Senior year. What a fucking joke.
I mean, really, come on! Junior year for me was absolute hell. Homework everywhere, messy grades and evil teachers. Not to even mention the kids fucking each other like rabbits. And now you’re telling me for strange reason that senior year is better?
No fuckin way.
Everything in life is made of scales, they say. Balance. That’s all it really takes. Making sure to even everything out. Don’t be spread too thin. Keep things organized. Enjoy the good moments, and keep the bad ones in stride. But I’ll tell you one thing for certain that I’ve learned in my life. My balancing scale sure as hell is not balanced.
Age negative six months. Father left my mother after finding out she was pregnant three months along. Dumped her to bear the child on her own. Or at least that’s the story she tells me. Age one, made it a year I suppose. Mother got in a car crash. Paralyzed from the hips down. Age four, Mom took on drugs to cope with her new impairments. She wasn’t the same since she started. Age eight. Started getting bullied in school. That’s when my grades started dropping too. Age twelve. Mom diagnosed with cancer. Age fourteen. Took on a job to help pay the medical bills. Turned out she wasn’t using the money for medical bills, and instead used it for her own will to buy more crack or whatever.
That brings me to where I am now. Age seventeen. Mother died of cancer, or maybe a drug overdose. I’m not sure. I’ve been living in her apartment and paying its rent for the last eight months. No one knows about her. Or me.
My name is Opal Archer. My hair is a dark black in color, and my eyes a light grey. I’m your generic white girl. I’m entering my Senior Year. Oh, and I’m invisible as hell.
Not that I really care of course. Okay, maybe a little a bit. But I can’t really help and wonder why when I walk through the halls, I see everyone patting their friends on the back or doing weird ass hand shakes. And the only person who happens to greet me is-
Joseph Riles. The gayest man I have ever met.
Having made it to my locker lost in my thoughts, he had appeared when I was punching in my combination. The old rusty locker gave a satisfying click before swinging open. I began to shove my contents inside it with little regard as to where they ended up.
Man, I love him to pieces. He’s the only person who really has talked to me. Gave me his ice cream cone at age six after I had dropped mine. We had shared it, and practically everything else since then.
“Need some gloss, babe?” He held out a tube for me that I simply chuckled at. “No, Joseph. I’m good.” He shoved it away in his bag after having applied some to his lips and given them a smack. Joseph linked his arm through my own and closed my locker door for me.
“Opal, babe. We’re in our senior year. You should be excited! Come on, smile!” Joseph was always telling me to smile. In an attempt to, I alwardly smirked, at which he rolled his eyes heavily and drug me towards our first class. We had hour one together. He’d compared our schedules the second they came out, as he usually did, and then squealed like a five year old through a phone call when we had periods four and six together as well.
I tripped slightly as he drug me into the classroom. He released my arm and skipped over to a seat next to a guy he’d been crushing on for years. I’ve told him he should go for it, but he still does nothing. Except sit next to him and stare intently. For Christ’s sake, we don’t even know if he’s gay. So who the hell knows.
Left alone at the entrance, I watched him chat with another friend of his behind his spot. I bit my lip for a moment before walking towards an empty desk. After having seated myself down into the overused and worn out chair, I began to pull out my things. The usual pen and pencil. Some paper. Nothing new.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when there was a gasp from the classroom. Let me guess, the quarterback just walked in wearing a speedo showing off his barely average dick that they consider big?
Yeah, that’s definitely not the quarter back.
Whoever the hell had just walked in the room was the hottest guy I had ever seen. His was god damn perfection. He was tall, with broad shoulders and deep brown eyes. The guys hair was a bright red ginger. It complimented him perfectly. And let me put it this way, only special people can pull off the ginger hair color. His clothing clung neatly to every well rounded muscle. Even his ass. Why the fuck am I staring at his ass again?
The classroom had gone oddly silent as he stood there. Practically everyone was staring at him, me included. I mean, who the hell wouldn’t be? When the kid is that hot and walks into a disgusting classroom like a god damn model, everyone’s gonna stare.
His brown eyes seemed to scan the room for a moment before settling on me. He inhaled deeply, eyes still locked with mine, before he walked forwards. Towards my desk.
Hell. No. This bitch is not gonna sit here. Go sit with some petty ass Starbucks girl who’s sipping her almond milk reduced fat and sugar home made latte or some shit. Not me, for crying out loud.
If you haven’t met me, this is something you need to know. I don’t like people.
What? You could already tell? Am I that easy to read? God damn it.
“May I sit here?” Having been lost it yet another McDonald’s McFlurry of thoughts, I glanced up at the hot ass hunk- I mean. The. Boy. Who stood before me. His voice was deep and rich. Everyone’s eyes were on me, the normally invisible one, as he simply sat down beside me without another word.
Having gotten my wits about me, I turned to face him in my seat. “I didn’t say you could sit down.” I spoke in a snappy tone. He had to know that I meant business. No way in hell was I letting some new kid push me around.
He raised his eyebrows in response. “Is that so?” So this bitch wants to die. You had your way out honey, but no. You choose death instead? Why the hell do people do this. “Yes, it is. I’m saving this spot.” Perfect. A short and snappy response. That’ll detour him.
“For your imaginary friend?” The class let out a solid laugh like the fifth graders they are. He smirked at me as I sat there, mouth agape slightly.
So he really does wanna die.
“Until you can prove your drill is as big as your mouth, I recommend keeping it zipped.” I grabbed the nearest girls bag and rummaged through it quickly before tossing him a condom. Size small. There was a bout of laughter that followed my words.
The edge of his smirk twitched. I’d gotten to him a bit. He seemed to have backed down, that was until I made eye contact with him. Either I hadn’t noticed it before, or there were flecks of gold in his eyes. They seemed to be swirling like some vortex calling to me. I was definitely seeing things. My own grey eyes narrowed as I leaned forwards slightly, oddly intrigued by it. He glanced away quickly. Moments later the teacher walked in.
The only thing I was left to think now, was what the fuck.