Talk to Me

Mum is mouthing something at me. I don't know exactly what she's saying, my music is turned up to loud. Mum says I'll make myself deaf if I continue listening to my music so loud, but seriously, how else are you meant to listen to Sex Pistols? Mum leans over and pokes me, and the women she has round laughs as I remove my headphones.
"Sophia, Donna here has just moved next door and she has a son around your age, Gerard. She's getting him to come over now, maybe you two could be friends?"
You'd have thought that by now my mum would have realized that I didn't want friends. Still, it must be hard to adjust to the fact that your child is not normal. I give a noncommittal nod, not wanting to offend Donna, at least not straight away. There's a knock at the door, and mum smiles. "That'll be him now." She goes off to get the door.

"So, Sophia, how's school?"

I realize Donna's American. Shit, two Americans in one day? That can't be a coincidence. My suspicions are confirmed when the boy who disrupted my beating earlier walks in. He quickly hides his look of surprise at seeing me, and I am confident my face remained expressionless. I haven't allowed unplanned expressions to appear on my face for the past five years.

"Gerard, this is Sophia, Sophia, Gerard. I'll leave you to talk, me and your mom are going shopping." With that she leaves, leaving me and Gerard staring at each other.

"Well, I know your name now." he says. Ignoring him, I pour myself some apple juice.
"Are you going to fucking talk to me?"
I let my silence answer for him.
"Look, you can pretend you don't give a shit about me, but I know that's a lie. You stopped that guy from attacking me."
"Instinct. I won't be doing it again." I say coldly. Unfortunately, Gerard seems to take this as an invitation to talk to me even more.
"You changed your clothes."
I had changed, as a matter of fact. My outfit was covered in a load of shit from the ground, and there were a couple of marks on my shirt from the dirt on Alex's shoe. I'm not sure how he noticed though, as I was wearing almost exactly the same outfit I had had on before: One of my many black t-shirts, a pair of black skinny jeans and some Dr. Martins. This was pretty much all my wardrobe consisted off - I didn't have much time for clothes. Of course, I had my fancy stuff at the back, but I never touched that.
"Yes, I did. Would you like a medal for figuring that out?"
"No. I was just pointing out a fact."
Has this guy never heard of sarcasm?
"Well that's nice. Now, if you don't mind..." I walk towards the kitchen door, already replacing my headphones, anxious to get back to my room. Gerard grabs my arm and accidentally pulls my sleeve up, revealing the battleground of my arm. No, I don't self harm, but my arms normally bear the brunt of attacks, as I use them to protect my head and neck.
"Fuck..." I hear him mutter. I role my eyes.
"Wow, when I'm beaten up I get bruised. How extraordinary."
I leave the kitchen, and head up to my bedroom. It's empty and neat, with black walls, a black bed, a black duvet and pillow case, a black desk and a black chest of drawers. My mum says it's ridiculously depressing, but I like black. I walk over the the chest of drawers, pulling it open and reaching to the very back. I grasp the bottle of pills hidden there and tip out some of the Nurofen Plus kept in it. These pills are the only things that get me through my life, my dirty little secret.