Steam Punk Goggles and Ink Stained Hands

DREW’S POV

~

I woke up the next morning feeling less confident than I had hoped. All the confidence I gained from prep talking myself in my head last night fled my mind and left me with a cold feeling of self-doubt and anxiety.
I’m not changing my mind now though.

I pushed my duvet off my body and slid out of bed rather ungracefully – my feet hitting the floor with a small thump. Stretching as I walked, I made my way to the bathroom; passing my mother as I went.

“Morning, honey” she greeted me.

“Morning, Mum” I replied and made my way into the room at the end of the brightly lit hallway. The artificial light always hurts my eyes in the morning but thankfully I adjusted to it before I reached the bathroom – the lights in there are even brighter.

I pushed the door open and winced slightly as my feet came into contact with the cold tile. First order of business was a shower. I turned the dial and waited for the water to heat to a warm enough temperature; cold showers are absolutely horrible, no exceptions. I stepped under the spray and started to wash my hair, hoping that the drumming of the water on the shower floor would distract me from the day ahead.

Mornings are never a good time for me. If I had the choice, I would just stay in my bed all day in a dream world and never have to get up for things like school, cold runs down to the end of the road to pick up bread and milk from the tiny supermarket for my mother and wouldn’t have to face the emotional, self-questioning shit that I’m feeling because of Barrone. Cowardly? Maybe a little, but today I’m going to do something about it.

Now feeling warm under the water I started to sing; I sing a lot in the shower, I find it relaxing.

“Remember when there was nothing else to do, but lie and bed and,
wonder how it was always up to you, and no one else and,
Early mornings, made by warnings, what's the point of the alarm that I'm ignoring?
It's either raining, I'm not complaining, but waking up is hard to do so,

Turn my head its back to bed with no delay, can't be bothered by the phone ten times a day,
Why get up my morning doesn't even start till two?
Forget reality waking up is hard to do.

Remember when we would hang out every day, and we would rather,
Not be told what to do or what to say, Cause nothing mattered.
Never boring with slept in mornings, not ashamed of bad habits that I'm forming.
It’s not important if days are shortened, I can't make time when nothings new,
Cause waking up is hard to do so,

Turn my head its back to bed with no delay, can't be bothered by the phone ten times a day,
Why get up my morning doesn't even start till two?
Forget reality waking up is hard to do.

What's a day when it all ends up the same, and lasts forever?
Can't complain when there's nothing there to blame, and things can't be better.
Summer evenings, teenage grievings, got no problem with the life that I've been leading.
No concentration on hesitation, I can't make time when nothings new, Cause waking up is hard to do so!

Turn my head its back to bed with no delay, can't be bothered by the phone ten times a day,
Why get up my morning doesn't even start till two?
Forget reality waking up is hard to do!”

While I sang I shampooed and conditioned my hair and washed my body. Once I decided I was suitably clean and was just procrastinating I turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy bathroom.

I really should open a window when I shower, it’s like a sauna in here…

After I dried of, I brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and dried it with a towel before heading back into my room to get dressed. My wardrobe is a mess but it’s an organized mess. I know where all my jeans and things are but if my mum or someone went to find something in here it would resemble a massive pile of washing rolled into a ball and shoved into a confined space. I dug out my black skinny jeans which I can just about pass off as tight school trousers, my white shirt and tie and pulled them on, not really caring if they got a little creased in the process.

With a quick goodbye to my parents, I made my way out the door and set off in the direction of my school.

Well, this should be an interesting day…

*****

The Panda is sitting on me.

I repeat. The Panda is sitting on me.

Allow me to explain. I was walking into school, nice and casually as you do when suddenly I’m knocked to the ground. When I look up, all I see is Laurence on top of me - wearing jeans similar to mine and a black hoodie over his shirt - grinning down at me like a madman.

“Are you quite alright there, Laurence?” I asked, laughing.

“Yup, never been comfier. Have you considered a career in human sofas?” he questioned, mocking our careers councillor in a serious voice.

“Shift it, Bevers. You're squishing Wooly!” Kier exclaimed as he made his way over to us, laughing at the way Laurence was so casually lounging on me while I’m getting squished against cold ground.
Kier reached his hands out and grabbed Laurence’s, pulling him up and allowing me to breathe once again.

“Why is it that whenever I come over you’re all doing something weird?” Luke asked, signalling his arrival.

“We’re weird people Pilnahn, surely you’ve realised this by now?” I smirked at him.

“Yes, unfortunately I have. I think you’ve infected me with your weirdness”

“Yes, it is very contagious” Kier agreed.

Since all our lesson schedules are slightly different this may be the only time today where I get to see all of them together. Now is the perfect chance to find out if any of them know Barrone.

“Hey guys, do any of you happen to know a guy called Shane Sumner, he also goes by the name Barrone?” I asked interrupting their little infectious weirdness debate.

They all stopped there discussion and thought for a minute.

“…No, name doesn’t ring any bells, sorry. What does he look like?” Luke asked.

“He’s got like long, sandy brown hair and he’s sort of short but still taller than me” I described. I could have gone on about the shape of his jaw or how cute his nose is but I don’t want to seem like a creep in front of my friends. They all know I’m gay and are perfectly okay with it but they’ll start asking all about him and when the question comes to how I know him I can’t just say “Oh yeah, I had one class with him but we barely talked and then I saw him in detention, but that’s all” can I?

All of the guys shook their heads when no one sprang to mind.

“Sorry, no clue mate” Kier said apologetically.

“Okay, don’t worry about it”. Time for plan B. Detention. If I have to keep resorting to this I’m going to get in so much trouble. Hopefully after today I won’t have to.

*****
Well that was a pleasant experience.

Not.

I decided during a rather dragging maths lesson that if I was going to get detention I may as well get it doing something worthwhile; and by worthwhile I mean by doing something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but never had the guts to.

Mr Starling was never one of my favourite teachers, in fact he ranked highly among my least favourite. This just happened to be why I chose him to execute my detention plan on. It wasn't anything too bad or "rebel" I just told him to fuck off when he started grilling me on the presentation of my work. Still, it was sufficient for me to get detention.

So there I was; once again making my way to the theatre where the daily detentions were held and where West Suffolk High's most troublesome students spent their lives during 3:05-4:05. And Barrone apparently.

I pushed open one side of the double doors and was greeted with a glaring Ms Thomas - the witch from the RE department.

Oh joy...

"Woolnough? I wouldn't expect to see you here. Apparently you're as bad as the rest of them. Sit down and be quiet" she barked.

While she was having her little rant my eyes were focused on the purpose of me being here. He didn't look up despite her loud voice echoing in the reasonably quite room. I walked up the steps and along to the row where Barrone was sitting last time. His seating seems to follow a pattern, always sit as far back as possible and away from everyone else if you can. It’d like to use the word predictable but Barrone seems anything but.

I slid into the row and sat down next to him with my bag on my lap, even then he didn’t look up. Feeling slightly impatient I did the clichéd fake cough. This worked as it should though and he glanced up, his eyes widening almost comically when he noticed it was me sitting there. He looked just like he did last time I saw him, except this time he had a pair of steam-punk style goggles around his neck with the strap tucked under his shirt collar. Bit of a weird fashion choice but each to their own I guess. Plus they’re sort of cute.

“Hey” I started, sounding neither bitter nor happy, just somewhere in-between. Uninterested would be an accurate description.

“Um… H-hey, D-Drew… what are y-you doing here?” he stuttered, avoiding my eyes and shifting nervously in his seat.

“I got detention” I shrugged as casually as I could.

“O-oh”

“Barrone…” I sighed and got comfy in my seat, “I’ve got questions. In no particular order, what happened in art, you just randomly decided to knock paint up the floor, what was that? Secondly, why did you switch classes? You spent one lesson in my company and then moved without saying a word. Also, I thought we had actually become some sort of friends in detention last time. Then I see you in the hallways and stuff and you ignore me? You just always seem so tense and nervous around me. Did I do something wrong? Just… what’s going on Barrone?”

When I’d finished I noticed he was now looking up at me, actually looking me in the eyes for once. We just sat there looking at each other for a minute. Then he opened his mouth and started to talk.