I slammed my hand on the bedside alarm clock before climbing out of bed. I got up and stretched out the obtained knots and kinks in my back; then made my way over to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and then washed my face. Since I took a shower before bed I decided to skip that step and brush my black hair in a wave-like style to the side.
I didn’t want to do anything special to it since it was a Monday. Mondays were my worst days out of the week. Meaning it’s the ‘I don’t stress about anything I don’t need to stress about’ day. That’s what Fridays were for anyway.
I moved to my closet and threw on the first pair of pants and shirt that I laid my eyes on. Which just so happened to be a pair of dark denim jeans and a plain black tee-shirt with the words ‘Psycho’ printed on the front in a thriller type, red font. I put on my black Timberland's and made a quick pace towards the steps; where I grabbed my signature leather jacket.
On my way out the house I grabbed my orange book bag and an apple from the fruit bowl my mom had sitting out.
It was a Monday, and my house was in walking distance to the school. Since I was pretty early in getting dressed and out the house, there was no rush to get to the crowded hell hole we all call high school. So I found no use in driving my car to and from school everyday, especially since gas prices were always on the move skywards. Gas prices plus driving to school everyday for no reason was just a big red light. There was no point in doing it.
Plus the extra workout is always greatly appreciated. It helped keep me in shape without have to actually think about it. Because of my hard ass appearance it was hard being a little...accepted into the school with open arms. Most people at the school were either afraid of me, fawning over me, or downright just didn’t like me. All because of the way I looked and dressed.
Which was pretty stupid considering the fact that I dressed like I just stepped off a runway. I looked fine in everything I wore.
I guess you could say I had a sort of emo, edgy, bad boy vibe going on. I even had a large intricate tattoo sleeve. It was in the design of tightly interlocked roses and skulls, with vines of thorns and pricks. The tattoo went along the whole of my upper arm to across my broad chest. When my mom first seen the red, green, and black ink she almost had a heart attack. I didn’t blame her since I almost had one sitting in the chair getting it.
Despite all of my outwardly bad-ass appearance, I’m really chill and gentle. I’m actually a lot nicer than what most people would think. It’s really hard to get that point across when you're the epitome of a bad boy though.
Sometimes all I want is for someone to just care for me. Not like how a mother, my mother would care for me, but more so as a partnership thing. Like I just want someone to try and dominate me or show me basic human functions. Something more than just a timid whisper, or a glaring eye. Even a love note attached to my locker by some girl or guy.
Is that so much to ask for from a guy like me?
I spend most of all my time caring for my mom. If not that then I’m at work; and the only reason I work is because my mom is always too sick to work. Let alone care for a seventeen year old wannabe baby. I guess I have to grow up at some point. Does that have to be right now is the million dollar question. Do I have to hoist all of these stressful responsibilities on my shoulders?
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my momma, and I would do anything for her. I would run, jog, hop, and swim to hell and back for her. There was nothing in this world that could get me to hate my mom, but at the same time I just want to be loved and pampered by my one affection. I wanted to be able to unwind and be let loose into my wildest fantasies and imaginations by someone who understood.
Sadly that’s not how this world works and I just can’t go leaping into my dreams every time I wake up on a Monday morning feeling sorry for myself.
Soon I make it to the school. Just in time for the bell to ring; signaling the start of another school day. Not caring about the ‘no book bag in class’ rule I walked past my locker and made my way over to first period.
I had English Literature first period, and this was, by far, my second favorite class of the day. My first being the art that I had fourth period.
I always loved being able to read and imagine the world the story is in. Or drawing out my most wildest thoughts and feelings. To be able to just cast my innermost self onto a sheet of lined or printer paper. It’s a lot easier this way then talking my feelings out to other people, or to my mom. The embarrassment telling my mom or a therapist that I wanted to be babied.
A small shudder ran up my spine at the thought.
The highest level of embarrassment from something like that would kill me. I’ll just let the graphite explain who I am.
“Hello Mister Anderson, how was your weekend?”
Like everyday, I was greeted at the door by Mrs. McAfee. She was a petite, chocolate skinned lady. She couldn’t be no older than twenty-five. She would always have on this dark rose colored lipstick that would pop out compared to her dark complexion. She also wore her hair in long styled, light brown braids or sometimes even straight hair, but today she must have had the Monday blues because she had her straightened hair in a messy bun atop her head.
“It was fine.” I replied, before heading to sit in my usual desk in the far corner of the room. The one in the back of the class. This seat gave me a great advantage of being mostly hidden by all the louder teens in the room, and it also gave me a great view of Nathan.
He was the only cute boy I’ve seen to walk the halls of Nightingale High. His soft looking, platinum blond hair would stand out as the sun would reflect off of it while class was going. His hair was cut short in the back while the top of his head was full of silvery hair. It looked like he almost had a faded effect going on whenever I looked at it.
the only person in this class that had this certain air around ’em that I just couldn’t seem to figure out. I’ve only known, or seen, this boy around for about a year and a half. Almost going on two since we’re already two months into senior year.
As he turned his head to look bad in my direction, but really towards a brunette a row behind him, I could see the childlike features the boy had. A prominent, semi-button nose, with a rounded face, and light pink sweetheart shaped lips that was turned up into a smile as he carried on with the giggling girl.
His Mocha colored eyes glanced back my way, leaving me to awkwardly pretend like I was just moving my eyes across the class as a whole.
Man he was just too cute. Too hot. He has to be the only person that has this cryptic air around them with the face of a Zac Efron, or a Charlie Puth. And lets not forget about his body. He has the build of a man that could possibly be a street fighter. I couldn’t help but acknowledge his well sculpted muscles, but the cherry on top of the ice cream was that he was smart. Smarter than Egypt, and she was the smartest girl in the class. Have been since ninth grade. Plus he was borderline rich, which always had me wondering who his parents were.
Personally I wasn’t the gold digger type. I never liked the thought of going out with someone because of their wealth, or lifestyle. Family is way more important to me than a couple million dollars. Or the newest brand of a fashion line. I always liked to look at the person in themselves, and how they acted as a human.
And right now I was liking what I was seeing.
In the middle of my thinking, and secret staring session, Mrs. McAfee started to pass around the large class text books; the ones we were currently reading from. We were reading a short Narrative called ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ by Richard Connell. So far It’s about this man named Zaroff that would purposely wrecked ships while they traveled, so that when the men found their way onto his island he would be able to hunt them. Well only after gaining their trust with food and wine, and a few back in the day painkillers to keep them living for long enough. Even though it seemed like a dark tale, actually it was, the ending turned out pretty well. With the way Zaroff got what he deserved. I just felt like it was such a demented story to let children read. Like a human hunting another human like deer…just for the hell of it. Kind of glad that this was all fake.
Of course after we would read the story, Nathan and Egypt would be the main two fighting over who could answer the most questions, but I never really paid attention. I would watch the way his silver hair moved with the light shining through the opened blinds; would always leave my mind as a blank and empty abyss.
Nathan’s hair would shimmer like he just dumped a tub of glitter glue all over his semi straight curls. The way it practically glowed made for one amazing show. Which kept most of my attention.
I really wanted to talk to him, but I knew that I just couldn’t. Despite my appearance I’m more of coward than I am tough. Which was a huge set back since Nathan was kind of a people person.