UPDATED: July 4th, 2-17.
As I said in the previous chapter, I am currently going back to the old chapters, correcting the many mistakes I seen to find in every chapter and putting a bit more interacting and dialogue within every chapter. Some scenes may be different, but most are still the same!~
Feel free to continue reading this as I go along, or continue waiting for the other (newer) chapters. Which I assure you, dear readers, is coming to you soon.~
P.S: Please don't hate me because I am taking forever to update this story. I'm not doing it on purpose I swear!
Chapter 2.
March 12th 1984.
Monday.
As Allen rolled over inside the heap of blankets on top of his bed with a dreamy sigh escaping his smiling lips, he blearily looked over to the night stand by his head and gave a tired yawn as he re-read the glowing red numbers on his analog clock.
7:37 A.M.
He hardly got any sleep that night.
He stayed up practically all night, stressing about what he could possibly sing for the band audition that he was planning on going to that day, constantly fretting over what he should where while he did so as well. How he regretted it now. Especially since he didn't even decide on what to wear and what to sing yet.
He was tired, beyond tired and he still had to go to school that very same morning!
Yawning loudly once again, he finally got up from the comfort of his blankets with a muffled groan and stretched his tired and aching limbs. His tiny kitten meowing in contempt at being jostled around at such an un-Godly hour as it gave a shrill hiss.
"Sorry Tim," He weakly apologized with a tired smile. "I have to get ready though, so please excuse me." He stated down to his kitten, who is now curling up on top of his pillow with an annoyed flick of it's orange tail.
Allen sluggishly moved his legs down to the floor and shivered hard at the floor's rapidly depleting temperature. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he couldn't help but smile warmly at his kitten as he patted his soft furry head, taken notice of the white patch of fur on top of his kitten's head, was much bigger than it was before.
With a curious tilt of his head and a little chuckle, Allen swiped his thumb across the kitten's forehead. "You're an odd little kitten, Timcanpy. We're perfect for each other." He stated with a happy grin, before jumping out of bed.
"Mew?" The kitten meowed after his master as it soon followed Allen out of the room.
Allen smiled down at the kitten that pitter-pattered beside him out of his room. "Yeah, I'm going somewhere, Tim. But not anytime soon, I gotta eat first!" He eagerly replied.
He first went to the kitchen, which is just a few feet away from his room to the left. Located just across from the kitchen was his very vacant and abnormally large living area, and beside his bedroom on the right hand side was his bathroom.
As he walked past his wobbly 70's styled kitchen table, he went over to his pastel colored green fridge beside it and opened the refrigerator door. Upon opening the door, he emitted a long and tired sounding groan.
He forgot to buy groceries the other day; so all he was looking at; was a carton of milk, a twelve-pack of bottled water, six packages of mustard and a half-empty bottle of ketchup.
"Alright…Toast with no butter. Could be worse—right Tim?" He asked his tiny kitten that sat itself upon the table, the tiny kitten, who began staring down at Allen as he continued to bend over inside the fridge. Absolutely no expression to the kitten's furry face, it's eyes however, were narrowed in either annoyance or contempt.
Fine, just look at me like I'm crazy… Allen thought with a small frown.
The cat sluggishly meowed an annoyed reply and began cleaning it's face, no longer feeling the need to give the human his attention. But no sooner had the kitten meowed, did Allen smile brightly.
Getting up from his hunched over posture from within the fridge, he walked over to the bread box placed right beside the refrigerator and pulled out two slices of bread, hopping over to the oven that sat adjacent from the table that is pulled up right against the wall, all snug and cozy inside it's den of counters and appliances, he looked around his kitchen with a displeased expression.
If there was a family living inside this house, only two people would be able to cook inside the kitchen...And even then, that's pushing it. The teenager noted dryly in his head. His kitchen was compact, just like the other rooms inside his house; save for the living area.
He quickly opened the oven door and stuck the bread inside. "No toaster? Then an oven would do just fine! Wouldn't it Tim?" He asked the kitten, who only continued to stare at him like he was a mentally deranged person talking to a one month old kitten with his head in the oven.
And maybe he was.
He was beginning to force himself to be optimistic that morning, but why shouldn't he? Not only had for forgotten to buy groceries the other day, he also forgot to buy every day household items, forgot to unpack the silverware and he still had a lot of his own stuff that he had yet to organize, so therefore, finding the right ensemble for today was going to be difficult. Especially since all the boxes that are his, were named by Cross himself and simply titled them as: "Allen's useless shit", "The brats shit" or the ever popular, "Stuff."
So he had no clue which box held his clothes.
Allen felt that today was going to be: "One of those days…"
Straightening up from within the oven, after carefully placing the slices of bread inside the stove and turning the oven to a hundred degrees — fully knowing that the vintage look the oven was sporting, it would probably take some time before the stove managed to heat up.
His lips soon puckered to a pout when he happened to glance down at his attire. Damn it all…I still have to get dressed! He thought as he starting sprinting to his room.
"Remind me about the toast, Tim!" He hollered over his shoulder.
Running into his room and skidding to a halt in front of his many moving boxes, all piled high and propped up against the wall, he hastily hopped over an empty box by the foot of his bed in order to grab his favorite long sleeved button-up white dress shirt that he could clearly see was sticking out from a corner of a box titled: "Stuff." He soon pulled out his worn out faded black jeans that he had threw into the closet the night before, but gasps loudly (and very dramatically) at the oil stain he finds chilling at the bottom of his pant leg.
"That wasn't there before!" He roared furiously as he angrily licked his thumb and started furiously rubbing the damp appendage along the oil stain, trying in vain to rub it — and wish it — away.
"Meow?"
Allen pursed his lips at the stained that refused to move and looked over his shoulder down to the orange and yellow ball of fluff that was his kitten. "Oh, hey Tim." He greeted happily, before glaring back at his jeans, still rubbing the stain. "Sorry, can't talk. Want this stain gone!" He shouted to high heaven as he slam-dunked his jeans onto his bed in frustration. Wanting to sulk before school starts.
That is, until he smelt something odd.
Then his gray-blue eyes widened when realization happened to slap him across the face.
"My toast!" He gasped in dismay as he flung his dress shirt onto his black blanketed bed and ran out of his room into the smoky kitchen area.
Glad — just for this second of the day — that the fire alarm was broken.
And again, he was still trying hard to be optimistic.
Allen looked furiously down at the watch strapped around his wrist and muttered a curse under his breath at the time he saw.
Yes, he had managed to catch the bus, but he had to run down at least five blocks in order for him to do so, he also managed to trip up the stairs of the bus in his haste to find a decent seat near a window, then he got laughed at by the bus driver himself for his clumsiness.
And even with all those mediocre accomplishments, he was still 5 minutes late.
So all he has now, to show for his efforts, was a nasty looking bruise on his knee and a small scrape on his shin, and a bus driver to reluctantly face.
Lifting his head up to stare wide-eyed at the intimidating, yet plain looking, murky gray four-story building in front of him, he took-in the school's over-all size and design and nearly shivered at the thought of the long trek up the stairs to get to his other classes.
Craning his neck to get a better look at the large school that had a black Rose Cross hung up in the center of the building with the initials B.O.H in-scripted inside said cross, he flipped the brochure held within his gloved hands.
The "Rose Cross" is part of the Catholic Church that the Vatican upholds. Reading that tid-bit of information at the back of the school's brochure, he looked back at the school in confusion, he takes another long hard look at the brochure in his hands.
Cross, his alcoholic foster father, had handed him that brochure three weeks back and had said (Read: Lied) to him that: "This place is just like any normal high-school brats like you, go to. It's a public school, no dress code or nothin'. So be happy I didn't send you to military school like I had originally planned, runt."
So maybe this "school" was actually a church and maybe it did have a dress code, but maybe it doesn't, only one thing was for sure…
This is going to be my new high-school until I graduate… Allen thought with a barely with-held groan of derision.
As Allen ventured further into the parking lot of the school, he noticed then just how much teenager's were walking into the building. Initially, he wasn't even aware of the teenager's presence around him, he noticed instead what they were wearing.
Some teen's had on bright colors, while others wore bland, almost pale and washed-out-looking colors, complete with blazers and baggy pants. Some teens wore solid black, some girls were wearing long stockings that reached high up to their thighs, to go along with their short plaid skirts and some teenager's were even wearing 70's-styled bell-bottom jeans with brown leather belts wrapped around their waists! (Talk about retro).
Some teenager's had red bandana's wrapped around their heads.
They must be trying to start a gang...Allen soon rationalized as he pounded his fist in the middle of his palm. Then he carried on with his fashion critique.
Over-all, most of the teenager's were wearing black leather jackets, while others wore jean jackets. Various other students had on vest's, with an assortment of buttons and patches all along the front. He had also seen a clique of girls actually willingly wearing knee-length skirts with poodles on the bottom (now that was too mega retro for his tastes) and some of the more risque' girls — that in Allen's innocent mind — earned them a golden ticket to prostitution in the future.
Some of the older boys, he assumed were the seniors; wore stonewashed, ripped, or faded blue jeans with the names of famous bands on their shirts, their hats, their back-packs, nearly down to every article of clothing that they could possibly wear on their person.
And Allen knew right then and there, that he would stick out like a sore thumb in this school.
Because not only was he the only one wearing a white-dress shirt, complete with a black tie that wrapped around the collar of his shirt, he was also wearing pure black jeans, black converse shoes and was sporting black gloves. He was also wearing his poorly sewn grey jacket, with his hood pulled all the way over his white head. Allen also noticed that some of the male students had the same style of clothing that he had on and he finally felt as though he belonged somewhere for once.
Although his fashion sense may be a bit more higher in standards and in color coordination...
He knew that he had fashion sense and he also knew that he could put an excellent outfit together, but he highly doubted that that characteristic would make him become fast friends with the other students in this school.
Allen groaned for the second time he had set foot inside his new school grounds and continued to leisurely walk his way towards the large high-school building.
Students were lined by their trucks, their vans and their beat up old cars, that sat in the parking lot in front of the school.
As he walked by the large crowd of teenager's, he could hear them whispering in hushed tones and glancing every once in a while over their shoulders in his direction as he walked by.
They're talking about me…Allen noted inside his head with a small frown. He knew that they must've only been looking at the red colored scar over his left eye and at his pure white hair, but they didn't have to make their gawking that obvious. I mean, my hair is white. Who in their right mind wouldn't notice that attribute first? He didn't ask to have any of those characteristics, they just happened out of bad luck.
He counted the stairs as he made his way up and let his gloved hand run along the light blue steel rail to his left. He counted all together, that the school had fourteen stairs, out of pure boredom.
Both of the blue doors to the school were opened wide, revealing the long hallway inside, filled with dark blue lockers on either side of the walls with a janitor closet just beside the doors, and three classroom doors all in that one hall alone. He also saw a bulletin board with many schedules about the school's semester and all of the students extra-curricular activities.
And of course, he can clearly see loud and socializing teenagers filling the hallways.
Some of the students lingered by the water fountain, bragging about football, while others gossiped on trivial teenager matters and some students were simply talking about things Allen couldn't quite understand, mostly all of them, talked excitedly about grass.
What's so great about their grass here…? Allen thought with a confused expression.
As he continued his way down the hall, trying to be as inconspicuous as a white-haired teenager with an oddly shaped reddish scar over his left eye, was possibly capable of—he noticed then that the classes in that one hallway, were the classes that he had decided to take this semester. His classes, which was Math, Advanced Literature (meant just for the seniors) and Science.
He also had Physics and his last class was Advanced Psychology.
Allen looked around the student and staff filled hall, looking from left to right as he finished walking through the first hallway. To the right of him were stairs, with students sitting all along each step and to his left, was another long hallway with many more lockers and classes.
Giving a confused look at each of the classroom doors he happened to pass by, he dug inside his pants pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper.
He wrote down his classes on the paper. But unfortunately, not the directions to them.
Not only was there that little problem, but he also had no clue on where to find the Principal's Office.
"Where on God's green Earth, could it be?" He asked himself lightly under his breath as he continued to pass by many more classroom doorways and lockers, not fully paying attention to where it was he was headed.
"Need help?" A kind voice asked; a voice belonging to a teenage girl, from the left of him.
Allen quickly turned his head and finally took notice of the tall, yet petite looking girl, who was probably Asian by the exotic look she had to her pretty and fair-skinned face. The girl was standing where he hadn't seen her standing not ten seconds ago, beside a classroom doorway with her hands held behind her back as she wore a charming smile.
Allen looked down to the clothes she was wearing—call him cautious and kind of judgmental, but he kind of liked the theory of: "Judging a book by its cover", he preferred living to that rule, than trusting anyone with a pretty face.
She wore a short black skirt, a fitted white t-shirt with The Ramones logo on the front, which she wore underneath a baggy long sleeved black and white checkered shirt, which was tied in a knot at the center of her stomach. She was also wearing high heeled boots that covered her calves as she wore a dark sweater around her thin waistline.
He blinked, odd fashion sense. But they looked great on her, "I like your outfit," He commented with a shy smile as he nervously scratched his cheek. She must've felt weird that I've been staring at her. He mentally scolded himself.
"I'm Allen Walker…New student," He quickly introduced himself with a fast wave. "I need help finding the Principal's Office…?" He trailed off uncertainly, nervous smile still alight on his face as he glanced back down at the paper in his gloved-hands.
"I'm Lenalee Lee, I think your style is pretty ace too," She replied with a quirky smile as she began walking down the hall, "My brother's office is just down this way." She said over her shoulder to the nervous teenager, who quickly took her side with a bright smile.
"Why thank you." The shorter boy said with a gleeful smile.
"Whatev' no prob," She replied with a small shrug, causing her long black pony-tail to bob behind her.
"I hear a slight accent to your voice, are you from…" She trailed off with a finger pressed to her chin in thought. "Taking a guess here, so don't blow a gasket if I'm wrong, okay?" She quickly interjected, hands raised in show of surrender. "Scotland?" She asked the teenager beside her as she curiously titled her head to the side, watching his reaction, expecting him to accuse her of racism for her mistake.
But instead, she smiled when she happened to hear him chuckling quietly.
Allen soon shook his head. "Great Britain, actually. I moved from London when I was 13. I could guess how you can easily get mixed up, though. We do have a similar way with how we pronounce things." Allen replied with a grin.
Lenalee soon smiled brightly. "Ha ha! If you ask me, I took a horrible guess! You dudes sound nothing alike." She hung her hands up in surrender. "Just kiddin' A," She laughed as she saw the odd expression she got from Allen.
"'A?' Is that a nickname?" He asked with a small smile. He never really had a civilized nick name before…Other than the nick name he got from Cross, which was "Little Bastard."
Lenalee laughed again. "Yeah, if you don't mind me butchering your rad name…?" She asked raising an eyebrow at the teen beside her.
Allen waved his hands in front of his face. "Not at all!" He replied with a grin. "I rather like nicknames…Just as long as they're not along the lines of my height or my hair, then we're alright." He finished with a charming smile.
"Tubular." She replied grinning back.
They continued walking down the white hallway, passing by many lockers with profanity spray painted all along them and some written in permanent markers as well.
Allen looked at the lockers and noted inside his head with an amused smile, that the Americans certainly have a way with curse words and crude drawings.
They we're actually pretty well-drawn and well specific in detail. Allen thought blinking at some of the more detailed drawings of some of what the students think about this school.
Not that he liked them or anything.
But some certainly have a way with curse words.
Lenalee gestured in front of her towards the door, snapping Allen out of his musings. "This is my brother's office, he's the principal here. But don't get your panties in a bunch dude, he's a pretty cool principal. He'll give you a good grade if he thinks it's too low," She commented with a sly wink. "I should know, he grades most of my work when the narking teachers give me a low mark." She whispered in secrecy, Smiling deviously at the white-haired teenager.
Allen walked to the office door with a wary smile. "Isn't that what others would call…Abuse in authority?" He whispered quietly, hand-cupped around his smiling mouth.
Lenalee crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk. "Call it whatever you want A. But I call it, 'being a loving brother'." She replied defiantly, then waved with a smile. "See ya later Allen!"
"Thanks a lot Lenalee…But if you don't mind…" Allen trailed off uneasily. Causing Lenalee to stop and look over her shoulder. "Could you, wait for me perhaps?" He asked with a nervous kick of his black sneaker to the floor.
Lenalee shook her head with a smile. "I don't mind at all! Just make it quick-like, 'cause the bell is about to ring any sec now." She said grinning.
"I'll hurry!" Allen called over his shoulder as he rushed through the office door.
"Hello?" He whispered quietly as he shut the door behind him as he glanced around the empty looking office. "Is anybody in here…?" He whispered, a little more loudly this time.
But again, there was no answer.
As he was about to leave, until he heard soft snoring coming from the pile of papers on the huge desk in front of him.
He gives the desk a confused look, having to squint in order to see more clearly and upon looking more closely, he happens to notice a man sleeping within the pile. The man had his head down on the desk, making Allen wonder if that really was the principal of the school or a janitor taking a nap; he also saw a white béret laid beside the sleeping man.
Allen gave the sleeping man an odd look before striding his way to the man's side to poke him in the ribs lightly. "Hello…? You okay?" He asked with concern, more worried than he was before. Maybe he's drugged or beat up?
He had way too much experience with that before.
Then he heard a rough and bored sounding voice come from behind him.
"Don't mind him; He's just an idiot...That's not how you wake him up either by the way." Stated a tall blonde and spiky haired man, stubble sprinkled his chin lightly as he walked to the desk.
Allen could hear a slight accent in his voice. Australian perhaps…? He watched as the tall blonde man sashayed his way over to the desk of the principal's desk and bent down to whisper something into the ear of the snoring principal.
Something that Allen couldn't quite make out.
How did he come in here anyways? I didn't even hear him enter the room! Allen thought as he looked behind him towards the door. Seeing it still fully closed.
He jumped back startled, when the man suddenly shot up from the desk, tears streaking down his face and papers sticking to his forehead and cheeks.
"NOOO! My sweet dear Lenalee! How can you get married and then run off without telling your big brotheeeeeer!? Whhyyyy?" The principal wailed loudly, sniffling obnoxiously as snot leaked down his nose.
Making Allen cringe at the sight.
The blonde man beside the crying principal shouted at him to shut up and Allen watched in horror as the blonde man lifted his fist to swiftly strike down on the head of the principal's skull.
The guy just hit the principal of the school! Allen yelled inside his head as he was about to turn around and bolt it out of the room to call for help.
"Oh! Reever!" The crying principal shouted as he looked beside him. "I didn't hear you come in." He stated, blinking in confusion, before he started crying again. "I had a terrible nightmare!" He said with a broken expression as if he just remembered his outburst from earlier.
The blonde guy, apparently named Reever, shook his head with a sigh of exasperation. Then he gestured towards the white-haired teenager as he buried his face in a hand. "I wasn't trying to get your attention, HE wanted you to wake up Komui," Reever replied, walking over to the coffee machine and pouring two cups of coffee, adding sugar and cream into one cup, but leaving the other cup plain black.
Allen shivered at the cup of plain black coffee. Yuck. He thought as he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in displeasure. Not really sure how anyone can drink just plain coffee.
"Oh! You're the new student, Allen Walker!" The principal, named Komui, announced with a grin.
Allen turned his attention back to the principal. Wasn't he just crying his eyes out a second ago…? Allen thought with an odd expression on his face.
Komui held out his hand with a grin on his face as he reached over the desk in front of him. "It's a pleasure to meet you; I'm Komui Lee. Principal of Black Order High! I'm pretty sure I spoke to your Legal Guardian on the phone am I right…?"
Allen nodded his head and quickly took the principals hand, also having to reach across the desk in order to reach Komui's hand. "It's nice to meet you too Mr. Lee." He greeted with a smile.
Komui waved his hand. "Please, just call me Komui." He said smiling as he looked down to the folder in his hand with a considerate hum.
Allen could only guess that the duo-tang in Komui's hand, held his permanent records of the previous school's he had attended.
Komui hummed to himself with a stern expression. "You're in grade eleven…And it also say's you're an ace student. Straight A's from all the school's you have gone to…Wow your one smart cookie huh?" Komui said, impressed.
Allen only nodded his head. Cookie? No one called me that before…Does anyone call a person cookie these days? He had to smile at the nick name though. Not wanting to get on the principal's bad side on the first day of school.
Komui hummed again as he looked back down at the file in his hand, tapping his chin. "Why are you enrolling in Black Order High, when it's almost the end of the semester in just two more months?" Komui asked, looking at Allen with a serious expression.
Allen shook his head with a sad sigh. "Well…Cross never really liked staying in one place for too long and we moved here just three days ago, he ordered me to go to school…It's not a problem is it? Because I know how to work hard and I can catch up really fast!" Allen exclaimed, a nervous bead of sweat leaking down the side of his face.
He really didn't want to repeat the 11th grade, not only that, but if Cross found out that he's not going to school like he ordered him to do…He would skin him alive.
To his relief, Komui only waved the question away.
"That is no problem at all! We can easily get you caught up on the books, give you extra study time, and maybe have you stay once in a while after school for a group study…But you have to be the one that really works hard and buckles down." Komui replied, pointing an accusing finger to Allen in a scolding manner. 'Because I don't want a smart kid like you failing the eleventh grade because of some ridiculous foster father." He stated with a roll of his eyes.
Allen gave Komui a bright smile as he saluted him. "I can work hard!" Then he frowned. "It really is Cross' fault for making me enroll here so late into the semester though." Allen explained with a scowl.
Komui laughed. "I know! Cross doesn't really think before he acts…It's how he gets into so much trouble sometimes." Komui said with a sigh and a sad shake of his head.
Allen hummed in agreement, he could get along with Komui, especially since he knew so much about how Cross thinks.
Komui smiled back to Allen. "But I'm glad you really want to pass though! I've never seen a student really wanting to work as hard as you want to Allen. So that's great!" He rejoiced as he throws the file back down on his desk then grabs the plain black coffee cup handed to him by Reever and takes a long shot.
"You can go to class now, the bell is about to ring." Komui stated with a warm smile.
Allen nodded again and waved a good-bye.
Wanting to hurry for Lenalee's sake.
"Also! Allen!" Komui called after the almost bolting teenager with a bright smile.
Allen turned around with an odd look.
"I'm sorry you had to live with Cross Marian of all people for five years." Komui stated, an apologetic smile spreading across his face.
Allen stiffly nodded his head. "I am too." He sighed. "I really am…" He said, oddly serious.
He really wasn't kidding.
Nothing much to say here, except I know some of you will be bummed that I haven't updated yet...I'm terribly sorry. Just please have patience. Believe me the chapters are coming.
-Hella