Electrifying

“And that kids, is why we need biodiversity! Without it we don’t get to have waffles and bacon because we’d only have milk!” There was something frustratingly off about the biology teacher. He seemed far too calm, as though nothing could surprise him. With eyes that evaluated and calculated all of his surroundings, making certain that he could pacify any threats instantly, it became obvious that the man lacked the innocence of a normal civilian. I’d known that the kind of paranoia that seemed to haunt the man was something that comes with a trust impairment that could only be acquired through an excessive exposure to the harsh realities of life. The man’s dull blue eyes searched through the rows of students, lingering ever so slightly on me, alertness flashing through his stormy orbs, before returning to their normal composure. His smile returned, although his eyes did not mirror his facial expression. His somewhat angular features were framed by a beard that consisted of dense short stubble and his dirty blonde hair was in an almost presentable form, obviously tended to in his car or faculty restroom before class as a traditional last minute after thought.

He seemed pleased that his lecture finished exactly twenty two seconds before the bell was due to ring, as though it was his own schedule. Once the bell rang he gave the class a dismissive nod that seemed rehearsed as he watched the kids file eagerly out of door. As I stood up, gathering my belongings in my hand before shoving them messily in my tattered and re-purposed saddle bag, I felt a set of eyes watching me. Attentively, I continued to focus on the buckle that held my bag shut, before lazily walking out of the classroom, purposefully keeping my frame loose as though I hadn’t noticed that the teacher was evaluating me for potential harm and taking his dear time with it. I would be sure to ask Aaron to do a check on the man. He was decently young looking too, so it made no sense that he would be so calculative.

As I stepped out of the room, I could hear the deep thuds that shadowed my footsteps, my heavy leather boots echoing across the seemingly silent halls. I looked up to see that once again the students had come to attention facing the way that I was walking from. I rolled my eyes and quicken my pace to try to avoid the conflict. It was only my second day and it frustrated me to no end that the other two already had potential candidates for recruiting whilst I was caught in the cross fires of teen war. Within hours the little dispute turned into designated gangs where students decided to pick a team between myself and the doppelganger-Rage. I had a large group of “mortal enemies” and a noticeably smaller group of cult followers whom to me were much more tedious. My gang felt the need to constantly acknowledge my existence although it was evident that I wanted to bask in loneliness.

“Hey, New chick!” The urge to throw my hands out and curse every god to ever exist crossed my mind as I ignored the voice attempting to gain my attention. I too larger steps, looking down to the linoleum floors watching as the scuffed leather boot struck out, followed instantly by the matching pair. A run had formed on my tights, the ladder spiralling upwards with every step, like a snake crawling up my skin. I pushed back a lock of my freshly died aqua hair, an instant renewal of frustration washing through me as I thought of the difficulty it would take to return my hair to its natural colour. I roughly tugged down at the collar of my over sized Iron Maiden shirt before hastily taking a left turn into a hallway that I had never walked in before. I shrugged and continued to walk towards the set of stairs that were situated at the end of the hallway.

“It’s rude to ignore people, you know?” The arrogance in his voice made it extremely difficult to refrain from hitting him over the head with his own severed leg. I’m sure at that point he would discover the true meaning of rude: a thought which I voiced to him, eyes begrudgingly looking up to see him smirking at me.

“Feisty as always I see.” It was as though he enjoyed getting me riled up to the point of aggression.

“Do not talk to me like you know me.” I hissed out. It was true, neither of us knew the other’s name and it had become obvious, at least on my behalf, that we did not want to associate with each other. It aggravated me to new extents that he continued to call me new girl, I did have a name. The name wasn’t my real one, but it was indeed the name that was my own for the mean time. I did not say his name, but at least I had the decency to refrain from calling him anything else. He was truly and insolent young man and it made me want to smack him repeatedly.

“But Nirvana, I do know you. Much better than you know me.” I scowled at him as I climbed the stairs at a leisurely pace hoping that he would get annoyed and walk faster, but to avail he kept to my pace, smiling down at me like a Cheshire cat on morphine.

“Don’t ask me what I think of you. I might not give you the answer you want me to.” It was an instinctive response filled with a condescending wit.

“And she throws Fleetwood Mac quotes around quite casually. If you weren’t so foul, I’d be in love.” He returned almost instantly, a wit about him that wasn’t present last encounter. It seemed that he had overcome the shock that had frozen his brain cells during our first rendezvous.

“Screw off.”

“You don’t even know my name, do you?” He asked incredulously, as though the thought of me not being infatuated with every detail of his life was shocking and unheard of. I shrugged not gracing him with a response as I pushed the door open at the top of the staircase to be greeted by a small greenhouse on the top of the school building. I had scoped out the school the night before my first day and it appeared that I had completely disregarded this entire level, which was in fact the roof level as the door to the rest of the roof was padlocked, not allowing students to exceed to confines of the green house. In front of the door was a bench, I trotted towards it, shrugging my bag of my shoulder and dropping it at the foot of the bench. I wasn’t surprised to see him still standing a few metres away from me, hesitantly eyeing me, but I was mildly irritated by the fact.

“So while I went through the draining process of trying to find your name, you were not at all curious?” He looked genuinely confused and a small smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. It was a sarcastic one, but it was a smile none the less.

“Most people wait for a polite introduction.” There was sarcasm lacing my voice but it held none of the previous aggression that my remarks held.

“You make me sound like a creep.” In return his answer was teasing. It seemed that we were no longer as openly hostile towards each other as we previously were and there was no logical reasoning behind the change. He pushed a hand through his thick locks of hair that were apparently a dark brown, not black as I had previously thought; another difference between him and Rage.

“For all I know, you could indeed be a creep.” All that was lacking from that statement was for me to dart my tongue out as a childish insult. Shockingly enough, we’d both become somewhat playful. I should probably get a check up. I could see Beverly now, she would be furious that I had let down my facade. None of the other two were forced to put on a persona, just me. They claimed that I was far too anti-social and that I needed to at least be “cool” about hating all the humans I came in contact with. Well suck on that, I’m obviously not as evil as they assumed I was.

He laughed. It was deep and sensual and it fit him perfectly. His laugh was familiar and foreign at the same time. It was a lot like Rage’s but his laughs were so uncommon that when he did laugh it was almost baffling. This laugh however, seemed calm and casual, completely effortless and genuine.

“Zach. I’m Zach.” He approached me and held his hand out, smirking down at me a challenge clear in his face. I rolled my eyes and clasped his hand with my own.

“You already know my name, creep.” I smirked back at him before removing my hand from his as he started to laugh again.

The door to the staircase flew open and the fuzzy haired girl I’d met yesterday came into view. Her hands were clasping a tray filled with food and drink as her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Zach...” Her sentence trailed off as her eyes fell on me, her smile slowly turning down into a thin line as she looked from me to Zach expectantly.

“Spencer, this is Nirvana. She might possibly be having lunch with us.” Both sets of eyes looked to me for confirmation as I sat there awkwardly looking between the two. I composed myself before shrugging and standing up to grab my bag from its place before lowering myself to the ground on the plastic grass that was in front of the rustic bench. I crossed my legs over each other and placed my bag next to me. It appeared as though I was imposing on tradition and the bench was just big enough to fit myself and Zach, I for some reason, felt obliged to forfeit my place to the scrawny girl.

“How’ve you been, squirt?” I asked casually as I started to search through my bag for the apple that I had hastily thrown in there. I could hear a hesitant set of footsteps dragging across the fake grass floor as the girl approached.

“Good...” Her answer was the epitome of awkward.

“I’m not here to set your hair on fire, would you relax?” My response was almost snappy as she lowered herself onto the bench, handing the tray over to Zach. I looked up to see and amused smile gracing her features as she returned my gaze steadily.

“My hair is the least of my worries.” I nodded acceptingly as I returned to searching through my bag. I finally found the apple in one of the many inner compartments. I happily grabbed it and wiped it across my ripped denim shorts, not caring at all about my appearance, although the apple would do no harm to my clothing.

“So how do you two know each other?” I looked up to see Zach directing his questioning eyes to Spencer who looked alarmed by the question. I assumed that the truth was not an option in her thought process of how to answer the question.

“She sent dead flowers to my wedding.”

Zach scowled at my response. “Bite me, Jagger.” He dead panned.