The Prison Project [-Editing-]

02: Trey

Picture of Trey to the right :) -->

02: Trey

            I both love and hate school. Ever since I was little, I’ve been a quiet kid. I tend to stay by myself most of the time, aside from time with Linley. I was blessed with the mind of a nerd, making me good in all subjects. I’m also on student council, as male representative for eleventh grade. I honestly don’t really know how I got that position. Student council is usually made up of the really nerdy kids and the super popular ones. I may be a nerd, but I’m a virtually invisible nerd; I don’t tend to show it. I’m just the quiet kid that sits at the back of the class, never participates, and somehow gets 100s on everything.

            That’s why I like school: it’s easy. But I also don’t like it because I have to deal with teenagers, which is not exactly my favorite pastime. Even being in the same room with other adolescents irritates the life out of me. That’s why student council can be annoying as well. Oh well, though. I suppose it’s better than being a mediocre student.

            It’s a Thursday. I’ve been up since 3 this morning. I hardly slept at all, come to think of it. It wasn’t too bad though. Boone kept me company. And I’m honestly not all that tired. I glance over at the clock and take note of the time: 6:15. I decide to just get up. I have to leave in a half hour anyways. I stand, grab some clothes, and make my way to the shower. I pass Linley in the hall, already dressed.

“You’re up already?” I ask, a bit shocked.

“Obviously,” she replies, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes and continue on into the bathroom. I take one last glimpse at Linley before disappearing inside. She’s wearing worn, boot cut jeans with large, gaping holes in the knees, a tight-fit Green Day t-shirt, and her long blonde hair hangs loosely around her shoulders underneath her usual camouflage army cap. She’s been wearing that cap every single day for the past eight years. It used to be her mom’s. She took it for herself the day she died, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it.

I shower quickly and then go downstairs to eat breakfast. Linley is already sitting at the counter, munching quietly on an apple.

“Why were you up so early?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I reply.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just couldn’t.”

“Weird.”

“Yep.”

She takes another bite, stands, and starts walking towards the stairs, stuffing her headphones into her ears in the process. As usual, I can hear Green Day leaking out of them. If you haven’t figured it out by now, Linley’s favorite band is Green Day. It’s actually kind of an obsession. But I can understand why. They were her parents’ favorite band too.

I grab a banana, sit at the counter, and eat my breakfast in silence.

“Trey!”

I jerk and look to the stairs, where Linley is standing with her backpack slung over her shoulder, her drumsticks sticking out of the pocket. Oh, that’s another thing about Linley: she’s a very talented drummer. She spends most afternoons in her room, playing whatever song she wants to learn and conquering it. I swear she learns a new one every day.

“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes,” she laughs. “It’s time to go.”

“Oh, geez! I’ll be out in a second.”