POV ISAAC
It was an ordinary Monday, except it wasn't. I'm not saying it was bad, then again I knew it was going to be one hell of a day when my Uncle James stormed into my tiny ass room, screaming in a drunken voice, "I'm leaving for work in five minutes, the bus will be here in an hour. Get your red headed ass dressed!" and slammed the door behind him. I was about to fall back asleep, then my alarm went off, blasting whatever was on the radio. I think is was some Justin Timberlake song from the early 2000's. I reached for my blue aviator glasses (because I'm trapped in the 80's even though it's 2010) and looked around my room. I sat up, shirtless with grey sweatpants on, and saw my uncles car drive away. I flipped him off and walked to the large by window in the back of my room. I opened the blinds, nearly blinding myself from the suns ultra violet rays, and headed to my dresser.
My room didn't have much, since I live in my aunt and uncle's trailer home, all it really had was a small bed, a few shelves, a small pine wood dresser with cracks in the draws, and a desk that belonged to my dad (may he and my mom rest in peace). Also fun fact about my aunt and uncle, they hate me. Which isn't shocking because I'm not a lovable person. I think it's because my uncle hated my mom (he had something against Scottish people) and since I look just like her, only I'm a dude, he's just like "Ayye fuck you!" I think that's why I cry myself to sleep every, fucking, night. I looked at myself in the small vanity mirror over my dresser and saw how much I looked like I woke up from a 90's rave.
"Damn," I said to myself. "Did I go out and drink last night?" My light ginger hair was tangled in knots, my dark blue eyes had large bags under them (because I had coffee before bed and couldn't sleep) my skin was covered in blackheads, along with my many, many, many freckles I'd collected over the years, and my body looked more weak than before. I opened one of the drawers in the dresser, pulled out a Canada flag shirt with khaki pants and grey socks, and got dressed. I couldn't find my comb, my uncle probably used it or some shit, so I had to leave the house with tangled hair. Before I left I looked at my old Dell computer and saw I had four e-mails. Yes, I said e-mails, my phone doesn't have decent e-mail servicing. I clicked on the e-mail inbox and saw that they were all from my friend Don, another fellow red head. He didn't have freckles, but he had the hair of a sheep. As in, he had dark red hair with large and small curls. He basically had hair like Baby from Dirty Dancing. The e-mails were like this:
Don: Yo Isaac, you got the notes for Algebra class?
Don: Isaac?
And the last one, my favorite:
Don: :Y
I couldn't leave Don in the water, so I responded:
Me: Don I have the notes, I'll give them to you before class starts.
Don: you have a copy machine?
Me: yeah?
Don: just copy the notes on the copier and give me the copies
Me: you don't want to write shit out huh?
Don: yep
Me: ufghhhhhhhhhhhhhh, fine :/
Don: thanks fellow ginger
Me: don't call me that please
Don: gtg, bus's here, bu bye!
Me: bye weirdo
Since Don lived four blocks from me, and the bus was slow as heck, I ran to the copy machine that was in the living room/my aunts work space, and copied the notes. Once I saw the bus at my house, I panicked since I didn't have my shit with me. I ran back into my bedroom, grabbed my shoes and backpack, and ran outside, only to see the bus take off down to the other streets. "FUCK," I blurted out, bad timing too because a woman took her kids out to their inflatable pool. I ran to the carport and hopped my green and white bike that was older than me, because I was born in 97 and this old bastard was brought into the family in 91 according to my aunt, and I sped off onto the road. It was still only five after seven, but since I lived far from the downtown area near my school the bike ride was longer than Rapunzel's hair.
I came to the main road where there's like five hundred cars speeding past the pedestrians and bike riders, along with a few old trucks running red lights, making crossing impossible. I stopped at the last red light, then I sped across the cross walk as fast as I could. A flashy white convertible nearly hit me when I was in the middle of the crosswalk. Once I crossed, I stopped on the sidewalk to see the asshole in the convertible flip me off. "FUCK YOU TOO, MOTHER FUCKER!" I called back, giving the ass behind the wheel both of my middle fingers. I looked at my watch, and seeing it was now seven forty five, I panicked and sped down the sidewalk, nearly hitting a few chipmunks and rabbits as I sped by.
Once I turned a corner near an older suburban area, my school was in plain sight. It wasn't an old school, but it wasn't a young school also. It had a flat tin roof, with white concrete on the bottom of the walls that went up by about five feet. The rest of the walls were red brick (with a few names carved in the brick, and a few graffiti markings) and the windows were huge. And by huge I mean bigger than my bedroom's window, which is taller than little ol' 5'9 me. I walked my bike to the bike park and locked the front tire on the metal bar. Then again, no one would want my old ass bike that has a few mud stains embedded in the metal and paint. I took a few deep breaths, and walked inside what I like to call, HELL, with all caps. Marceline and Jeff don't really call school HELL like I do. I mean, Jeff calls it a brick building full of bitches, and Marceline calls it society. And she's not wrong about that. Because at this school, we have more fuck boys and playboy bunnies than anything else. And we're in fucking eighth grade, EIGHTH! But hey, at least I've got my friends, and decent grades.
Also another thing, I'm the oldest in my grade, I'm fourteen about to be fifteen, while everyone else is thirteen going on fourteen, like Jeff and Marceline. Only thing is, Marceline looks sixteen because she's like 5'7 and dresses like a teenager from the late 90's early 2000's (as in, lots of printed t-shirts and sweatshirts, maybe even a few thermals that have just stripes on them). And Jeff looks like he's a nine-year-old trapped in an awkward and perverted thirteen-year-old. His room is coated in posters from video games and movies that would be rated R at this point. But I don't judge because I was forced to watch porn by Dons older brother as a dare. I'm not into that shit, so I was awkwardly sitting there like "Can, can I go now and drink bleach?" Then again, I see people full on getting it on in the hallways. And by that I mean, lots of shoving onto lockers, lots of loud smacking, and for some reason, guys going "Hell yeah!" My school's like a whore fest, then again I'm one of the only guys without a girlfriend or even a crush, mainly because I'm called an "ugly gay" in the hallways, I always respond with a simple, "I'm straight ya weenie!" And then I get socked in the face, yay. Now I'm not from Utah, see I was bred in Winchester Bay, Oregon. Marceline's from good ol' freezing cold and oddly empty Bozeman, Montana. ALSO she's Irish but has no accent because she was born in 'Murcia,and she doesn't have a Western accent for some reason?
I walked inside and saw Don running up to me for the notes. I simply handed him the folded sheets of paper from the copier and said, "I got that good shit." He gave me a weird look, then laughed saying, "Well thanks for the good shit man." I shrugged as we walked down the hallway. "So... is my gang here yet?" I asked, heading to Dons locker. He shook his head, "Dunno, but I don't think so. Also have you seen Lapiz Romano lately? Because puberty hit her like a fucking brick man!" I leaned against the locker next to Dons, "Lapiz? Isn't she the Romanian girl with the teal eyes and huge hair?" "No, the one that has a mole on her face and says "Heyyyy" like a gay dude. OF COURSE IT'S ROMANIAN LAPIZ SHE'S THE ONLY GIRL WITH THE NAME LAPIZ IN THE WHOLE DAMN SCHOOL YA DINGUS," Don said with satire in his tone. I rolled my eyes as I pushed up my glasses, "I know that I'm joking around." "Whatever, I need to head to the courtyard to finish some homework, see ya in Science class, ginger boy," Don said jokingly as he walked down the hall with his bag. I shrugged and followed him to the courtyard, which is really just a cement pavement with picnic tables from the 70's all around the area. I sat down across from Don and I took out my iPod that was one hundred years old (it's really like five but it looks older than five years because I dropped it in cereal one time) and I plugged it into my earbuds and began to sit back and enjoy the music.
That was when something caught my eye, I looked at Dons phone screen and it was seven twenty... WHAT. "Hey Don, is it really seven twenty?" I asked, tapping his left arm. Don nodded, "Duh, it's on my phone you dingus." along with him adding a cheeky smile on his face. I looked at my watch and saw it was way over time. "Don, you know how to set watches to times right?" I asked. He nodded, "Yeah, is your watch off?" "WAY off, "I said, handing him my watch, which looked more like a tiny alarm clock around my bony ass wrist. He looked at the time, reset the watch with a few taps on the bottom button, and handed it back saying, "Boom, have fun." I shrugged and put it back around my wrist. I looked at the faces at the tables, and a certain face caught my eye, was it really Lapiz or was I dreaming? She had the same tan skin, same thick black hair, same teal eyes, and same army green romper. "Hey, Don," I began, slapping him on the shoulder. "Is that... Lapiz Romano?" He nodded, "Yep, and I've heard that she's got the curves on an hour glass now." "I don't really care but... that's Lapiz? You sure?" I asked, doing a double-take. Don snickered, "You getting a boner man?" I slapped his shoulder, "No, NO, god no! I just, wow, she's uh, grown a few inches, and I never knew she had frizzy hair, it looks good on her." "Yep, she's hot huh?" Don added. I shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat man." Soon I saw Marceline walking to our table, then the odd day got odder when Holiday by Green Day blasted on my iPod. That was also when Grant and Thomas, two of the douche bags at our school, came up to Lapiz like she was some girl out of a movie. Then I saw Grant try to grab her ass, then his girlfriend Carson got pissed and started shit talking Grant. But does it stop NO, NO! Well, it did until first period... WOOPTIE DO.