Lame chapter. Pretty much just background stuff. Song: "Troublemaker" by Weezer/"Trouble" by P!nk. I don't really like these songs, but I think they fit. Please review, I want to know how I'm doing. Thanks to anyone who did review or favorite this story. Please enjoy chapter 3!
I found a seat near the back and motioned for him to sit next to me.
Jonathan looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks," he said quietly, looking away.
"For what?"
"For... Standing up for me. Eddie tries sometimes, but he kind of gives up after a while. There really is no point rationalizing with Jack. He just changes the subject, or turns your words around on you."
I sighed. "I've noticed. Is he always like that?"
Jonathan frowned. "Yes and no. Jack has a somewhat split personality. Sometimes he's really happy and easygoing, and other times, he can be really moody. And trust me, when he's in a bad mood, you don't want to make him mad." He shrugged. "I've gotten used to it, and after a while so will you."
I hope so, I thought, turning my attention to the teacher as the bell rang.
The class turned out to be more interesting than I had expected. Most of the class was spent talking about how to identify common mental disorders. It was quite fascinating. Jonathan seemed particularly good at it. I was impressed with how much he knew about this stuff.
When the bell rang, Jonathan and I parted ways and headed in opposite directions.
My next class was algebra. I sat down, again in the back, and watched the others file in slowly. Jack came in last, looked around for empty seats, saw there were none and sat down next to me.
"Heya Rosie," he said, licking his lips. I grimaced.
"Don't call me that."
"Whatever you say Rosie."
I always found algebra particularly difficult, but then again, I wasn't good at math. I stared blankly at the worksheet in front of me, wondering where to begin.
Meanwhile, Jack was scribbling furiously on the page. He sat back to admire his handiwork, then began to tilt back in his chair.
"You're finished?" I asked, looking at the completed problems.
He nodded. "It's easy. You don't get it?"
"Well, only one problem," I lied. "But it's fine, I'll figure it out."
He shrugged and began to throw his pencil at the ceiling, aiming for the tiny holes in the tiles.
"Why are you doing that?"
He glanced at me, then threw his pencil again. "I'm bored. Hey, wanna see a magic trick?"
"Um, no."
"Aw, c'mon, you'll like it." He grinned.
"Fine, but hurry up." He smiled slowly and caught his pencil.
"Okay, I'm gonna make this pencil-"
"Mr. Napier and Ms. Donovan, would you like to share with the class what is so interesting?" Mr. Moore asked.
Jack looked like he wanted to say something, but I pinched his arm and glared at him.
"Nothing, Mr. Moore. We were talking about the math," I said politely. Jack huffed and slouched down in his chair, frowning.
"Good. Let's keep it that way, shall we? Now, your homework is problems 1 through 22 on page 115," he continued, writing the problems on the board. I copied the assignment down into my notebook, while Jack tried to get his pencil to stand up.
"Ta-da!" he sang, gesturing at the perfectly balanced pencil.
"Was that your magic trick?" I asked, unimpressed.
"Nope. But we don't have time for that now. Some other time," he said, glancing at the clock.
"Yeah, sure," I said, gathering my belongings and hoisting my backpack over my shoulder. The final bell rang and I made my way outside.
I clambered off the bus when I reached my stop, waving goodbye to Eddie and Jonathan.
I heard quiet footsteps behind me and turned to see who it was. Jack was there, a few yards behind me.
"Are you following me or something?" I called to him.
"No," he called back. "I live down there. In the house at the end. Whaddya think I am, some kind of creeper? "
"Oh," I mumbled, ashamed that I had assumed he was following me. "Never mind." I slowed my pace, allowing him to catch up to me. He fell in line with me, keeping my pace.
"I like your hair," he said, fingering one of the bright red curls. "What color is it normally?"
"Brown. That's why I dye it. I think it's boring." I unconsciously jerked my head away, and he lowered his hand.
We walked in silence for a bit. I looked over at him and saw him staring off into space.
"So..."
"So what?"
"I dunno. What's your favorite color?"
"Green I guess. Or purple. Either way, I someone has to make the "Barney" joke. That's how u got suspended the first three times."
I didn't know what to say. Suspended? Three times? But even more unbelievable was that Jack got teased.
"Sorry," I whispered.
Jack looked at me quizzically. "For what?"
"I... Nothing. Never mind," I muttered, looking at the ground.
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
"Well, this is my house," I mumbled, pointing at the white house in front of us. He nodded, saluted me sarcastically, and continued on his way. I watched him walk away, then unlocked the door to my own house and went in.
"How was school honey?" my mom asked, coming home a couple hours later.
"Fine," I answered, turning down the volume on my mp3 player.
"Just fine? Did you make any new friends?" she asked, kicking off her heels and sitting on the edge of my bed.
"I guess." I looked up at my mom. She was staring at me, her blue eyes filled with concern.
"You should be nicer to people, honey. If you want to make friends you have to-"
"Mom, I do have some friends. Even if I didn't it doesn't matter. I'm perfectly happy by myself."
"But it's not healthy to be all alone. The brain needs human contact." I rolled my eyes. That had been her excuse for years.
"And I do have human contact. I talk to you, I talk to Dad. What else do you want from me?"
She frowned. "Well, for starters, you could be a little nicer to your father."
"Why should I? He hasn't done anything for me." My mom sighed, kissed me on the top of my head, and left to change out of her work clothes.
I turned back to my silver laptop, checking the school website. I moved my mouse over the newspaper icon and clicked it. In the search bar I typed "Jack Napier."
Instantly, the page flooded with words. I skimmed through the headlines:
"Student sets fire to gym."
"Jack Napier suspended- again."
"Schoolyard riots become a problem."
"Ninth grader causes mayhem."
The list went on and on. I didn't understand how this natural troublemaker hadn't been expelled. He'd been suspended -apparently more than three times-, burned down parts of the school, and caused mass mayhem. How was he still there and not in Juvie?
I heard a knock at the door and quickly closed the tab. "Come in," I called.
My mom opened the door. "Phone. For you," she said, tossing the landline at me.
I picked it up and answered it. "Hello?"
"Heyy, Rosie! How's school going?" my dad asked in his overly cheery voice.
"Fine," I answered stiffly."Where are you?"
"We just landed in Japan. I'll send you a souvenir, if you want." My dad was a fancy schmancy businessman. He was always traveling to exotic places and trying to buy my love with expensive gifts. He hadn't lived with us since I was nine, when he and mom had gotten the divorce.
"Whatever."
There was a pause. "Did you make any friends at school?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yeah."
"Oh really? Who?"
"Just some kids. Jack, Eddie, and Jonathan." I inspected my fingernails, not wanting to think about the conversation.
"Oh. All boys again?" he asked, disappointed.
"Yeah, so?"
"Sweetie, you need to have some girl friends. It's unnatural for you not to."
I groaned. Here we go again. "Dad, I know what you're thinking, and I'm not gay."
"I'm not saying you are! I just think it's strange."
"Whatever."
"But... Sweetie, I want you to know that no matter what you turn out like, I still love and support you."
"Do you wanna talk to mom?" I had to end this before it got any worse.
There was a silence. "Sure sweetie. Why don't you go get her?"
"Mom, Dad wants to talk to you!" I yelled.
My mother rushed in and took the phone from me. "Don't yell." She frowned down at me, her mousy brown hair falling in front of her face. "Hello? Richard?" she said, holding the phone to her ear. "Yes, I know," she said, smoothing her skirt over her legs. "Okay, sure."
She walked absentmindedly out of my room, listening to my dad talk on the other end.
I clicked to Google on my computer and looked up Gotham High. Tons of articles flashed on the screen, mostly course descriptions and things like that. But one article from an online newspaper caught my eye:
"John Arkham buys Gotham High school. Daughter Elizabeth was appointed as the school therapist weeks later and is still..."
The rest of the article was on the full website but I didn't bother checking it. John Arkham... Where had I heard that name?
I turned off my computer and flopped back on my bright purple pillows, sighing. John Arkham, Jack Napier, Richard Donovan- the names swam before my eyes until the room faded into blackness.
My alarm clock beeped loudly, waking me from my dreamless sleep. I looked at the time: 7:55. I had to get up NOW if I didn't want to be late for the bus.
I had fallen asleep in my clothes, and hadn't had a chance to eat dinner... Or shower.
I changed into a fresh T-shirt that said "Save The Humans" across it in red letters. I grabbed a pair of grey jeans and threw them on. I ran my fingers through my hair and ran downstairs to find something to eat.
My mom had already left for work, so I threw a pop tart in the toaster and poured a glass of coke. I know, not the healthiest breakfast, but I didn't feel like making real toast with milk.
I snatched the pop tarts, chugged the milk, and made my way to the bus stop. Jack had beat me there this time, and I came to stand next to him, finishing my breakfast.
He smirked. "Don't your parents feed you?"
"Ma' left 'or work," I said with my mouth full. Jack snickered.
"Gross."
"Sorry," I said, swallowing.
"I like your shirt so you're forgiven."
"Gee, thanks."
The bus arrived then, opening the doors to let us climb in. We took our seats in the back and started talking about random stuff- music, movies, books that we had never read and didn't plan to. It was nice.
I guess this is the easygoing Jack, I thought to myself. I kind of liked seeing him like this. Maybe he'd stay like this all day.
No such luck.