The Hollow Days

Her eyes were glued to my face as if she couldn't take them away. Like some idiot's tongue to a pole in the middle of the winter. It annoyed me beyond belief and I couldn't wait to get away from her, it's like she was suffocating me with that stupid stare. Trying to figure me out, but I wasn't some fucking brain teaser. I duck away from her and am the first one off the bus as it comes to a stop in front of the school. I couldnt wait to get to my little safe haven. I weave in and out of students, my feet picking up speed as I see the light streaming towards me in this little dark hallway. I break through into the courtyard and gasp for the breath I had been holding. I close the door behind me. No one came out here in the morning, only at lunch.

I crank my music up loud, and lay down on a bench, closing my eyes for a moment. I could feel the dark circles under my eyes. I slept so much that it hurt to be awake. Cyrus and I would come out here and smoke a cigarette or something before school. We were social and had a bunch of friends but the mornings were for the two of us to chill and relax before our day of mayhem. And it was our day. Our day to mess with other people, corrupt constructive learning environments, cause complete and utter chaos. The bell rings all too soon and I gather my things, only removing one bud from my ear and cranking down my music a couple of steps. Music was my drugs to numb the pain. I don't really like being high or enjoy the experience now that he's gone. I trudge to my class, backpack slung over one shoulder.

I watch that girl from the bus wander aimlessly as I walk by her. I could've helped her, but I figure that she's pretty enough for some lacross/football jock to come by and help her to her class. I take in my Chemistry class and put my hood up, keeping my eyes to my hands folded in my lap. I think the teacher only never says anything because I don't cause trouble. He'd rather have a quiet kid who doesn't do work than a loud one that doesn't do work. He's known me for a couple of years, and knows my working habits aren't something to bet on. I watch the blonde walk in and am intrigued as she's introduced to the class. Why is she so damn embarrassed? All she needs to say is a quick greeting and move on. I cringe as I realize where she has to sit. She's already walking towards me, but I don't watch her face. I don't think she watches mine either because she moves her bangs in front of her face in an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks.

I feel her sitting down beside me, but I avert my gaze to my own hands in my lap again and return my other earbud to my ear, turning my music up. As the class moves on, I rest my head in my arms on the table and watch her hands carefully as she fumbled through her assignment. When her hands stop moving I look up at her face. Her brown eyes narrowed at me, and I know she asked me something. I remove a bud. "What?"

She sighs, "I asked if you were going to do any work."

I lick my lips, someting I do when I don't want or don't know how to answer a question. Guess which one of the two. "What's it to you?"

She stares at me, shocked. She lets a rugged breath escape her lips. "Well, I mean," she closes her eyes and murmurs, "never mind, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I close my eyes, trying to get some shut-eye before gym. I used to love gym, but I wish it was a full block instead of half. It feels like even less, though. Cyrus and I always said we'd take it every year. We like to watch the freshman girls, they tried too hard to make guys notice them. But hey, I guess we did notice them. I don't like it as much anymore, because I'm always so tired I actually feel physically weak, but I like to be away from a stupid classroom, get my anger out maybe in sports.

"I'm Emma." My eyes snap open and land right on hers. She bites her lip for a second and then lets it go, and I find myself intrigued and enticed by it. But still annoyed that she interrupted my thoughts. I watch as the color rushes back to where she had just bitten. Her bottom lip was full and plump, fuller than her upper lip and I liked that. But couldn't she take a hint? I didn't want to talk. Especially not to her.

I clear my throat. "Elliot."

"Well what's your problem?"

I stare at her in wonder. She was so blunt, the air about her so bold, but it was masked with this dainty fear, like a rope wrapped around her neck pulling her back, her gut telling her to stay back in the shadows while everyone else took charge. But she was capable. But I actually couldn't fathom the fact that she had the audacity to ask that. "What's yours, sweetheart?" I spit out the word sweetheart in disgust. And I was disgusted. I could barely stand to look at her, a living breathing thing engulfed in the glorious filth of her own ego.

"I asked you first." She whispers, shrinking away from me.

I chortle. "Right now? You." I jab her shoulder with my index finger as the bell rings. I rush away from that class, majorly ticked off. I barrel down into the locker room and remove my clothing. I wasn't totally built, but I wasn't a blob either. I'm lean with good muscle tone, but nothing special. Most guys in here look a lot better than me, which is why I try to change quickly. I feel a sharp jab to my ribs. I grunt in pain and look at Tyler Mosely. He's just some asshole who liked to give me a hard time, even though he used to be Cyrus's friend too. He doesn't know what respect is, that's my assumption.

I let the pain subside and refuse to glare at him, no matter how badly I want to, I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to start something. I mean, with Cyrus we would team up on the little pussy no problem. We weren't afraid of anything, we wanted to take on the world with open arms. But now I knew whatever I started I wouldn't be able to finish. It just wasn't worth it. I don't really like my gym teacher, and he doesn't like me. I used to fuck up his gym so bad. Used to key the floor and peel the paint off the walls, pop basketballs and spill water everywhere for people to slip on. He started leaving me alone more when I stopped, now he just gives me those suspicious looks. Like I'm a bad kid or something.

Not to say I'm a good one. I'm a disaster. But I could be a lot worse. At least I don't bully nerds or something like that. I leave people alone. I could beat the shit out of everyone who bothers me but I choose not to. I do things for the better sometimes. I respect my elders most of the time.

"You going to kick the ball or what?" A girl yells from across the field, crouching in a goal. I blink, not realizing I had even made it outside. I hear a series of snickers behind me and realize that it's my team. My team, not so happy to be in fact, my team. The soccerball was in front of me, and the other team was waiting for me to kick it. I'm supposed to make a goal?

Fuck.

I kick the ball as hard as I can, and it goes flying into the girl's face.

Fuck.