Jesus, I hate it when that happens. HERE YOU GO.
No one questions you as to your injuries when you step into class, not even the teacher. You slip into the back, taking your seat next to the girl with purple eyes. You like her. She's never said a word to you, never given off any intention to care about you but she doesn't hate you either. You've seen her watching, you know she's seen you being picked on multiple times. She just stands there and watches, almost as if she's interested. In what? You'll probably never know. Her name is Rosalyn Lalonde, as you know from when the teacher calls roll and from glancing at her bright purple colored notebooks. She wears purple contacts every day, except one day a year that you assume is her birthday because everyone makes a fuss about it. She has one blue eye and one brown eye.
You scribble idly in your notebook as the teacher talks, the constant ringing in your right ear preventing you from listening properly. Not that you're paying attention anyways, busy sketching. You like to sketch people, with their infinitely varying sets of variables and different thoughts, feelings, and personalities. No two people are the same, not even remotely, and you find them amazing to sketch. To capture the essence of. If she weren't sitting right next to you, you would have drawn her. But you don't, because she is.
The hour passes slowly, no one says a word to you except a single barked derogative near the end when a jock had the chance. Not that you care. It's not like it burns itself into your brain like everything else. You're just fine. You have graphite stains all over your fingers and the desk but you've come up with a drawing of your chemistry table partner. Netta, you think her name is. She's very energetic and willing to complete the projects herself as long as you get her candy or something that particular day. She has pretty green eyes and wavy orange hair, and she always wears this one cat ear headband and her blue tail. Her nose is tweaked a bit to the side and her canines are the biggest part of her smile, her ears are small but a bit pointed like elf ears and she has about a bazillion freckles covering her cheeks and nose. Her hair frames her face nicely and she's all lithe curves. She's pretty, yes, but you of course aren't interested. You like to draw her, though. She loves your drawings but her boyfriend Zach is super protective so you always keep them, just showing them to her during class. She's one of the only people at this school who have ever actually talked to you without calling you some horrid slur, she's very nice to everyone and is of course protected by her monster of a boyfriend.
You have a five minute passing period before chemistry, you stand outside the door and simply work on shading her eyes just right when the pad is ripped from your hands and sneered at.
"Aww, does Davey-wavey have a little crush?" The feminine voice laughs, holding it out of your reach with her long spider-like arms.
"Hey! Give that back, Vicky!"
Victoria Circuit is pretty much the bitch of the school. She has porcelain fang implants and deep blue eyes that steal your soul and devour it right in front of you. She has the blondest of blond hair, rivaling yours in color that waves down all the way to her waist. She dresses like a blue gothic. You actually had a crush on her when you first arrived at this school, of course that was before you figured it out. So she's taken the liberty of personally antagonizing you.
"Looks like little Davey's trying to pretend he doesn't wanna fuck his brother! Hahahaha! Aww, you want your stupid drawing back?"
You scowl at her. She knows you can't hit her because a) she could kick your ass and b) if you hit her first she can play the victim. You settle for yanking her arm down and grabbing the notebook, leaving yourself unprotected for one second. Of course she knows you're doing so, and punches you right in the face during that one second. You fall to the ground flat on your ass, you can't believe you're cowering from a girl but she terrorizes more than half of the biggest guys in school.
The bell rings and she laughs at you again, disappearing off to her class and leaning you to gather your things, shuffling into Chemistry. Netta must be absent today, she doesn't show up. That's fine with you, she's good friends with Victoria and probably wouldn't be happy that 'you' had 'instigated' a fight with her. Hmmph. You're the one with a black eye, you didn't lay a hand to that bitch. You can feel one forming anyways, she hits fucking hard. You're going to have a hell of a time explaining that one off.
You have a quiz today, and it's fairly easy. Multiple choice and everything, it's even on oxidation numbers. You could do this in your sleep. The only sound in the room is graphite scratching across paper and your mind easily transitions into your art class without even realizing it, you don't remember Chemistry ending or walking across campus but here you are. You shrug, continuing to draw a nice sketch of your brother. You're starting to put this morning off, shoving it into a corner of your mind you don't give a damn about right now. It's just you and your drawing until the bell rings.
You calmly pack your things up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and heading outside. You don't eat lunch, either. You find eating rather unnecessary most of the time, honestly. You think you'll take a nice long walk but it's just your luck that you run into a group of jocks having a smoke behind the school. This makes even you pale and halt, skittering backwards and dropping your backpack to see if you can run for it. You can't. One of them grabs your arm, laughing, and drags you back to the group. Dean, you think his name is. You aren't sure. They encircle you, playing some sort of pass-around game where you're the ball and they're shoving you roughly to one another. The leader, Dean(?), decides to move it along and sock you in the gut. Effectively winding you as he grabs your arm, yanking your sleeve up and grinding out his cigarette against the scars littered there like the side of a highway. Your arm is numb with white hot pain and your world whites out in panic, you thrash desperately and try to breathe, scream for help but nothing comes out and it's torture. The other four or five join in, more pain tossed on top haphazardly and you're not sure how much longer you can hold on. To what? You don't even know what you're holding on to anymore, it could be your consciousness or it could be your sanity.
And then it's over. You're left curled in a ball of pain and short whimpering breaths, you think one of them kicked you as they walked off but you can't feel anything but your burning arm. You don't know how long it is that you lie there, alone and dead inside, but eventually the bell rings unpleasantly and forces you to get up, tug down your sleeve, and make your way to your next class.
That's right, you have Public Speaking after lunch... The teacher, Mrs. Maryam, she's probably one of the only reasons you're alive right now. She listens to you and doesn't call you a liar or try to tell the principal about what's going on or anything. She gives you advice and is generally just a shoulder to cry on for you. It's very nice.
The class goes by rather quickly and you rush to her immediately afterwards. You have a free fifth and you always spend it with her. She simply smiles and hands you an index card with an address written on it.
"David, I am afraid I cannot be here for you this afternoon. My daughter is sick and requires my presence. I feel a nice cup of coffee might help you out, I enjoy frequenting this cafe not too far from the school. I want you to visit it during your fifth hour and tell me what you love most about it tomorrow. I am sure you will love it."
You nod quietly, rubbing your sore throat as she walks out and slipping your backpack on again. You glance over the address and pocket the index card, walking out after her and right out the double doors at the end of the hallway.
Alternia Cafe, 41309 W. Andrew Ave.
So how has this been? Do you guys love it or what? I love writing it. I promise I'll get around to the other things but for now I think I'll stick with this...
Sorry. Heh.