Chapter 1:
I drummed my finger tips on the top of my desk, irritating my classmates sitting around me. I didn't care what anyone thought because in a couple of minutes the bell would ring, releasing me from the Nazi camp people called school. This time when I ran to my car, I wouldn't have to return to Hawthorne High for a good three months.
Our English teacher, Mrs. Sloane, gave us the last five minutes of class to "communicate amongst ourselves"; as if I would like to talk to any of these low-lives scattered around me.
I swiveled my head, taking a good look at the losers next to me.
Let's see, hmmm, Tommy Phil. Ugh, I hadn't ever said a word to the guy and I already didn't like him. Two first names bother me, like their parents thought their child was too good for just one. Stupid Tommy Phil.
Joyce McAlister. Slut. I watched her apply her lip-gloss as if the stuff she put on a minute ago had disappeared into thin air. I wondered what would happen if she ran out of the one-hundred tubes of them that she had in her purse all at once. Maybe her lips would chap and fall off. What a splendid thought.
Clickclickclick. And that was the unmistakable sound of all around nerd Bobby Fargo nervously clicking his pen, something he did when any social activity was advised by a teacher. The kid definitely needed a friend something fierce. I bet if he clicked his pen fast enough, a genie would come out (like in Aladdin, except this is the loser version where there would be no lamp to rub) granting him three wishes so he could wish for a fellow dork.
Psh, where's my genie?
"Ohmygawd," Joyce gabbed to her BFF/pet Courtney James. "I am like so glad summer is here, I think if we had another day of school, I would've gone completely insane, like 'shopping at Wal-Mart' insane."
I wondered if Joyce knew that I sat directly in front of her, and that Courtney sat right in front of me. Maybe she thought since I didn't shop at Abercrombie & Fitch that my brain couldn't compute the actual words that came out of her mouth. I also wondered if a person was capable of being that stupid, but then again, this was Joyce I was thinking about.
"OMG! Joyce, I don't think you would do that even if you we're insane!" Courtney's response was so loud it jolted me in my seat; I wasn't prepared to be screamed at. I looked at her with a glare of annoyance. She didn't get the message. Her eyes stared past we with the look of glass. Courtney was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Her eyes were still creepy looking, you know, like she's there but no one is home. Must be a side effect from getting everything you wanted or maybe she was huffing paint. Another mystery I was not eager to solve anytime soon.
"You're right Court, I would never do that. And if I ever tried to do that, would you please kill me before I got there. Being in that place would destroy my rep."
Wow, even I didn't think Wal-Mart was that bad. I mean come on! She would rather die than take a step into a place that had such low prices (or so they say). That wasn't my preferred store, but I didn't avoid it like it was Satan himself.
"Ok, I promise, as long as you do the same for me. I was thinking that on vaca…"
RIIIIINNGGG
FREE, FREE AT LAST!
I scooped up all my notebooks and practically flew out the door. I stopped at my locker to grab my already bulging backpack, and then crammed the rest of my stuff into it, barely able to get the zipper closed all the way. I tried not to make eye-contact with the other ecstatic students so I wouldn't be stopped in my mad dash to the parking lot.
My friend, Leslie, fell into step with me. "Hey, Evan," Leslie always called me by my nickname. My real name was Evangeline, meaning bringing good news, but I hated how lengthy and uncommon it was, so Evan sufficed. Leslie began to slow down from my pace we were approaching her locker. She must've thought I was going to stop and wait for her. Not a chance in hell. "Hey I was wondering," she began.
When she stopped, I kept walking. "Can't talk now, call me!" I shouted over my shoulder to my friend who was staring at me like I turned into an albino chipmunk. Whatever.
I looked straight forward again so I wouldn't run into anything, or anyone, I was known for doing stupid things like that.
I reached my car with an unusually large grin on my face and opened the door. I loved my car, the most expensive thing in my possession. Though my parents were against buying me random things I didn't need, they really cared about transportation. Of course my Honda Civic was not as glamorous as some of the other cars parked out here, but it got me from place to place without looking like a piece of crap.
My backpack was so heavy, I actually grunted when I threw it into the back seats. I dropped myself into the driver's seat, inhaling the smell of the leather interior. Instead of staring idly in front of me like I do on normal school days, reflecting upon life, I put Joe (Yes I named my car, I have issues) into reverse and got the hell out of Hawthorne High's parking lot.
As soon as I left, I felt like I just got my life back, a freed prisoner from Freight County's public education system. Well, not yet.
I had to go pick up my little brother, Bryce, at Freight Middle School, the only place worse than Hawthorne High.
I remember my years in that school as my 'awkward years'. The years where I wasn't a child anymore, but I wasn't yet an all out teenager. Middle school sucked, especially 7th and 8th grade years. That was when drama ran high, and most of the things that were taught were of common knowledge. Everyone was so ready to go to high school.
Bryce was waiting for me when I pulled up in the carpool lane. He looked like he did everyday, emotionless. Typical 7th grader. He sorta shrugged to his friends as a way of saying 'goodbye', then opened the door, threw his stuff in the back with mine, and sat down in the passenger seat.
We sat there together in silence as we waited for the parent in front of us to get her kid. Obviously this was the parent of the only kid hard of hearing in the whole entire school because we sat there for 3 minutes listening to the mom screaming, "DREW, DREW, DREW, GET IN THE CAR, DREW," while nobody moved out of the clump of students to make the psychopathic mom shut up.
After I believed one of my ear drums imploded, I pulled around the crazy lady so I could get on with my life.
"So, how was your day?" I tried to make polite conversation.
"Okay, I guess," was as detailed of an answer my little brother could think off. He kept flipping his dark brown hair out of his eyes. I always wondered why skateboarders always had bangs always in front of their eyes and were still able to maneuver a piece of wood on wheels around rails, ramps, etc. That was beyond me.
Joe stopped at a red light, that gave me enough time to stare at Bryce. "You bastard child," Bryce and I always cussed in front of each other even though our parents were against that sort of thing, "you're keeping something from me."
Bryce knew I was just kidding around. We had a sorta playful relationship, most of the time.
"What happened," I inquired.
"The light's green," he responded.
I smirked and rolled my eyes before I pulled forward.
Such a bastard child.