How It All Started

The beginning to it all, how he met him, how his journey started.

I looked up towards the sky, feeling the warm weather of the Southern Texas air. I sighed, thinking that I'd be going to school in about fifteen minutes. I set the nice, yet old guitar on my khaki shorts, kicking my feet with my brown sandals on. I strummed softly, enjoying the sound of the acoustic guitar, thinking of a song to play. I lifted my arm, feeling the sun rays hit my rather tan skin, and placed it in a comfortable position on the guitar.

I strummed again, then again. Beginning to play the song I'm Yours by Jason Mraz. I've had the song stuck in my head for a while, and I stared off into the large field that lay next to the old, two story house that I lived in. I sat on the porch of the house, humming the notes, the sound of the music granting a faint smile on my face. I heard my foster mother yell out the window that the bus was coming. 

I instantly got up, putting my guitar into it's case and then grabbing my bag. I rushed to the end of the short, dirt driveway that we had and got on the bus. I saw the regular people on the bus, the people I didn't talk to, but the people that had no real social status in school. I sat alone in the regular seat that I sat in, setting my guitar down so nobody could take the seat.

I looked out the window, the scenery and the rising sun reflecting in my blue eyes, my somewhat short blonde hair being ruffled and damp. The school wasn't too far from my house, I just took the bus to get a little extra morning time and to avoid walking and lugging my guitar to school.

We reached the school, and the regular big cliques were gathered around, myself not fitting in each one. Anyone would assume that I'd at least have two good friends or so, but I tend to push people away, and stick to myself most of the time. The teachers seem to adore me for that matter, so I use it to my advantage to get away with things like staying in class for lunch to play music and sing.

I walked off the bus, the usual looks from popular kids and neutral kids, the common looks of those that seemed to be attracted to me, and worst of all, the neutral look of guilt, happiness, yet confusion from Blake Louis.

Blake, tall, muscular, tan, blue-eyed, and broad was the most popular in our school. He's quarterback of the football team, best in the basketball team, and known for his hard-to-get relationship status. Currently single, with beautiful girls fawning over him, he still remains single. I didn't bother to get into his character like I did with the rest of his cruel friends, knowing that I didn't want to get myself into something I'd regret, but the curiosity of the difference of looks from his expressions and others made me want to talk to him.

I headed to my first class, setting my guitar in the back of my class. Since my math level surpassed most of the popular kids, I actually was able to avoid them for my first block class. Although math bores me, I'm somewhat good at it. I half-a*s the tests and homework and manage to get B's. I didn't mind, knowing that I didn't have a care for what I would do when I'm older. My true passion of music, is what I loved, but I knew it would be nearly impossible for me to get somewhere. Being a Junior in high school, I know I should be looking for colleges, but that's not what I wanted to do, and I don't want to live a life where I'd be miserable.

Before I knew it, first block class was over. English wasn't my best class, knowing that my essays are atrocious. I'm stuck with the popular kids now: Lucas, Craig, Tim, and Blake. There were only four of them, but normally they sat near me when I was in that class, trying to mildly harass me by just looking at me every other second, knowing that just their presence created anger and frustration for me, which wasn't the best for a class that I failed at.

I sat in the back, corner, setting my guitar on the table that was behind me. I sat there, with a poker face, looking directly towards the board, the teacher being late once again. The guys started talking, looking at me before Lucas finally said something to me. He looked to me, with mocking eyes,"You gonna just sit there? Not gonna smile? Not gonna do anything?".

I knew that those statements wouldn't be insulting to anybody else, but with the relation that I have with these guys, it irritated me because I knew it was a means of intimidation. I got up to go to the bathroom, hearing one of the guys saying,"Oh, you've pissed him off now!"

I clenched my fist, walking out of the room. The teacher was coming my way, so I walked up to her,"I need to go to the bathroom."

My teacher gave me an odd look,"You're supposed to go before you come to class."

I nodded,"I know. It's just, I feel like I'm going to puke."

"Alright," she said, proceeding to the classroom.

I wasn't being totally dishonest, I did feel like I was going to puke, but I knew that was just my mind; knowing that if I puked I would be able to get out of school. I walked into the bathroom, but I just looked at myself in the mirror. I knew I had a chance at being popular, but I didn't want to try it. I was broad, somewhat tall, and my face wasn't half bad. I was in fact, better looking than most of the popular guys, if not, all. Maybe it was the clothes that I wore though, I always dressed preppy because my parents believed I should dress nice when I'm not in the house. I even get in trouble for walking around shirtless at my house.

I sighed, leaving the bathroom and going back to the classroom. I hesitated a little before entering, but I knew I had to. I let out another sigh and then entered.

I looked to my seat, and stopped dead in my tracks. My heart skipped a beat.

I felt like I was going to puke.

Adrenaline flowed throughout my body.

And my hands clenched so hard I felt like I was going to puncture my skin with my clipped nails.

I spoke loudly, deeply, and angrily,"What the HELL are you doing!?"

My irises widened as I gazed at a horrific sight. Scissors were aligned on the six delicate strings of my guitar, the four guys that sat near me looking cautiously at the guitar as the sound of the strings lashing through the air echoed with the snip of the scissors. With anger, I tackled Lucas, the guy that cut the strings. I pinned him down, and punched him a few times before I felt someone pull me off.

I looked at his face, his nose bleeding and his eye beginning to swell. He touched his finger to his face,"What the --."

I turned to look at Blake that looked at me with guilt, and a more sorrowful and apologetic expression.

I turned to look at Lucas now. His brows furrowed, and just when I let my guard down, he tackled me and pounded my face too many times to remember. I was knocked out cold, my senses dwindling fast as I passed out.

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems

Reviews

[Sharon]

Great story. I enjoyed reading it. I really like how you described the events in your story, especially when you said, "And my hands clenched so hard I felt like I was going to puncture my skin with my clipped nails." I think your writing is very interesting and has an unique style. Overall, Great job so far.

[Michael Norman]

Thank you so much for your feedback. I've been writing for a while, and most people tell me that my writing style is unique and appealing. I'm glad you like it so far! :)

[Sharon]

Your a great writer!!! Hope you wouldn't mind sending me read requests next time you publish something! :)