I do not own any of The Twilight Saga books or any of it's character. The only thing I do own, is the character Tom Phag and the rest of his friends and family. So, please don't sue me Stephanie. This story contains mature language and future sexual content. Humor is also added. Read on your OWN caution.
I looked at the map, trying to memorize it; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck under my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can fucking do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite my dick off.
I kept my face pulled back into my fur hood as I walked on the sidewalk. My first class was building seven. It was a small building with no windows. I felt my breathing quicken as I approached the door. I tried to hold my breath as I twisted the knob first thing that I noticed about the classroom, was the interior design. The room looked like an actual museum. Except, none of the artifacts where worth anything. It was, like, a museum made for junk. The next thing I noticed, was several pair of eyes content on staring at me from the door frame.
"Uh...Hi," I waved towards the class. Nobody said anything. They just kept on staring at me like I had an extra leg coming out of my ass.
Tired of feeling like a fool, I took the green slip up to the teacher, a tall, bald man who looked like he was at least in his late twenties. If I was a girl...I would defiantly have a one-nighter with this teacher. Why does this school hire hot people to work near young, horny children? The bald teacher had a nameplate identifying himself as Mr. Senegal. He chuckled at me when he saw my name- not an encouraging response- and of course I turned an angry red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. Imagine if you had to stand in front of twelve, or more, people telling them that your name is Phag, while you are a heterosexual man. Not a good first impression.
As I walked down the aisle, my fellow classmates tried not to make eye contact with me. I gave each one of them the glare of death. The only person who didn't avert their eyes was a boy, who would be sitting directly behind me for the rest of the school year. As I slid down into my new desk, I felt as if the boy's eyes were protruding my back. Knowing that this would be my permanent seat, I decide to make friendly with the bitch.
"Hey. I'm Tom," I told the boy behind me. The boy was... very... very... beautiful. He was chalky pale and was also lanky, not that bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He had the weirdest eye color I'd ever seen. It was freaking golden! He also had dark shadows under those eyes- purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if he was suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though his nose, all his features, were straight, perfect, angular.
This weird, angle-like boy continued to stare at me with a blunt expression; as if I was speaking in a different language. Then, his eyes turned to pity, like I was a homeless man on the streets begging for money.
Getting tired of the awkward silence, I turned back around to face the chalkboard, where Mr. Senegal was starting his lesson about early civilizations across America. So that is why he has all this useless junk scattered around the classroom, I thought to myself. This is a history class.
I kept my eyes down on my spiral notebook, deciding that I should blow off Mr. Senegal's lesson. Unconsciously, I started to doodle. Twenty minutes into class, the bell rang.
"Freedom", I said to nobody in particular, as I rose from my seat.
"Excuse me," said a velvet voice. I turned around and saw the beautiful boy looking at me with his chalky hands folded in front of his mouth.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked him.
"I just wanted to tell you, that this is, actually, not your freedom. You have 127 days left with this "Bitch" behind you."
I stared at the dude. He finally decides to speak and he tells me this crap! What did I do to him? All I said was hi. I felt another awkward of silence coming, so I hastily grabbed my belongings and high-tailed out of there.
"That was a close one, huh," a girl asked me once I made it out the door. She was pretty, in that Indian way. She had long black hair that was braid into a one piece. She had very high cheek bones that expressed her vivid smile perfectly. Black eyeliner was showing off her green eyes. Weird. I never seen an Indian girl with green eyes.
She kept staring at me with that huge smile. It seemed as if she wasn't going to go anywhere, until I said something. "Yeah. I guess that was a close one."
The girl laughed. "Hi. My name is Gurlean Smith. But everybody calls me Gurr. Just like a cat's growl." She extended out her hand. Together, we shook hands.
"You're Tom, aren't you? The mayor's nephew?" She looked overly helpful, the student council type.
"Yeah," I said. It was weird, standing outside in the rain, talking to a girl I don't know. Back in Houston, people aren't that friendly.
"Where's your next class?" she asked.
I had to check my bag for the map. "Um, Geometry, with Mrs. White, in building three.""I'm headed toward building four, I could, like, show you the way..."
I smiled tentatively "Thanks. That would be great."
We started on our way to building four. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid. And if any if these noisy freaks decided to say something stupid to me, like that weird boy back in history, I swear I would start swinging.
But, I wonder why I didn't I hit the boy when I had the chance? I usually act on instinct, but instead I ignored him. As if nothing happened. I didn't even cuss him out. I wanted to find out who the dude was. So I put a hand on Gurlean's shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.
"Uh, I have a question for you," I told her.
She looked at me with that huge smile again. "What? What is it? You can ask me anything."
"So, who was that dude behind me, with the brown, almost red hair?" I asked her.
Gurlean giggled. "That was the Edward Cullen. Very shy, if you ask me. You usually just see him when it's raining. I don't know why he talked to you like that. Whenever he does talk, it's a pleasant sound," she paused for a second. "Unlike the way he was with you. Calling you a bitch wasn't very nice."
I bit my bottom lip. "He actually didn't call me a bitch. He declared himself a bitch," I told her. But I do remember calling him a bitch when he didn't stop glaring at me. Almost like he heard what I was saying inside my head.
"Weird," Gurlean said.
"Yeah, weird," I echoed back to her. Only if she knew how weird it really was.
"So, this is a lot different than Houston, huh?" she asked me as we continued on our way to building three.
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?
"Not as much as it does here. Back in Texas, we called it the bipolar state. The weather there can switch from rain, to sunshine, to tornadoes, to a blizzard in one day."
"Wow! What is that like?"
"Very aggravating," I told her.
We walked around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Gurlean walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.
"Well, good luck," she said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." She sounded very hopeful.
I smiled at her vaguely and went inside.
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