy joy.
With a small sigh, I once again grab the lock, figuring that I might as well give the combination another shot—or fifteen. I input the combination a few more times, and after at least three more tries, I finally manage to get the damn thing unlocked. I breathe a relieved sigh as I remove the lock and pop the locker open. I turn to my bag and bend over to unzip it. It takes a couple minutes of gathering. But soon enough I had everything that I wouldn't need for the day gathered up in my arms, ready to be stowed away. I straighten up and turn back to my locker, taking a step towards it so that I could better reach inside. I was just about to start organizing things into it when suddenly it's slammed shut in my face.