Give Me A Reason To Believe
Belleville Hell School
Baylie's P.O.V.
School.
As soon as my sneakers touched the bright green grass of the school, I wanted to crawl deep into a black hole and hide for the rest of my life.
Typical feeling school will give you, and you'd think I would be plenty used to it by now.
I automatically knew that everything was gunna be the same. A three story building surrounded by preps and people who judge you the second you step onto their turf.
They try to poison you with their eyes.
I felt as if a million flying daggers were stabbing me, as they stared my up and down.
What could they possibly be looking at? My nails? Hair? Clothes?
All they were was perfect little plastic dolls in the bodies of jocks and snobbs who only cared about what you looked like according to them.
Yous couldn't be a Marilyn Manson or Billie Joel action figure and still be called a toy around them. Because all they would do was try and make you suffer, and they would. And when they would, it would hurt.
I started my long walk towards the big building holding a banner spelling out:
WELCOME BACK STUDENTS OF BELLEVILLE HIGH SCHOOL
As my foot touched the first of the steps, I felt all the fingers pointing, and the whispers of a thousand barbies and kens. I sighed.
Before my feet even reached the third step, I froze.
I saw something.
SOMEONE, technically.
I slowly lowered my foot from the step, and turned towards the biggest tree I had ever seen in my life.
But it wasn't the tree I was looking at. I was looking at the boy sitting under it.
I will never forget how he looked right then. Words could never describe.
He looked about my age, and had jet black hair surrounding his soft and pale face. He was wearing black skinny jeans, with a Misfits t-shirt underneath his black leather jacket, with a soft, but daring shade of eyeliner on.
But his eyes.
He had beautiful hazel eyes. They struck me like lightning, and I could't take my eyes off of them.
I couldn;t stop staring at him.
Why couldn't I stop?
It scared me that I was standing so far away, but could see every single detail of him.
He..
he reminded me of.. me.
Whoa.
He was holding a pencil in his right hand, and a thick black sketchbook in the other.
The look on his face. It was....sad.
I'm not sure how long I was staring at him, but I was sure that I had been for a long time, when he looked up.
Straight at me.
Damnit.
School.
As soon as my sneakers touched the bright green grass of the school, I wanted to crawl deep into a black hole and hide for the rest of my life.
Typical feeling school will give you, and you'd think I would be plenty used to it by now.
I automatically knew that everything was gunna be the same. A three story building surrounded by preps and people who judge you the second you step onto their turf.
They try to poison you with their eyes.
I felt as if a million flying daggers were stabbing me, as they stared my up and down.
What could they possibly be looking at? My nails? Hair? Clothes?
All they were was perfect little plastic dolls in the bodies of jocks and snobbs who only cared about what you looked like according to them.
Yous couldn't be a Marilyn Manson or Billie Joel action figure and still be called a toy around them. Because all they would do was try and make you suffer, and they would. And when they would, it would hurt.
I started my long walk towards the big building holding a banner spelling out:
WELCOME BACK STUDENTS OF BELLEVILLE HIGH SCHOOL
As my foot touched the first of the steps, I felt all the fingers pointing, and the whispers of a thousand barbies and kens. I sighed.
Before my feet even reached the third step, I froze.
I saw something.
SOMEONE, technically.
I slowly lowered my foot from the step, and turned towards the biggest tree I had ever seen in my life.
But it wasn't the tree I was looking at. I was looking at the boy sitting under it.
I will never forget how he looked right then. Words could never describe.
He looked about my age, and had jet black hair surrounding his soft and pale face. He was wearing black skinny jeans, with a Misfits t-shirt underneath his black leather jacket, with a soft, but daring shade of eyeliner on.
But his eyes.
He had beautiful hazel eyes. They struck me like lightning, and I could't take my eyes off of them.
I couldn;t stop staring at him.
Why couldn't I stop?
It scared me that I was standing so far away, but could see every single detail of him.
He..
he reminded me of.. me.
Whoa.
He was holding a pencil in his right hand, and a thick black sketchbook in the other.
The look on his face. It was....sad.
I'm not sure how long I was staring at him, but I was sure that I had been for a long time, when he looked up.
Straight at me.
Damnit.