Chapter 1 - Common PeopleA Chapter by Viccy RogersRING! RING! It was Jake's first day at Greendale High School, and he was completely lost. What an idiot he'd been to feel triumphant after completing the maze at the gardens he used to visit with his mother as a child. And the bell had just gone. S**t. He was frantically rushing up and down a corridor, in desperate search of classroom L5. He had previously passed rooms L1, L2, L3 and L4, then promptly reached a dead end. How the hell did that work? Publicly looking flushed, bothered or worried wasn't something Jake did often. Keeping his cool played a very important role in his life being a 16-year-old boy, yet even he had to swallow all dignity in this scenario and run around like an idiot. After all, no one wants to be late to their first lesson on their first day. The headmaster had been prepared to follow the standard procedure of showing the new kid to the classroom after the awkward introduction and welcome session, however Jake �" going through a new-found independence phase �" had insisted upon finding the room himself and had lied about passing it on his way in. Appealing to urgent measures, Jake asked a passing boy who looked a few years younger than him judging by his lanky physique, acne and untied trainer laces for directions. In his old school, there had been a clear hierarchy of importance: with the good looking older kids at the top, shortly followed by the mean older kids, then the other older kids, and then the younger kids at the bottom with the rats and vermin. Without wanting to boast, Jake was proud to have achieved a comfortably high position with a good reputation without being mean. However, this system did not seem to apply to this new school for some odd reason, as this funny-looking midget seemed appalled that a new kid had spoken to him. “Up my arse” the boy snorted: an attempt at a snide remark in order to gain desired popularity. The boy trudged away, wallowing down the corridors, blissfully unaware of the dick someone had drawn on his unzipped backpack. Unappreciative of the lack of help he'd received from the little brat, Jake sighed. Luckily, a girl had overheard his pleads for some form of assistance. She was odd-looking too, but in a different way. He noticed straight away how her unusually dark hair contrasted against her pale skin. Her con caved cheeks hid inside her skull, creating dark shadows across her hollow cheekbones. Creepy. “Up the stairs over there, first door to your right. Next to the library,” she said. “But don't worry �" you're not late. The first bell only warns students that they should be getting to class. You still have another...” he watched with a hint of amusement in his eyes and a twitch to his lips as she studied her empty wrist in some detail. “...three and a half minutes until the second bell will go. Exactly.” Jake, not convinced at her level of precision considering she wore no watch, checked his own watch for confirmation. Her wrist had definitely been empty besides some black tattoo of a star and moon. He did this whilst nodding politely at her, and smiling when he said, “I'm Jake, by the way.” When he said this, the girl raised her head and removed several strands of jet black hair from her face, to reveal the surprising revelation that she was actually okay-looking. You know, for a weirdo. “I'm April,” she replied in a voice so weak it could almost be classed as a whisper. She had pretty features. Apart from her eyes �" these were ever so dull. As he stared in them, he wondered whether she was looking in so much detail at him much like he was her. Beginning to feel self-conscious, he ran his hands through his spiky brown hair: an inherited comfort trait from his dad. Probably the only thing he'd ever got from his dad. He thought of himself as quite good-looking. He had straight teeth. He had clear skin. And despite the health risks implied, Jake ignored them all in every inhalation of smoke he took. He'd first started smoking to fit in; peer pressure and all that. Adults had tried to warn him off, yet he'd still insisted it looked cool. Now he would quit if he could, but he found himself paranoid without his trusted lighter in his pocket at all times, along with a pack of the newsagents' finest. He craved a cigarette right now, actually. His chocolate brown eyes scrolled down to her lips. He found himself unwillingly wondering what they would be like to kiss. He quickly shook that thought away, pleasant as it was, after realising neither of them had spoken for some time. “I'd better be off them,” he mumbled, as he turned to walk away towards the stairs. After a few hesitant steps he turned around to see if she was still there, watching him walk away, but she had gone �" disappeared into the crowd most likely. He played back her instructions in his head, and found himself amongst a bunch of kids his age lining up for foundation mathematics, on the first door to his right, next to the library. Unsure of himself, he glanced at each arrangement of kids, each separated firmly into tightly filtered friendship groups, all laughing, chatting and moaning about the unfairness of having maths first thing on a Monday morning. Jake couldn't see anywhere he could fit in or discreetly slip himself into a conversation, so he simply leaned against the wall in a casual position, hoping to appear nonchalant. As promised, the second bell bleated heartily three and a half minutes after the girl �" April �" had said. Exactly.
* * *
There had been a new boy at school today, or at least she assumed he'd been new. She'd never seen him around before, and she'd been at the school an awful long time. Too long. And she was sure she would have noticed him. She had broken a rule for him. She wasn't supposed to talk to people unless she absolutely couldn't help it. But this time, she couldn't. She had never been able to ignore the jaunting, intimidating voices that had been drilled into her mind warning her not to talk to people before. But she hadn't even had to try when talking to him. It had felt so natural. She had started to draw him when she'd arrived home. She was good at drawing. Any self-received compliments to her meant going no further than simply stating obvious facts such as 'you have hair' or 'you have long nails'. Any adjectives were out of the question when describing herself. Therefore, she didn't have to feel guilty about using the word 'good' about just this one thing. She felt okay with admitting to herself that she was at home with a pencil and piece of paper. Mostly she drew the view from her little square window. She saw this window as her own little square section of the world. Her little hope that belonged to her and no one else. When looking out of that window, she could pretend that she was just one of those people walking past obliviously as oppose to herself, trapped in this life with this body and these scars upon her chest from a heart operation she'd had as a child, marking her. She considered it awfully generous and uncharacteristic of her parents to allow her her own window. It wasn't like them at all to let her have any dealings with the outside world. Little did they know. Today, she'd had something different to draw. She hadn't thought it would be this hard when she'd began. Yet, hours later, the blank piece of white paper still stared expectantly up at her, untouched and uncertain it ever would be. She didn't know where to start. And then it came to her: his eyes. How that deep shade of brown haunted her. But that didn't matter anyway, as every one of her sketches were in black and white. Not only did she not have the resources for colour images as she struggled alone with a blunt HB pencil, but she also felt her lifestyle was bland and grey, and that this should be clearly reflected in her artwork. She picked up her only pencil and started to outline the shape of his eyes. Doing so, her mind flicked back like a channel on TV to that wonderful moment when they had stared hypnotically at each other in silence. All those torturous years at school had been worth the pain purely because of that moment, when her heart had pounded against her ribcage like the beatings of a heavy drum. Boom, boom, boom! He had been the one who had at last, broken the connection. For a moment, as she pencilled in the detail surrounding the pupils on her page, she wondered if he liked her. Luckily, she caught herself quickly. Picking up her only pencil and snapping it in two, she repeated to herself: Don't let your mind wander, April. The paper, scrunched in a tight ball, landed on target in the dustbin. I mustn't, I mustn't.
Lying in bed that night, Jake tried hard not to think of April, of course thinking only of April. It wasn't not like he fancied her or anything, but she'd been the only person who had talked to him all day, so he had no one else to think about. He couldn't get the image of her sad, dull eyes out of his head. They were whirlpools in a black and white film; all unexpected. The thought sat firmly in his mind feeling cosy and at home, as if it was prepared to stay there for a long while. His first day at Greendale had been a disaster. Although, Jake reckoned he couldn't really call it that as nothing had really happened. That was the disastrous part: nothing had happened. All day, no one had acknowledged his existence. He'd felt like a ghost, roaming the corridors of the school he died in in a transparent silhouette whilst people walked through him sneezing. So, that's why his conversation with April stayed so firmly in his thought train. In fact, her eyes and her skin and her lips was all his thought train consisted of. It was an endless cycle of one then the other; as if someone had looped a record track and taped the headphones to his ears so he couldn't block it out. She was so different �" in a good way. All the other girls he'd seen that day had merged into one image; he couldn't differentiate one from another. The amount of make-up they wore made him want to weep for humanity. He'd almost felt obliged to poke a foundation-covered cheek just to see if inches of crusty, skin-coloured goo would crumble from the skin's surface like when you stand on a sandcastle. Turning over after noticing the fluorescent green light spelling out the numbers 03:00am on his alarm clock, Jake cleared his mind, crashing all trains, forgetting all Greendale memories, and tried to get some sleep.
As Mr Wilkinson gathered in the class the next morning, April was the last one to enter, as expected. Her eyes flickered wearily as she sat down. “Tired are we, April?” he called out. He always pronounced her name as 'a-pril' as a result of living in various different locations and picking up numerous accents causing some words to come out in an entirely new dialect altogether. Though it irritated her, it had never occurred to her to correct him, and she would never do so even if it had. She looked up, only half concentrating, and nodded at him timidly. Strange child, he thought to himself. In all his years of teaching in all the aforementioned locations, he'd never come across anyone quite like April. He always attempted to make polite conversational small-talk with her, yet had received less than 10 words in response all year. And it had been a long year. Despite himself, even after sneakily glancing across at her English grade and spotting a shocking A*, he'd began to wonder whether she actually knew how to say any more. Groaning in his mind at the thought of it only being a Tuesday, he turned his attention to the rest of the class and pinned a Cheshire-cat grin from his left cheek to his right. After all, he believed the key to a successful teacher was enthusiasm and involvement. Wincing as he started yet another register as the beginning of his simple, routine day, he tried hard to sound chirpy and encouraging in every name he called.
As Mr Wilkinson called out her name, April put her hand up as oppose to moaning 'yes sir' like the other kids. None of the teachers really seemed to mind �" they knew saying words was a rare occasion for her. In habit, Mr Wilkinson looked up from his register and around the classroom in the search of her hand, and after spotting it, returned to looking down. April couldn't understand why he always seemed so cheerful all the time. Life isn't that good for anyone, let alone an ageing teacher most likely with an unstable pension plan, deteriorating eye-sight and who works with group after group of bored, careless teenagers who would rather be anywhere else than in his company. Every day in form time, he for some reason felt it necessary to engage in light-hearted conversation with her. Though meant well, it only made her feel awkward as it would be against her rules to talk to him back.
On the table next to April, Mia had been placed. She'd been moved next to all the outcasts because she'd talked too much in her old place with her friends. She hated where she sat in form. Franki and Jess were both miles away on the other side of the classroom, happily nattering on about something she would love to natter on about with them. How come they never got moved? Why did she always have to sit next to the misfits? Checking her reflection in her pocket mirror which she held with steady hands under the desk as she pouted her lips, she applied another layer of lip gloss. Ew, she thought to herself. This chewing-gum is getting old. She rolled her eyes as she looked from her left side to her right. On the left: Fat Rob. He had no friends as no one could stand watching him disgustingly stuff his face with dangerous amounts of food �" more than he could chew at a time or with his mouth closed �" every break time. As she studied him closer she realised he was secretly eating a packet of crisps as he looked guiltily up at Mr W. Gross. On her right: April. The freak who never spoke. She didn't have a problem with April; she just sat there. Nothing offensive, or gross. But she was such a bore to sit next to. Maybe Mia could get her to say something this time? After all, she could be very persuasive... “April! Did you watch Corrie last night? Dead dramatic!” she started. She then watched in bemused confusion as April's eyes flickered with terror and, like a rabbit caught in headlights, her head shook rapidly. “Erm... you do have a TV, right?” Mia continued. After a reasonable time, she gave up, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows at the rude behaviour of that freak. She'd never been ignored like that in her life. Yet, April hadn't hesitated to turn her head in the opposite direction and pretend she hadn't heard Mia's voice. Everyone heard Mia's voice. It was so loud, no one could ever not hear her voice, hence the seating arrangement. Too offended to try again, Mia spent the rest of form time with her head on the desk.
April was quite confused. Why had one of the popular girls started speaking to her? How unusual. And what the hell was 'Corrie'? She hadn't responded, of course. She didn't even care that Mia thought she was really weird. She did care a little, despite herself, when Mia had ran up to all her friends as soon as the bell had gone and sniggered, “She doesn't even own a TV.” As if on cue, she'd suddenly felt one hundred judging eyes upon her. She'd told herself that she didn't care about what they said, but she wasn't fooling anyone. Observing the moon tattoo on her wrist and holding it protectively, she forcefully held back a line of tears lined up ready to dribble down her cheeks. Not even herself.
* * *
Jake really wasn't enjoying today. He'd used up all his energy just getting out of bed in the morning. Calculating in his head the few hours he'd spent asleep considering he'd fallen asleep at 3 and been awoken by his angry alarm clock at a painful half six in the morning, that totalled to only three and a half hours of sleep. How was it only first break? It felt like he'd been at school for years today. And if possible �" breaks were the worst part. He'd never had to spend them alone before. He'd never found it so difficult to fit in somewhere. He'd been the cool guy at his old school. His old school. How he yearned to be back there. Back with his old mates. His old girlfriends. Even his old teachers. He scanned the canteen for someone to sit with. He knew he wouldn't find anyone, but he hoped he could use up his break looking like he had somewhere to go. He never thought he'd be trying to waste his break time looking for people to hang out with. He knew who in particular he was looking for. Though he knew full-well it was social suicide to sit with an outcast, here it seemed like he was also an outcast, so he had nothing to lose. Could he sit with 'Fat Rob' as the other kids called him? No �" surrounded by cake and sandwiches, the boy looked content on his own. Where was April? Where was she? Where did she spend her breaks? He wasn't sure if she was popular or not, but he guessed not. Still, he would rather sit with her than anyone else. However, sitting with her didn't appear to be an option as she was nowhere to be seen. Depressed, Jake left, and headed to the boys' toilets. At least there he could lock himself in a cubicle and practise being invisible; that seemed to be his role in this school. He was water, just colourless and see-through. Something that would be there every day, and people interacted with without thinking about, but that no one is really interested in. He hadn't ever had to try to avoid being the mundane boy before. In his old school, the men's room had lacked CCTV, therefore had created a perfect smoking environment for the older students. To his surprise, he found the toilets empty here. Not foolish enough to have a smoke like usual as he peered up at the round camera that by the sinks (thankfully not reaching as far as inside the cubicles), Jake found himself in a useless position: bored, tired and alone. He eventually decided it would be less creepy and more hygienic to sit on the thin, empty corridor outside both the girls' and boys' rooms. He watched, amused, as a group of girls he vaguely recognised �" must have seen them around yesterday �" marched into the girls', each armed with a mascara in hand. The one at the front was quite pretty. She had nice brown hair. Nothing compared to April, though. As she passed him, she eyed him up and down, then whispered something to her friend less discreetly than she imagined. Promptly, her two friends began to giggle hysterically. They then continued to the toilets. Jake merely frowned and looked away. He hated being laughed at, as he imagined most people did.
On the other side of the door, Mia was busy perfecting every aspect of her appearance in front of the mirrors. She was still mad at Franki for giggling really loudly and making it obvious when she'd whispered to her that she thought the guy who'd been outside was fit. Franki was such an idiot. She just followed everyone around, acting like an idiot and going on about some special diet she was on. Franki had been getting on her nerves a lot recently. Mia spent a whole 10 minutes applying and reapplying her make-up, until finally emerging from the bathrooms. The fit boy was still there. “Are you new?” she asked him whilst batting her eyelashes and beaming like a half-moon, after shooing her friends away. The boy replied, without looking up. “This is my second day,” he said, bluntly. This irritated Mia. All that time spent ensuring her hair was perfectly smooth would all be for nothing if he didn't even bloody look at her. Oh no �" she wasn't going to give up that easily. Determinedly, she stepped forward and sat down next to him, pointing the toes in front of her wearing lacy black ballet flats. This made him finally raise his head. He stared at her for a long time, but not in a creepy way. She felt as if he was a sponge absorbing her. Taking her in. Examining her. Looking unsuccessfully for imperfections �" she liked to think.
Jake wasn't used to this. Why had the girl who'd ignored him all the way through maths yesterday morning (that's where he recognised her from), suddenly sat next to him? He felt uncomfortable. He'd talked to girls all the time in his old school, but now it felt...unnatural. Like he wasn't supposed to be sat with her. It wasn't his job to sit with girls in this school; it was his job to be invisible, wasn't it? He didn't even know her name. Before he hadn't wanted to look up, wary of some sort of practical joke. But now they were alone �" he was certain she was sincere �" allowing him to raise his head and look at her properly. Her hair was a shiny golden-brown colour, and the cheap lighting reflected from it in ringlets. Her lips were pink, glittery and gooey. Her eyes were basic Barbie-doll blue and very wide. She appeared to be blinking an unsettling amount of times. He wondered if she had something in her eyes. Probably mascara, he mused, as he watched each clumpy, stiff lash bat up and down rhythmically. Her skin was tanned, not exactly evenly. She was more orange than anyone could possibly be naturally, especially in England after the dreary months they'd had. She resembled the can of Tango he'd consumed on his way home from school yesterday. Despite her many imperfections, she was still good-looking. Once upon a time, he would have fancied her. Now, he wouldn't hesitate to say she wasn't his type. Far from it, in fact. Now, he knew that his type was girls who were a bit different. Maybe with grey eyes. Maybe with dark hair. His type was definitely girls who were good listeners as oppose to talkers. Maybe with pale skin. Maybe with a star and moon tattoo. Yes, girls with soft looking lips and funny names were definitely his type. The more he thought about it, the more he seemed to agree with himself. Girls like April. “So what's your name then?” Mia persisted. Boys were usually all over her, but this one was playing hard to get. “Jake,” the boy said. Jake. She'd thought he looked like a Jake. © 2013 Viccy RogersFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
429 Views
6 Reviews  Last Updated on May 5, 2013 Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
prev chapter
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing