Knives and Pens

I drag my ass out of bed with a loud groan and a sincere wish for some kind of natural disaster to take place that would get me out of going to school. I throw on my jeans, the cleanest top I can find in the chaos of my bedroom floor and my black hoody, which hides my chubby frame from the judging eyes of my so called peers. I spray myself with deodorant, knowing there isn’t much else I can do to cover up the fact that I didn’t have time to shower. I try not to choke on it while I search for my car keys, heaven knows where I put them. I find them on the ground next to a discarded pair of jeans, beside the now empty bottle of Jack Daniels I stole two weeks ago. Most kids would be concerned that their parents would find the bottle in such an obvious place, but I know my parents will never step foot in my room. It’s messy, chaotic and it smells like a teenage boy’s room, so they keep clear of it and I keep my dirty secret. I hear Mikey yell from upstairs, so I grab my bag and finally leave my sanctuary.

I reach the kitchen to find Mikey is already prepared with coffee and a pop tart. We don’t utter a syllable to each other, and I quickly scoff the diabetesinducing breakfast and lead the way to my beat up car. Having a dad who’s a mechanic came in handy for my sixteenth birthday, and the day he handed me the keys is still one of my fondest memories to date. I remember how sunny the day was, how my parents were actually nice to each other that day instead of being at each other’s throats like usual. Mother had made my favourite dinner and went out of her way to make my favourite cake from scratch, with Mikey’s help. My grandmother had still been alive, and like every year she came over for dinner with a card and a hug, telling me how proud she was of me and how I would make something of myself one day. She had taken care of Mikey and I ever since I could remember, and she had been a source of stability and much needed encouragement over the years. Everything I know, I learned from her. She had been the perfect parental figure, and her loss remained a void in my life. The car is a reminder of the last happy day I had with her, and even though it’s a beat up piece of shit, it signifies the last good day I had in this shitty life. I treat the car like it’s my pride and joy, and I refuse to let anybody else drive it. Mikey will never get his hands on the wheel as long as I live, no matter how he whines about it. If he crashed it, I think I may actually kill him. The kid can barely use a toaster without electrocuting himself; I dread to think how he’ll manage in the driver seat.

I start the car, pop tart still in my mouth, and my travel mug securely placed on my lap. I really want a fucking cigarette right now, but I don’t have enough time for one. My hands are shaking from my lack of caffeine and the sugar overdose from the pop tart I’m still digesting. The lack of nicotine probably isn’t helping either, but there’s not too much I can do about it, unless I want another tardy slip for myself and Mikey. The death glare I’d get all day from him wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Plus, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to sneak outside at some stage before lunch for a quick hit of the cancer stick carefully concealed in the pocket of my hoody. Smoking is strictly forbidden on school grounds, but I’ve never been caught, so I figure there’s no harm in breaking the rule every once in a while (which happens to be every day at lunch). I found the perfect spot for myself, Bryar and Toro to sneak off to every day, away from the rest of the student population and the teaching faculty. My hands won’t stop shaking while I pull out of the drive way and drive out of the street. Mikey is too busy fiddling with the cassette player to notice, which saves me from listening to some wise ass remark from his smart mouth. He’s my brother, and I love him to bits, but sometimes all I want to do is punch him in the face when he has to make a comment on absolutely fucking everything I do or say. He can’t fucking help himself, and the grin on his face when he knows he’s hit a nerve is the worst part of it. We’re chalk and cheese in some ways, but especially when it comes to temperament. He can take everything in his stride and he moves on quickly. He doesn’t let anything bother him for more than five minutes, and if it does, he will do something to change it. Unlike me, who keeps my mouth shut, and drowns my anger and disappointment in alcohol and drawing. I let everything get under my skin, where it festers and multiplies until I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I envy Mikey for it, and in that aspect I wish I was more like him. Scratch that, I wish I was more like him in every fucking aspect. He’s doted on by my mom and dad when they’re paying attention to us. He’s straight and able to express his sexuality without fear of our parent’s reaction. He’s far more socially apt than I am, he doesn’t shrink away into the background like I do. Sure, he gets bullied a little, and he has a little anxiety in front of large crowds, but overall he’s able to function in school, and he made a friend weeks into freshman year. He picked a good friend too; some short shit called Frank. He’s a cool kid with a good taste in music, and he has our love of horror movies. The two of them hang around with me, Bryar and Toro pretty much all the time, making us a small, but tighter-than-tight, group. The only thing right in my life right now is my friends, who make sure I don’t become a complete isolated hermit. There are times I try to slip away even from them, but they always pull me back and remind me that they won’t let me go anywhere, especially not when I’m the only one who has a car.

“Dude, fucking step on it. I swear, if I get another tardy, I’m gonna shred your batman comics.”

“I dare you. See how long it’ll take you to get back inside this car. If you’re that fucking worried about making it into school on time, why don’t you make your way in, instead of annoying my ass over it? You’ve got two fucking legs, use them, instead of bitchin’ at me.”

“Fuck you, asswipe” he mutters spitefully, glaring at me already.

I don’t give him a response, not a verbal one, anyway. I flip him the bird, while keeping my eyes on the road, preferring to make it to school alive. I do start to drive a little faster, though, but just enough to get to the hell hole on time. The rest of the car journey is pretty silent, not counting the Danzig song pumping through the speakers. I park the car with just five minutes to go before the tardy bell, and I decide I have time for a quick cigarette before heading inside. Mikey sees me pulling at the pockets of my hoody, and rolls his eyes at me.

“They’ll give you cancer one day, you know” he reminds me, unable to control his need to fucking point out everything.

“Thanks for the reminder. I’ll see you at lunch” I wave him off, and I relax when he slams the door, letting me enjoy a couple of minutes of peace before another shitty day begins. I overestimate the time I had to smoke, and when I enter the building I see everyone is making their way into their respective classes. Of course I make it to school on time, and yet still leave myself rushing to make it to class. The room is up two flights of stairs, and I’m breathless after the first flight. Luck is on my side today, though, and I make it to my usual seat in the back row just seconds before the teacher comes in. My face is flushed, my chest is heaving, and I’m sweaty as fuck, but nobody notices, because I’m one of the unseen outcasts. I could be right in front of the class, stark naked, and yelling obscenities, and I’d still be ignored. I see it as a good thing, though; if I remain anonymous, I can easier get through the torturous exercise that is high school. I get my notebook out, ready for the lesson to begin, when the door opens. The teacher stops mid sentence, his attention on the door. Out of curiosity, I take a look, and in walks a student I’ve never seen before.

He’s tall; way too fucking tall for someone still in high school. His hair is black like mine, and long enough to be tied back; again, not too far off my own hair length. It’s his eyes that really draw my attention, though. Even from the back of the room, and even though he’s not looking in my direction, but rather at the teacher, who he hands a note to, I can see that they’re the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever encountered. He’s a slim build, like Mikey, and I’m secretly jealous. I can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, from his black skinny jeans, red hoody and too clean looking converse. He’s applied way too much eyeliner, and I can see one of the jocks taking notice of this. I swallow the saliva that’s gathering on my mouth at the sight of him and shift uncomfortably in my seat. He’s fucking gorgeous, and I don’t take my eyes off of him, even when he sits in the only free seat left in the room at the front. The teacher ignores him, and so does everybody else, for that matter. I continue to stare, though, watching him pulling out his earphones, and eyeing the desk with fascination. His expression is adorable, and his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude captivates me for the rest of the lesson, at the expense of the notes I should be taking. I stop staring after five minutes, but that doesn’t stop me from gazing at him every few minutes with nervous excitement in the pit of my stomach. It’s not like I’ll ever be friends with this guy, but my brain doesn’t want to fully process that information as it lulls me into a daydream involving the nameless newbie and myself locked in the janitor’s closet.