Colourful

The sound of children yelling all around me made me cling to my mother, nearly tripping over her feet.

"Jack, what are you doing?" My mother peered down.

"Oh, nothing, sorry," I claimed, letting go of her.

She returned her gaze to the short man, standing in front of us, babbling into the microphone. He had a red beard and bald head, which most kids found comforting for some reason. Creepy, I'd say.

"-so welcome back to the returning students, and welcome to the new ones. I hope you have a great year at Washington Elementary," a roar of applauds filled the room as the red-bearded man, who happened to be our principal, finished talking.

We were at my school's welcoming and expectations night they held every year, the night before the first day of school.

It was the same speech every year, and frankly, I had become sick of it by now. I'd rather be at home playing Pokémon or something, but my mother insists on coming every year. Probably to keep up her motherly appearance in public.

To be perfectly honest, she wasn't much of a mother at all. Sure, she fed me food sometimes, and bought me clothes once a year before school starts, and let's me live in her house, but she sure as hell doesn't care about me. The woman simply put up with me and did all she really HAD to do. Maybe that's why my father left us. But I don't care about him. I'm mad at him, and always will be. Because he left me behind.

There was a time when we could be called a family. You know, the whole mother would stay at home preparing dinner, while father took the child to the park, and when they got home, father'd kiss mother on the cheek as she passed him his news paper, and dinner would be on the table and the child would say something really freaking stupid but they'd laugh about it because they're adults, and adults aren't stupid- you know, all that bullshit. But is didn't last all that long.

Dad would disappear each evening, not returning until late hours into the night. Eventually, my mother was driven to drinking, which you know is always great. So I'd have a drunk mother and a missing father to deal with when I was only, like, 4. So yeah, as that went on, the time that my father actually was home, they'd fight. At first they did their best to hide it from me, because oh how terrifying it is for a child to see his parents fighting, but one day, they just stopped caring. No wonder my swearing habits aren't the best. So one night, my dad decided that it'd be the last night of hearing accusing slurs like an "uncaring asshole" or "cheating bastard" or, you know, things along that line, and he packed his suit case and never returned. And honey, you thought my mother's drinking problem was bad then? This made it even worst.

My mom would forget to pick me up from school or soccer practice, so I had to learn how to walk home from school and I quit soccer. One time when I was 6, she forgot to feed me for 3 days. I did manage to mooch off this kid Austin's lunch one day, but only because his mom picked him up for lunch at McDonald's, and he forgot his lunch bag at school, so I stole it from his desk. But this kid Aaron, who was one of his best friends, beat me up because he caught me putting it back, and so the next day Austin and his little group of friends made sure that no one talked to me. Like geez kid I just ate your lunch. You had fucking McDonald's anyways, why do you care?

By the time I was about 8, I became used to all this, though. I learned how to cook for myself, including using an oven. I know what you're thinking, an 8 year old using an oven?? But that's unsafe!!! Well guess what, it was either that, or starve to death. Besides, my mother didn't give a shit, anyways. And I've always been a pretty smart kid.

Okay, by smart kid, I don't mean like, number smart or whatever, I mean like smart as in, I can pick things up pretty quickly, and I'm pretty clever if I do say so myself. Which brings me to the point of why I haven't called like social services or whatever on my mom.

There was no point, honestly. If I did, I'm pretty sure she'd make up some bullshit excuse and act like a saint when the people were over. And even if it did work, where the hell was I supposed to go? Unfortunately, my mom's parents were both dead. Car accident and Cancer. And my mom was an only child (explains why she's a greedy little bitch) so she had no siblings. And my dad's side of the family was completely cut off after he left. Not like it made any difference, I'd never met any of them before, anyways. Which brings me back to the fact that she'd probably fake being a caring mother and deny everything she'd done. And after the social service people left, she'd probably beat me. Yes, beat me.

First of all, my mother did not abuse me often, but when she did, she'd have to be drunk as hell, or furious with me. So there were those very few times where she'd beat me, and trust me, they were not fun. So, being the smart child I am, I figured there would be no point in reporting my mother. So after my mother did something really, really bad to me, I'd tell myself "wait until you're 18" and count how many years I had left. When I'm 18, I can finally leave my mom. Hallelujah, bitches.

"Jack Barakat?" I was brought out of my thoughts by a screechy voice calling my name.

I looked over to see my teacher of this year, Miss Honey. Yes, Miss Honey. Like from Matilda. But this Miss Honey didn't look anything like that Miss Honey. She was plump with a freckled face, and round glasses almost like Harry Potter's. And I'm pretty sure this Miss Honey is like 50 years old or something. Not that that Miss Honey's age had been revealed. Or had it? I don't know, I didn't read the book, nor did I pay much attention to the movie. But I totally connected to Matilda in the fact that we both had shitty parents. But the only part that ever really stuck out to me was the part with the boy who was forced to eat that cake by that Trenchbull lady. Man was she a bitch.

"Jack?" Once again, my name had been called but this time I looked towards the lady.

"Jack," she smiled warmly, "I'm Miss Honey. It appears I will be your teacher this year. I'm very pleased to hear that you're in my class. I've heard that you're a wonderful student from your former teacher-" total bullshit, Mr. Ostroche hated my guts. Like he legit had it out for me. "-so I'm hoping to start this year on a good note."

She looked up to my mom who seemed to be barely paying attention,(probably alcohol withdrawal or whatever) and smiled.

"You must be Jack's mother."

"Huh, oh yes. I'm little Jacky's mother. I'm sure he'll have a great year. I mean he loved writing and reading and all that sh-stuff."

Miss Honey's smile faltered for a mere second. A time period so short, that you'd have to really be paying attention to her, in order to notice. Probably at my mother's almost-slip up. Maybe this lady can see through my mother's act of pretending to care. Or maybe she's just a tight-ass who doesn't like swearing.

"Great..." She looked back to me, "well I'm looking forward to tomorrow, Jack. See you later!" She screeched. God, that voice is annoying. How on earth am I supposed to get used to it.

So anyways, shit happened and the event was over so it was time to go home right, but I had to pee. And yeah I'd rather pee here, at the school, than at home, where my mom may walk in and throw up because she's so drunk. Yes that has happened. So I wanted to avoid anything like that happening again.

"Mom, wait, I need to pee."

"God, Jack, can't you wait? We need to get home."

"Come on, mom, I'll only be a couple minutes, I promise."

"Jack, can't you hold it?"

Shut up lady, I'm going to fucking piss myself.

"No, mom, please just let me go, I'll leave you alone for the rest of tonight and tomorrow."

"Fine, quit your whining. God, Jack, you're so annoying," she finally gave in, in which I triumphantly skipped away. But then I stopped because I probably would have pissed all over the floor if I kept jumping like that.

But my mom noticed I stopped, and so I turned my head when she yelled at me to hurry up, causing me to stop dead in the hallway, where another kid bumped into me. Great, just great.

"Oh, man, sorry," I spilled apologies.

The boy had sandy brown-ish blond-ish hair (I couldn't decide if it were more brown or blond). He reached out for a pair of glasses that had evidently been knocked off his face. So as he struggled to find them, me being the decent person I truly am, I picked them up and put them in his hands.

"Here."

His eyes flicked up to my own, and I noticed a difference in them. It wasn't as if they were ugly, in fact I actually thought they looked neat, but he noticed me staring and obviously became self conscious so he put them on, muttered a "thanks" and felt up the wall, as he walked away.

I had never seen this kid before. He was definitely strange.

And due to that little meeting, I forgot I had to pee.

-

"Jack get your lazy ass out of bed!"

I was startled out of my dream. It was actually pretty good, to be honest. I was at a buffet surrounded by clouds and I was joined by a purple bunny who only said "rainbows" or "you are rainbows" or "we are rainbows". It was pretty fucking weird, but who cares, at least it's better than my every day life.

I forced my eyes open, still only seeing darkness coming from my bedroom window, and when I turned over to read my clock, I found out it was 3:38 am. Of course it was.

My mother nearly knocked my door down, stumbling as she came closer to my bed. Obviously she had drank extra to make up for being sober for a couple hours last night. Believe me, this isn't the first time this has happened. It usually happened every year around this time. I'm surprised I forgot.

"Jaaaaack g-get up its time for-" she hiccuped, "-sch-schooool."

When I hadn't obliged, she raised her hand up.

"But mom it's only 3:30," I replied, tiredly.

"Stop... Your wh-whining you little... Little..." And she brought her hand upon my cheek.

I winced at the pain coursing through my cheek. I may have been getting used to it, but it still hurt like hell.

"N-now get up... For school..."

"Mom school doesn't start for 5 hours."

"D-don't be... smart with me!" And again she slapped me, worsening the pain that was already there.

"Mom, please stop. Go to bed you're drunk," was I aware I was possibly making it worst by talking like this? Yes. But I was tired alright, and I'm not smart when I'm tired.

So she did some more damage. Surely I'd wake up with a couple more bruises. Man I hated this.

As soon as she tired herself out, she stumbled out of my room, slurring a few disheartening remarks about her only son, me. It was 3:53 am. No way I can fall back asleep, so I turned over, gasping with pain a few times, and mumbled the words to myself.

"Wait until you're 18," I sighed and counted, pausing in between each number, "1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8."

And so, instead of falling back asleep, I let the sound of Blink 182 flow through my ears, laying there, numbly, staring at the ceiling.

-

"Jack Barakat?" Miss Honey's screechy voice pierced my ears, shaking me back to reality.

"Here..." I timidly called back.

I was so tired from staying up most of last night that I completely forgot what was happening. Thanks to Miss Honey's screech, I was starting to wake up. Quickly searching around the room, I found all my classmates. I recognized all of them except one, a boy sitting next to me, who I vaguely remember coming in late. But as I looked at him once more, I realized I did in fact recognize the boy, it was the one I bumped into last night. The one who made me forget to pee. He was even wearing those glasses too. He noticed my staring and shrunk into his seat. No, no, I didn't wanna make the impression that I was bad-staring! I just can't take my eyes off of him! The good kind of staring, okay.

"Alex Gaskarth!" Miss Honey called.

"Here," the boy beside me poked his head up. So that's his name. Alex.

When everyone settled in and Miss Honey began explaining class rules, I began to zone out once again. It's not like you learn anything important on the first day, right. So this is basically how it went up until lunch time, where we were excused from the classroom and I stayed back to wait until every kid was gone, because that's just what I always did. But I noticed that Alex had not moved, and Miss Honey was crouched over, talking to him. She walked to the corner to grab what looked to be a stick-thing, but on her way back, she noticed I hadn't left yet.

"Jack, it's lunch time, you have been dismissed. Why don't you catch up with your friends," she huffed, impatiently.

"But Miss Honey, I don't have any friends," true.

"Well, Jack, you're going to need to make some. How long have you been going to this school?"

"Ever since kindergarten, Miss Honey," I smiled, sickly. I loved making teachers realize I was an outcast. I loved coming across as weird. I didn't crave pity, I craved judgment, because I knew I deserved it. That's what my mom told me anyways. And all the kids at school. And everyone else.

"Well, Jack, you should leave now and go eat," she frowned.

"Alright," I sighed in defeat, pushing out my chair, and walking outside the door. Except I didn't go to the cafeteria where all the other kids were, I stayed near the outside of the classroom, just close enough so I could hear and not be seen. What can I say, this Alex kid piqued my interest.

"... Could get used to using it before the operation..." Miss Honey suggested.

"Yeah, I guess. But they're only taking out one. I won't be completely blind."

"I know, but I think it'd be easier this way, Alex."

"Alright," I heard Alex's chair pushing back.

Jumping to the bench and reaching for my small lunch bag I packed for myself, I awaited Alex's arrival to the hall. I hear him walking out the door, so I looked down as I ate.

"Why are you everywhere I go?" He asked.

"Me?" I looked up, faking a look of confusion.

"Yes, you, Jack Barakat." So we're using first and last names?

"Well, Alex Gaskarth," 2 can play at that game, "I have no idea why," I stuffed a part of my sandwich into my mouth.

Alex came and sat next to me, reaching up into a bag above his head, and taking out a smaller one.

"I thought I'd be the only to bring my own lunch..." He grinned.

"No, I'm allergic to a whole lot of shit, so I don't like to take chances with the cafeteria food."

Alex gasped like any 10-year-old would after hearing a swear word.

"What, never heard someone swear before?"

"It's just, my mom always told me not to swear. And we're at school, what if you had gotten caught?"

"But I didn't get caught," I smirked.

"Yes, but," he ripped open a pack of fruit gushers, "what if you did?"

"Oh my god, Alex, I didn't alright," I laughed, and took another note of my sandwich.

He laughed as well, trying not to spit out his gushers.

"And besides, I'm 10 years old. I'll be 11 soon. You gotta start at some point, might as well start young," I finished off my sandwich as Alex nodded at me.

"Don't you have anything other than that sandwich?" He noticed the lack of food in my lunch.

"Oh, no. There's nothing else at my home. I'm lucky I can even make a sandwich," I answered, matter-of-fact-ly.

"But why doesn't your mom make you anything else?"

"Oh my mom doesn't make my lunch. Not since kindergarten."

"Oh..." He looked down.

"Not that it's baby-ish to get it made by your parent, I mean everyone does. My mom just doesn't. She'd need to care enough," I reassured him, seeing the look on his face, and mumbling the last part.

He smiled up at me, placing a packet of gushers, a chewy bar, and a cosmic brownie in my lunch bag.

"You know what, Jack Barakat, you're pretty cool."

"You too, Alex Gaskarth, and thanks for the food."