The Only Way I Know
Named Whatsername.
As I walked down the hallway, I pulled out the timetable from my pocket. My mum had been sent it somehow so I could start school right away.
But I felt like diving into one of those lockers, and not coming out. Ever.
First subject was English. Hopefully this wouldn't be too bad.
I tried to find room eleven, climbing several staircases before I found it.
I opened the door, seeing a young - looking teacher standing up in front of the class. She looked at me expectantly.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her face annoyed from being disrupted.
"Um...I'm n-new," I stammered, feeling myself go bright red. I refused to look at everybody in the class. I knew what they'd be thinking. They'd be judging me by my appearance. How I'm not fantastically beautiful like a model. How I wear eyeliner thick enough to be picked up from a mile away. How I didn't look like everyone else.
The teacher's face smiled, and I felt myself relax.
"Whats your name?"
"Jamie," I replied.
"Ok, Jamie, take a seat." She gestured to the rows of people in front of me.
She began talking again while I found a seat up the back. Perfect. I hated having people sitting behind me. Ever since some fuckface cut off a bit of my hair as a joke in year eight.
I put my bag down beside the desk and sat down. I heard someone move next to me.
I turned, seeing the back of the guy's head as he looked around. His black hair irresistibly reminded me of Billie Joe Armstrong's.
As he turned back to face the front, I could have sworn I recognised him from somewhere.
I must have been making him feel uncomfortable, as he had seen me through the corner of his eye and looked at me.
"What?" he asked indignantly.
"N-nothing," I said, a little too quickly. He was hot...[i[ really hot.
I knew him from the CD shop. The guy who game me 'the look' when he saw I had bought a Green Day CD.
He nodded, his eyes giving me a strange look. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Um...I bought Insomniac yesterday," I said, feeling awkward. I had never been so shy around anyone.
"Ah, right," he said.
"Do you hate Green Day?"
"What!?"
"Do you hate Green Day?" I repeated
"Fuck no," he said shortly. "Fucking awesome, I think."
OK, this was weird. A cute guy, liked Green Day, and wasn't afraid to swear. And his Enlgish accent topped it off.
"Why? Do you?"
"Um...I've met them."
"Are you fucking serious?" he whispered furiously, his eyes wide.
"Thomas, will you be quiet!" the teacher said sternly.
"Sorry," he said, rolling his eyes. She looked at him for a moment before beginning again.
"Thomas?" I asked interestedly.
"Shut up," he said. "It's Tom. Not fucking Thomas. Guess I've got my parents to thank for that."
I nodded awkwardly, at a complete loss of what to say.
"Who are you?" he asked shortly. He sure got to the point.
"Jamie," I said.
"Ah, OK." The bell rang. "Well, see ya later." He got up very quickly and left.
Somehow, I felt as though I had made my first friend.
But he didn't really count.
But I felt like diving into one of those lockers, and not coming out. Ever.
First subject was English. Hopefully this wouldn't be too bad.
I tried to find room eleven, climbing several staircases before I found it.
I opened the door, seeing a young - looking teacher standing up in front of the class. She looked at me expectantly.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her face annoyed from being disrupted.
"Um...I'm n-new," I stammered, feeling myself go bright red. I refused to look at everybody in the class. I knew what they'd be thinking. They'd be judging me by my appearance. How I'm not fantastically beautiful like a model. How I wear eyeliner thick enough to be picked up from a mile away. How I didn't look like everyone else.
The teacher's face smiled, and I felt myself relax.
"Whats your name?"
"Jamie," I replied.
"Ok, Jamie, take a seat." She gestured to the rows of people in front of me.
She began talking again while I found a seat up the back. Perfect. I hated having people sitting behind me. Ever since some fuckface cut off a bit of my hair as a joke in year eight.
I put my bag down beside the desk and sat down. I heard someone move next to me.
I turned, seeing the back of the guy's head as he looked around. His black hair irresistibly reminded me of Billie Joe Armstrong's.
As he turned back to face the front, I could have sworn I recognised him from somewhere.
I must have been making him feel uncomfortable, as he had seen me through the corner of his eye and looked at me.
"What?" he asked indignantly.
"N-nothing," I said, a little too quickly. He was hot...[i[ really hot.
I knew him from the CD shop. The guy who game me 'the look' when he saw I had bought a Green Day CD.
He nodded, his eyes giving me a strange look. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Um...I bought Insomniac yesterday," I said, feeling awkward. I had never been so shy around anyone.
"Ah, right," he said.
"Do you hate Green Day?"
"What!?"
"Do you hate Green Day?" I repeated
"Fuck no," he said shortly. "Fucking awesome, I think."
OK, this was weird. A cute guy, liked Green Day, and wasn't afraid to swear. And his Enlgish accent topped it off.
"Why? Do you?"
"Um...I've met them."
"Are you fucking serious?" he whispered furiously, his eyes wide.
"Thomas, will you be quiet!" the teacher said sternly.
"Sorry," he said, rolling his eyes. She looked at him for a moment before beginning again.
"Thomas?" I asked interestedly.
"Shut up," he said. "It's Tom. Not fucking Thomas. Guess I've got my parents to thank for that."
I nodded awkwardly, at a complete loss of what to say.
"Who are you?" he asked shortly. He sure got to the point.
"Jamie," I said.
"Ah, OK." The bell rang. "Well, see ya later." He got up very quickly and left.
Somehow, I felt as though I had made my first friend.
But he didn't really count.