Are You Scared Yet?

I walked into the school, tugging my coat closer to myself, to try and get some warmth into me. Never has it been so cold outside, and cold weather was something I never liked. I shivered, hopping up and down on the balls of my feet at my locker, the school’s heat slowly affecting me, seemingly taking its own sweet time.

I bit my lower lip as I put my books away, grabbing my History before going to homeroom, sitting down in the back like usual. The whole ten feet walk there was maddening, talk of a new guy, one that was apparently gorgeous and one that everyone wanted. I scoffed, like any one person could be that special to have the whole school in an uproar. He had to be some sort of cocky jock, how else would he capture the attention of practically everyone?

Doodling randomly in one of my notebooks, I paid no attention to the class as they chatted and gossiped away about the new guy at the clocked ticked away, seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into an eternity of waiting for that single bell so I could live my life, going onto the next class in this hellhole.

I only looked up when I heard my name. A boy with light brown hair, his eyes almost the same color, was walking toward her. Truthfully, he looked like a poster boy for ‘Khaki Today”. I found nothing special in this boy who seemed to already capture the hearts of my fellow students. He looked like another person that would be dragged into the popular group and torture the loner kids like myself. I frowned, going back to doodling the lines of nothingness on the paper.

“Marie Kingsmen, right?” I heard him ask, carrying himself like he was royalty, though that was an incongruous thought to possess. I nodded my head slightly, other than that, keeping to myself. Human communication was for those who thought they would make it in today’s society. I knew well I wasn’t, it wasn’t like I needed to talk to people unless it was necessary, like it would become in my future job of journalism. I had time though, a long time, so why bother communicating to people that wouldn’t listen. “Would you mind showing me to the History room?” He asked. Who did this guy really think he was? The Queen of England? Of course, that was another incongruous thing to be thinking of.

“Find it yourself, just like every other new kid would have to. You’re nothing special, so stop carrying yourself like you are.” I said, my face straight as the bell rang. I picked up my things and walked out of the classroom. It may have been rude and a bit harsh to say, but I wasn’t going to treat someone who wasn’t special at all like they were. That was plain wrong.

I frowned, sitting down in my history seat, thinking of how absurd it was to have the same class as this boy. I pulled my copy of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland out and flipped open to where I was, the mad tea party. I’ve read this book time and time over, but that’ll never change how much I love the book, Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, Dormouse, March Hare and all.

Mr. Olivers was talking about the American Revolution as I tried to bite back a groan, I hated history with a passion. I found no use to it, who would really need to know how cruel America was in the first place? We all know it now and it’s not like not going to hell or being owned by China, either would work.

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir, I couldn’t find my way around.” I smiled simply, feeling like an evil mastermind. Being late for class in Mr. Olivers' class was a major no-no, he took his job way too seriously, almost like the librarian.

“Who are you?” Mr. Olivers snapped, clearly not happy that he had been interrupted in his ‘American Revolution’ lecture.

“Brendan Lexington, Sir.”

“Sit down, and don’t make it a habit, Mr. Lexington.”

I frowned, no detention? No lecture? Nothing more than just a sit down? That was unfair. Either this boy was magic, or had serious connections higher up, the latter was the ideal one between the two, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

He carried himself the way he had before – like he was God – as he made his way to the seat beside mine. Did life really hate me so much as to torture me to this extent? I let out a frustrated sigh before continuing my notes on the subject.