I'll Make You Feel Beautiful Once Again

A couple minutes later, Mr.Williams came to unlock our door and telling us it was time to meet the others. Kellin yawned, and got up from his seat on my bed. He stretched out his back, and a loud popping came after. “Old man,” I teased.

“Straight,” he murmured with a smile, offering me his hand to help me up. I took it willingly, trying to ignore the warmth and the way his dainty fingers caressed mine. As we walked down the corridors with the others, Mr.Williams rambled on and on and on about the homeschoolers. “Now, ya’ll needta treat these kids with respect, you hear?”

He got a few mumbled responses, but really we all just tried to block him out the best we could. “I will definitely treat them with respect, Mr.Williams,” Jesse told him rather loudly, making sure all us heard every word.

“That’s good to hear, Jesse,” Mr.Williams smirked with sarcasm, obviously just feeding him lies, but hell, the kid needed a lot of attention. The old man led us down a hallway with its walls painted. The drawings consisted of the most random and bizarre shit ever. Snakes, flowers, American flags, even scenes and quotes from the stupid movie Titanic that came out last year. Why everyone is so obsessed with it, I still have no clue. However, I was glad to see that not all of the walls in this facility were fucking white.

We approached the last door of the hallway, and the geezer had to swipe his I.D. over a little reader for the door to open. After the monotone ringer buzzed, Mr.Williams stepped aside and allowed us to go in first. It was a small room with one wall that was covered in big, glass windows that looked out to playground. Same as the dorm-rooms, the walls were white and I swear, if I saw another white wall, I was going to throw myself at it so my blood and brain shit could make some sort of color to the blank building.

Fuck, I’m crazy…

In the middle of the room, there was a circle of chairs. 15 chairs to be exact. Four of them were already occupied, by the homeschoolers of course. I sat next to Kellin with Mike on my other side. Mike sat with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed. If I’m not mistaken, my younger brother seemed to be pissed off 24/7…

“Okay, just to get us started,” the old man wheezed, obviously in a bad mood as he grumbled to us and shuffled the papers in his hands repeatedly. “Let’s go around the circle and say your names or some shit.”

I spaced out every time someone I already knew said their name, only tuning in when someone new came along. “I’m Beau,” a guy with long brown hair and broad shoulders mumbled. Beau kept on scratching at his wrists, and then his hands would reach up to his ears where he would cover them, as if he didn’t want to hear anything that anyone was saying. He would also rub his eyes over and over again, like he was trying to shake away the sleep.

Matty was next, and he had red, fiery hair that fell around his face lazily. Wide-rimmed glasses that looked far too big for his face were propped on his nose. “I-I-I-I’mmmm…” he struggled. “I’m M-M-M-M-M-ah-aha-ah-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, would you spit it out?!” Mike suddenly shouted, snapping and staring at Matty like he just shot his dog or something.

“Man, leave him the fuck alone, he’s trying,” Beau defended.

“Watch your fucking language,” Mr.Williams interrupted them both. Beau and Mike shot the old man looks of disbelief before scoffing and slouching back into their seats. “Go on Matty.”

“I-I-I…” Matty started again, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he stumbled over his words. I kinda felt bad for the kid, I mean, why should he have to make a fool of himself in front of a bunch of insane, pissed off guys? “M-M-M… Matty,” he finally spit, smiling in relief and rubbing his forehead with his shaking hand.

The guy next to Matty shifted uncomfortably when he realized it was his turn to introduce himself. “I’m… Gerard,” he mumbled. His cheeks were slightly chubby, and he had long, greasy black hair that fell in thin strands on his shoulders. He wore thick eyeliner that was smeared on the bottom and his skin was ghostly pale. His eyes were wide, and they darted over every inch of the room, as if searching for a single piece of dust. Now, he was probably the only one that looked insane. The rest of us hid it behind our sad faces.

“I’m Oliver,” the guy who was sitting next to Gerard told us with a thick British accent and a smug grin on his short face. He had fair hair that fell close to his cheekbones. His eyes were big and curious, and shit, his arms were practically covered in scars, ones that, like mine, varied in size and color. That was the first thing about Oliver that surprised me. He wasn’t afraid to show his faults. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about if I would have done that. Fortunately, I packed all long sleeves. The next thing that Oliver did to surprise me was that he sat up in his chair, his butt on the edge and his skinny legs hanging over. He smirked at all of before saying calmly, “Fuck you… fuck you… fuck you… fuck you…” With every curse, he pointed at each of us personally. Mike’s nostrils flared when Oliver reached him and I just simply smirked at him. Unamused. He was just trying to show off... or give us a horrible, pissy first impression.

“Oli,” Mr.Williams cut him off, sounding quite tired and exasperated. “I’m not havin’ it this year.”

“Rubbish,” Oliver smiled at the old man. “You know you can’t stay completely brassed off at me.” Mr.Williams smirked at Oliver, shuffling his papers once more and nodding his head thoughtfully. “Bloody hell, you are just the same as you were last year,” Oliver laughed.

“Okay, enough small talk,” Mr.Williams chuckled. “Let’s talk about our week and how it went.”

Time to zone out again…

Notes:
Straight (1990s slang for “That’s right”)
Brassed off (British slang for “Pissed off”)