Jaxon
Jaxon woke up to the sound of his mother's footsteps in the hall. He knows she tries to walk quietly, but more often than not, she happens to wake him. It's not her fault really. Jaxon is a light sleeper. He always has been. Since he was a baby. Even if it was a bird chirping at dawn outside his window, he would wake up.
He layed staring at the ceiling fan, the rickety old thing, spinning up a storm. When he was younger, he was scared the fan would come loose while he slept, and fall on him. But after a year of the fan, he realised it is quite sturdy (and after swinging on it, but thats not the point.)
He rolled over and looked at his fogged up window. It was winter, but he always slept with the fan on, because he hated the sound of the traffic outside. Even at one o'clock in the morning, the cars were speeding by on the main road.
He looked at his school uniform hanging on a wire coat hanger. His grey school trousers, white long sleeve button up shirt, grey jumper, black school blazer and black tie, and black polished shoes. He resented the uniform. His mother bought it many sizes to big, so that he could wear it through till high school.
With a sigh, he pulled his leaden limbs out of his bed. The cool morning air prickled his skin. He slipped his pyjamas over his head, and shrugged on his school uniform. He looked in the mirror, and looked at his scrawny frame in the mirror, seeming to swim in his school uniform.
He left his mop of brown hair income, and dragged his beat-up school bag out of his bedroom door and down the hall. His mother was in the kitchen, dressed in her pink and white maid dress. He didn't like his mother wearing that dress. She was a beautiful woman, and that dress made her look like a washed rag with no shape. It made her pale skin and pale blonde hair look like one, like she was a blob of melted marshmallow.
"Morning Jax," his mother greeted him with a smile. Her son was her pride and joy. The only thing she really lived for, but he didn't need to know that.
"Morning mamma," he greeted back, reaching for an apple in the fruit bowl. Well, there wasn't really another option, but it was something.
He bit into it, and pulled a face at the sour taste. His mom smiled to herself. He doesn't seem to learn, but that's part of him. And she wouldn't change that for the world.
"You have to get going soon, lunch is in the fridge," she said, kissing him on top of his head, and grabbing her things.
"And wash your hair when you get back,you smell like you slept in a stable," she said with a smile, pulling the heavy front door shut behind her.
Jaxon sighed. Today was another Thursday. Boring, with the same routine followed every day.
His maths teacher, Mr. Nullings, drove past him on his red bicycle. It's not that he couldn't afford a car, it's just that he cant drive one. Because in high school, while every body was learning for their driving exam, he was solving quadratic equations. He told all his classes that every Monday morning, some of the students could tell the story word for word.
Jaxon passed the old lady's garden, like he did every morning. The purple flowers were covered in frost, her black cat lazily flicking its tale on the windowsill. But something was off about the house today. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something wrong.
It gave him a feeling of unease, but a thrilling throb of excitement came with it. Something about today was going to be different. He just knew it.
