?
Day 1
To think: it all started with a bloody nose.
The air in the main office was dank, and made my head hurt more than my dripping nose. I wiped my sweaty palms on my faded jeans and leaned back against the wall, waiting. I was both annoyed with myself and with the school system. One little brawl and I was given a Saturday detention. How screwed up is that? I wasn't even the one doing the fighting! I had been punched square in the face by the guy I had always thought was my best friend; my "best friend" had been sleeping with my girlfriend and to my shock, she didn't even love me. How is that for cruel? High school was a joke, and not even the funny kind. It's the kind so idiot and immature that nobody laughs. The nurse returned from her office with a wet wash cloth and told me to tilt my head back farther, so I complied while silently protesting. She waltz out and left me to peer into the main office. The clock ticked over the main door: 10:44. Not even noon and I'd already given up on the day; must be a new record.
The door to the main office suddenly slid open over the outdated blue carpet, and little did I know, but my life would never be the same. Her black painted fingers reached around the corner of the oak office door and pushed it open, while her grey converse followed suit. She wore dark skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with the black and red logo of a band I'd never heard of. Her short, wavy auburn hair framed her thin face and hid the piercings on her ears. Her lips were ruby red, blood red, which complimented her curious green eyes, while her curvy build filled the door frame. I tried not to stare like a creep, but in all honesty it was difficult, so I focused on the clock above her: 10:47.
She walked to the crotchity receptionist and began talking to her while leaning calmly on the wooden desk. I adjusted my posture and tried to wipe my nose clean. The usually crabby lady smiled and gestured for the girl to sit down and wait. She peered around the room and spotted me as I cleaned the last of the blood from my nose and wadded the washcloth up in my hand. She sauntered over to the seat next to me and sat down, placing a black canvas back with purple newsprint at her feet. She pulled out an older generation of the iPhone and began scrolling through social media.
Again, I tried not to stare but my nosiness got the better of me.
"Who won?" She asked without looking up. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or not, but I decided to reply despite the chance of looking stupid.
"Excuse me?" I responded. She hesitated with her scrolling and tilted her head in my direction.
"You got into a fight, so who won?" She smirked a little. I just sort of looked at her for a moment in pure confusion. She smiled and turned to face me completely. She cocked her head to one side and eyed my shirt.
"Blood stains don't lie, ya know," She stated. I glanced down at my green t-shirt to see several drops of blood I had carelessly allowed to soil my clothes. I sighed in frustration and embarrassment and began trying to rub them away with the washcloth.
"It wasn't really a fight," I admitted, "There were only two hits," I tried to play it off like the other guy was in a similar condition as me, but she was a tad bit too smart for that.
"Two hits? So him hitting you and you hitting the ground?" She chuckled a little. I laughed at her humor, but continued to be intently, yet carelessly, focused on my stained shirt.
"Don't worry," She leaned close to whisper, close enough that I could smell her cinnimon perfume, "your secret's safe with me," She joked and wiped a strand of hair from her face as she sat back upright in her chair. I smile shyly and stopped hopelessly trying to clean my shirt. I looked up at her, but her face was burried back into social media.
"I'm Allison by the way," She stated. I nodded, taking in her beauty, her name, and her personilty. Allison fit her perfectly.
"I'm Ian."
The air in the main office was dank, and made my head hurt more than my dripping nose. I wiped my sweaty palms on my faded jeans and leaned back against the wall, waiting. I was both annoyed with myself and with the school system. One little brawl and I was given a Saturday detention. How screwed up is that? I wasn't even the one doing the fighting! I had been punched square in the face by the guy I had always thought was my best friend; my "best friend" had been sleeping with my girlfriend and to my shock, she didn't even love me. How is that for cruel? High school was a joke, and not even the funny kind. It's the kind so idiot and immature that nobody laughs. The nurse returned from her office with a wet wash cloth and told me to tilt my head back farther, so I complied while silently protesting. She waltz out and left me to peer into the main office. The clock ticked over the main door: 10:44. Not even noon and I'd already given up on the day; must be a new record.
The door to the main office suddenly slid open over the outdated blue carpet, and little did I know, but my life would never be the same. Her black painted fingers reached around the corner of the oak office door and pushed it open, while her grey converse followed suit. She wore dark skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with the black and red logo of a band I'd never heard of. Her short, wavy auburn hair framed her thin face and hid the piercings on her ears. Her lips were ruby red, blood red, which complimented her curious green eyes, while her curvy build filled the door frame. I tried not to stare like a creep, but in all honesty it was difficult, so I focused on the clock above her: 10:47.
She walked to the crotchity receptionist and began talking to her while leaning calmly on the wooden desk. I adjusted my posture and tried to wipe my nose clean. The usually crabby lady smiled and gestured for the girl to sit down and wait. She peered around the room and spotted me as I cleaned the last of the blood from my nose and wadded the washcloth up in my hand. She sauntered over to the seat next to me and sat down, placing a black canvas back with purple newsprint at her feet. She pulled out an older generation of the iPhone and began scrolling through social media.
Again, I tried not to stare but my nosiness got the better of me.
"Who won?" She asked without looking up. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or not, but I decided to reply despite the chance of looking stupid.
"Excuse me?" I responded. She hesitated with her scrolling and tilted her head in my direction.
"You got into a fight, so who won?" She smirked a little. I just sort of looked at her for a moment in pure confusion. She smiled and turned to face me completely. She cocked her head to one side and eyed my shirt.
"Blood stains don't lie, ya know," She stated. I glanced down at my green t-shirt to see several drops of blood I had carelessly allowed to soil my clothes. I sighed in frustration and embarrassment and began trying to rub them away with the washcloth.
"It wasn't really a fight," I admitted, "There were only two hits," I tried to play it off like the other guy was in a similar condition as me, but she was a tad bit too smart for that.
"Two hits? So him hitting you and you hitting the ground?" She chuckled a little. I laughed at her humor, but continued to be intently, yet carelessly, focused on my stained shirt.
"Don't worry," She leaned close to whisper, close enough that I could smell her cinnimon perfume, "your secret's safe with me," She joked and wiped a strand of hair from her face as she sat back upright in her chair. I smile shyly and stopped hopelessly trying to clean my shirt. I looked up at her, but her face was burried back into social media.
"I'm Allison by the way," She stated. I nodded, taking in her beauty, her name, and her personilty. Allison fit her perfectly.
"I'm Ian."