The screen door slammed loudly, startling me. I had meant to close it slowly but I had misjudged the doors weight and the ferocity with which it strikes the latch it's attached to when let go of. You had to shut it all the way by hand lest it would slam. I hope it doesn't upset my father, the last thing I wanted to do was upset him, not because I loved him so dearly that I couldn't bare inconveniencing him, no, it wasn't that at all.
The opposite actually. I hated him and would have loved nothing more than to slam that door a million times more just to spite him, but I was scared of him. I was scared of what he would do to me. He loved to beat me over the littlest things. I remember once, when I left a spoon in the sink without washing it, he beat me for over an hour. That's just an example of how the most minuscule of things could set him off.
I made my way down the concrete pathway leading from my doorstep to the sidewalk. The frigid December air smashed into me like I had just dove head first into a frozen river. The last bit of drowsiness was just smacked out of me. I glanced up, the sky was gray and cloudy. It looked the way a stereotypical painting of a dreary, fall day would look.
I continued on walking, sliding my hands into my coat pocket, trying to retain as much warmth as I could inside the thin wool slits of fabric. Like placing your hands inside of a wound I thought.
The sad thing was I loved cold weather, but because I was poor I wasn't able to enjoy it. I didn't have enough money to afford a huge, quality winter coat. Rich people don't even realize the things they get to enjoy that the less fortunate cannot. Even something as simple as the cold.
I soon reached the bus stop, and began what would be twenty minutes of waiting. I stood there, shivering and bored. I had always hated catching the bus. I hated the fact that all the other kids could see where I lived. I was ashamed of my house. It was a small two bedroom one bathroom single family home. It looked as if it was falling apart and in many ways it was. It was the equivalent of acne on the earth.
Rationally I knew I shouldn't have felt bad for being a poor kid, I mean its not like it was my fault or that i'm any less of a person because i'm poor. But still, because of some internalized stigma I hated myself for it. I hated myself for a lot of things. Society really does a number on you.
The bus arrived and I hurried my way up the stairs, trying my best to avoid letting my eyes meet the bus drivers. I imagined how pathetic it must feel to be a career bus driver. I struggle to believe that anyone would ever aspire to be a bus driver for the rest of their lives. I would kill myself if i were him.
The heat was welcoming, it let me know that I was safe, I think subconsciously heat calms you because it reminds you of the heat of another person, like when you are being hugged by someone, the synergy the heat creates between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why the heat from another person comforts us is because it reminds us of being held by our mothers when we were children. And that seems like a naturally occurring propensity, I mean just observing the way animals huddle together with their young.
Although the heat was welcoming, the other people were not. I didn't have any friends, and everyone looked at me as though I were some type of strange alien like being, one that they wanted nothing to do with. I had often wondered why I never made any friends, it wasn't because i was ugly, in fact i was very good looking. I had been asked out by many girls, but I always rejected them...
Maybe it was just because I was so weird, and not the most welcoming of people if i'm being honest. I didn't like the things that others boys liked. I hated sports and all the other stereo-typically masculine things they all seemed to enjoy. I wasn't like other guys.
I sank down in my seat, and blew my hot breath on the window. I slid my finger around in the condensation. Every morning i ride this bus I feel so distraught about the fact that I couldn't afford an iphone. Imagine if I could listen to music, or an audio book while waiting here. It would make it a far more tolerable experience.
We soon reached the school, and immediately upon arriving everyone on the bus stood up, stampeding towards the door. I waited until everyone else left and then flung myself from my seat, and exited the bus.
I was once again greeted by the same frigid air I had been attacked by earlier, only this time it wasn't as unbearable because I had just spent like 30 minutes in the comforting heat of the bus and would soon be encompassed by the comforting heat of the school.
A crowd had formed around the entrance, school didn't start for 15 more minutes. Some kids went inside to eat breakfast and others stood outside loitering.
I made my way through the crowd, quite easily, as everyone just ignored me as if i were a ghost.
The heat rushed out of the glass doors like inmates running out of a prison bus on their first day back home, or a burglar running out of someones home upon being threatened to be shot by the owners after they caught him.
The aroma of food both sickened and enticed me.
The school cooks handed me a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. I didn't have to pay for it because my dads level of income was below the poverty line. I was always embarrassed when getting food at school, because I feared the other kids would see that i didn't have to pay for food like they did and they would know it was because i was too poor to afford to buy any, so the school was obligated to give it to me.
I made my way to an empty table and began to eat. I made sure to eat slowly and with my mouth closed, lest people stare at me with disgust. I didn't eat everything because i figured if someone was watching me and saw that i ate everything they would think i only ate that much because i didn't have any food at home. Which was true, but i didn't want them to know that.
The bell rung and I got up, dumped my tray, and hurried to my locker.
I reached my homeroom and took a seat in the back of class, away from everyone else.
The teacher started taking attendance, and when she got to me i uttered the word ''here'' in an awkward mousy voice. I always hated when she would take attendance. That was the time i was required to speak and make my presence known, and making my presence know was letting the world know i deserved to exist, and letting the world know i deserved to exist was opening myself up to being ridiculed for it.
After homeroom, school officially started. I made my way to first period, which was honors English.
I got to class, again finding my way to a secluded backseat. If i was dumb, perhaps sitting all the way back here would be a bad thing because i wouldn't be able to pay attention to the teacher, but I was incredibly intelligent and i didn't even have to try.
After some time passed the teacher Mrs Barnes, started talking. I didn't care enough to listen, until suddenly i heard my name called.
''What?'' i asked confused.
''you and Maverick Montgomery are going to be partners for this next assignment''
"for what assignment i asked'' this time my confusion was apparent.
''Haven't you been paying attention?''
''Its for the creative writing assignment due in 3 weeks'' she said sternly.
Maverick approached me.
The realization just hit me. Maverick Montgomery, one of the most popular boys in school in school was going to be my partner for this assignment. I gazed at him as he approached me. He was tall, probably around six feet tall. His hair was platinum blonde. His skin was white and lively. He was muscular but not overly so. His lips looked like they had a thin layer of shiny glass over them, and they were a gorgeous rosy pink. I bet he must be an amazing kisser. His eyes were brown, but a pretty light brown, not ugly like most brown eyes were.
I thought of myself in contrast to him. I was skinny, and had skin that was so pale it was almost corpse like. My hair was black as a ravens feathers, and my eyes were a pale blue. I wasn't short but I wasn't as tall as Maverick.
''So, i guess you're my partner'' Maverick scoffed at me, his tone of voice sounded as if he were displeased.