WARNING: There are multiple sexual assault themes/scenes, homophobic references, strong language, and themes in the book. Please understand that this book could trigger.
Second destination out of four: School. Highschool, to be exact. The place where you're supposed to lose friends. It's not like your stereotypical Highschool movie, I had thought it would be - the highschool jackass would pick on you just fucking 'cause. In reality, people mind their own business---because they just don't give a shit.
"Freshman year. Okay. I can do this." I whispered to myself.
I entered my first block classroom. It was cold and even smelled like the cold -- empty, and somehow nostalgic -- Why are classrooms always cold?
We had assigned seats; in Alphabetical order, of course. I sat in the second to last desk in the second last row closest to the wall. The desks were beige flattops with blue seats attached; very comfortable.
The subject? World History - Easy! The teacher was a big guy with a bowl cut and scruffy beard. He told us to call him, "Mr. B."
The first day is always the same: A small 'About Me' page we do, but they're never remembered or acted upon. Next is guidelines and procedures: fire-drills, lockdowns, etc, etc. Boring, boring, boring. I'd rather skip to the learning part.
I got my wish. We're learning about the Bubonic Plague now. Fun! "Mr. B" would teach us then give us a worksheet and say 'godspeed.'
"You guys can listen to music as you work. Just don't let me hear it." Mr. B said before going to his desk and sitting down.
I pulled out my phone and earbuds. I put the earbuds in my ears and turned on some music. I wasted no time to starting to work. I wrote in pen--blue ink. I love writing with pens. Just makes me seem more mature ya know? I also like them because they don't make the scratch-against-the-paper noise.
Patsy Cline sang Crazy. What can I say? I love old music [and singers]; Queen, Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Bowie, etc. I like how they don't curse a million times just to get a point across.
(That mainly pertains to Bowie, but we're not going to talk about that.)
'What year did the Bubonic Plague start? When did it end?'
'It started in 1347 and ended in 1750. That's 403 years.' I wrote. I am very sarcastic when I answer schoolwork questions.
I finished the worksheet with no problem, but there was a problem. We were done for the day after the worksheet, and there was still an hour of class left! I don't have service down here. I have no problem listening to music and sitting still, it's still kind of boring. But, I've learned to "do" boring, so I'll deal with it.
So I sat. Still. Waiting.
I observed the class. Everyone seemed to already know each other. I'm fine with people as long as they don't speak to me. I actually hate Humans. What's not to hate? They cultivate themselves in places where they have no business. It is very bothersome. And what really gets me going is when someone bounces over to me unannounced and begins talking, then gets offended when I ignore them.
Life Tip: If you ignore it, it will go away.
I'm not looking to make friends, bosom companions, a BFF, someone I can trade bras with, none of that! (Although I'm a guy, so I can't actually trade a bra.) I am simply here to learn. Nothing wrong with that. I've got my priorities straight. Ha!
I sighed quietly. The bell finally rang. I walked out and turned into the C100 hallway, the longest hallway--told to us by Seniors. I was lucky. Three of my classes are within a ten-foot radius of each other, so I didn't have much of a walk. I'll take that last part back. Getting from class to class was hard, the students walked like an undead horde from the Walking Dead! So slow! Some people would cut in front of me to stop and hug or exchange handshakes with their friend on the other side of the hallway. It is so annoying. People, please. Some people actually care about getting to class on time.
I entered the classroom of Earth and Environmental science. I hate science. I always thought it would be about mixing and blowing stuff up. But nope!
We sat in Alphabetical order, again. The teacher was a brunette with a long mane of curls. She had a weirdly round face, wore heels and had a weird name she'd pronounce it one way, but then say it another way not a second later, so it was hard to grasp which pronunciation was the right one.
This class was pretty much the same as first block. Guidelines and procedures. Syllabi. Firedrills, lockdowns, etc etc. Next we were going over binders and stuff--the whole get-everything-in-order process. I like being organized; stable. Chaos into order, all that.
The teacher handed out an 'About Me/What should I know?' sheet. I wrote down the usual.
'I have anxiety. Please don't call on me.'
I wouldn't hold my breath on that. No one ever listens to that.
My third block was Foundations of Math 1. My teacher was an African-American woman with au naturel hair in braids. She was a kind of plump woman with a shrill voice, but she was nice overall and seemed to know what she was doing.
During the middle of this block, we have lunch - D Lunch. I don't really like to eat lunch at school. Or anywhere public. It always seems like all eyes are on me and I can't take the pressure.
I sat at the outside end of a table. I was just minding my own business, looking down at my phone, and not eating (of course).
I heard a groan and then someone's weight hit the chair in front of me, "I don't know what I'm doing!" An Arabic accent cried.
I looked up and saw a girl of golden brown skin and long, thick black hair. She had a sharp bone structure. She was looking right at me. I was just going to ignore her, but she started talking again.
"I got lost on my way here!" She exclaimed.
How? I asked myself. There was a horde of students walking in the same direction.
"This school is so big!" Why is she talking to me? There was no one else nearby, so it was obvious she was talking to me.
"You'll find your way." I told her.
I sighed mentally and held out my hand. "I'm Luc Narson." I said.
She smiled, took my hand and shook it.
"Evie Jensin." She said.
And there you have it; I'm a hypocrite.
So I stuck with Evie, or, she stuck with me. I just walked and she'd follow. Evie had no independence, and that would be the reason our relationship would crumble. I prefer people who can think for themselves.
On the bus, my foot tapped non-stop. It's never happened before, but I keep thinking I'm on the wrong bus. Anxiety at its finest.
More people got on the bus. Some I didn't know; some I did know. Since people from my neighborhood were on the bus, everything was okay.
The bus left the lot. It drove down the street to an intersection and stopped at a red light. Once the light turned green, the bus turned right. I took out my earbuds; we were supposed to turn left.
It continued down the road. I looked behind me at the people from my neighborhood. They had puzzled expressions on their faces. At least I'm not alone in being confused. I looked forward to the driver. She just drove on as if nothing was wrong. How could she know? No one was saying anything. I was too scared to say anything.
We rode in silence until we reached the last stop. I knew where we were, but it sure as hell wasn't where I wanted to be.
The bus driver turned around.
"Why are y'all still on the bus? Which stop are you?" She asked. Apparently none of them.
"We were supposed to go to the Creek neighborhood!" A girl I barely knew blurted out.
"That's not on my route. Y'all are on the wrong bus." The driver said.
There were about eight of us on the bus. I sighed quietly as I was having an anxiety attack. I stayed quiet for the most part.
"I'll have to take you guys back to the school." The driver informed us.
I heard her talking on the radio with the people back at school. She told them about us being on the wrong bus.
We were specifically told 'Slot 3' and that's where I went. This shouldn't have happened.
When we got back to the school, we all got off the bus and stood in the grass. The driver was going on about only having two stops and then being off, so she wouldn't take us.
Now some administrators are running around trying to find our bus and get us home. I am a firm believer of the saying "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." My house is literally the first street to the left right behind the school. It only takes a few minutes to walk there (although it is pretty isolated). So I snuck off.
I walked down the sidewalk. Cars passed. Not many; these roads are kind of empty at this time of day. I was never worried about being grabbed, but I was always prepared. I carried a pen in my fist, ready to stab someone in the eye.
Life Tip: Always keep a pen, pencil, or keys on standby.
Additional Tip: Keep your thumbnails long. You never know when you'll have to gouge out someone's eyes.
Always gotta be ready.
I walked through the heat, across the bridge of a major highway, past the two roundabouts, and down the steep hill. I didn't enjoy the walk, but I didn't hate it either.
I made it home no problem. The first day is always easy. No homework; the only upside of the first day.
I went upstairs to my room and shut the door behind me. I changed into athletic shorts and a beat up t-shirt, and stayed in my room for the rest of the day.