Chapter Text
Surprisingly, I don’t really hate my school. The classes, I mean. I can zone out for a majority of them and still ace the tests, it’s no big deal. The teachers aren’t even that bad, they’re just… meh. No, you see, what I hate about my school is the people that I’m forced to go with. Other than my best buddy, Al, and some randos here and there that I’ve only seen in the hallways before, I detest everyone there with a burning passion, and for good reason. Don’t believe me? Let me list them out for you.
Anthony and ‘Flea’, the drug dealers. Always slightly homophobic to all the kids who don’t buy from them. Of course one of their names is Flea. There’s Kurt and Dave, who also come in a package deal, with how they smell rancid every time I pass them. Really. It’s disgusting. There’s Damon, who always seems to be scheming to ‘take me down’ whenever he has the chance. Not sure if he wants to be me or date me, but either way, I’m not having it.
Then there’s Tim and Zack, the ‘lovable’ himbos of the school. Seriously, they’d be the type of people to call Africa a country. There’s Pelle and Niklas, the super loud foreign exchange brothers from Sweden that were in my English class last year. I mean, congrats for learning a second language I guess? They’re just annoying. There’s Carlos, the classic snob, who always picks on this guy named Paul. I wanna talk to him, but he’s always too occupied with his ‘friend’ to be talked to. He obviously hates that goth just as much as I do. He just tolerates him, somehow.
There’s Courtney, who’s the class whore. She’s tried getting with me countless times, and I’ll be honest, I’ve been tempted, but her whole look screams too much of psycho bitch for me to actually seal the deal. Then there’s her ‘gang’, which consists of Kathleen, Gerard, and Brian, who I don’t know that well, but I hate them by association. There’s Chris, who seems normal on the outside, but he’s really just some kid who’s always high. You can tell by his red eyes and clothes reeking of skunk. He, Serj, and Daron, are all part of Anthony and Flea’s little drug cartel, and that’s why I also hate them .
The two Alex’s, Kapranos and Turner, seem so… high and mighty, and not in a good way. Not in the Carlos way, where it’s just pure narcissism, but more like… too much self confidence, just not mentally ill levels. Yet. I always see them hanging out under the main stairwell whenever the druggies aren’t there, and no, I’ve actually never seen them do anything shocking in there. Yet.
Lastly, there’s this one kid… oh my god , he’s a character, alright. He literally calls himself Jimmy Urine . Who the fuck names themself that?? His real last name is Euringer, but the former is a much better option, considering how much he stinks of it. I swear, he must shower in piss or something with how much he smells. His teeth are yellow, his hair is greasy, and his clothes are always torn in all the wrong places. I’m talking nipple tears on his shirts, and crotch tears on his pants. Not sure how no one’s dress coded him before, but the staff only care about women violating those stupid rules. Total freak, anyway, and not in the hot way.
So, yeah. That’s the whole shebang for you, and I won’t bother explaining it again, because my head’s starting to hurt. Apparently, on the first day of school, we’re only having a half day. Thank god . But that also means sitting in an auditorium that doubles as a microwave for 3 hours. How awesome… Oh yeah, and we have new principals, too. One main one, and one assistant, because the last one, Mr. Hawley, got caught up in some money making scandal that involved… you know what, I won’t even bother caring. Point is, the new principal that we get the ‘privilege’ to meet. How thrilling.
I shoot Al a quick text: “whos the new prcpl?”
“idk” he texts back immediately, and I close my flip phone.
Cool, a little mystery for us to solve. They probably sent us an email about it, but my family computer’s too slow for me to look at it now. I have about 5 minutes before I have to run to the bus, and Al and I (luckily) have the same route. I snatch a granola bar from the pantry and brush my hair at the same time, because I have my priorities in check. I then sling on my backpack and rush out the door before my parents can bother me with saying their goodbyes.
I turn on my walkman, which my dad gave to me. Trust me, if I could get an iPod, I would . Despite my begging, though, my parents are pretty tight on money, so here I am being an oldie. The walk isn’t that far, and I’m already there when I’m halfway into some random Prince song. Again, my dad’s choice, not mine.
The bus driver gives me a dopey grin, his hair clinging to his face and dyed with a weird red blotch. Thank god he’s only a bus driver, because I’m not risking being alone in a room with this guy. I walk past him to the empty rows of the bus. Great, I am alone with this guy. I can tell he wants to ask me a question, probably because (I’m assuming) he’s new here, but I just turn up my music louder, looking out the window, hoping he won’t get up or anything. I’ll leave the answering to someone who actually cares . If we’re late to school, that’s even better.
Al is two stops away, and I can’t wait to talk to him about literally anything. Maybe he’s got some new CD I could listen to, like the Ramones or something. God, that would be awesome . But I won’t get my hopes up.
Two other kids get on the bus, one black guy and some random lady I’ve vaguely seen before. She’s got to be a lot nicer than me, because she actually bothers talking to the driver. I don’t care what they’re talking about, but damn , is she pretty. Long black hair and eyeliner that could kill with how sharp it is. Her outfit’s pretty nice too; purple tank top and black jean shorts ripped at the edges. Her chipped black nail stands out to me as she points to the next stop, which is a couple blocks away from us. I hope we have a class together, at least. I need a new girlfriend, after a full summer without one. I’m still not desperate enough to date Courtney. That would be a new low.
The bus finally starts moving when I notice the other guy staring at me. Shit, do I recognize him too? I don’t think so. I take my earbuds out and shut off my music.
“D’you know where Mr. Murphy’s class is?”
His British accent is thick as hell, and I almost catch myself laughing. Thankfully I didn’t, because this kid actually seems nice. His dreads look well kept, and his teeth are white as fuck. Maybe it’s just because he’s so dark, but my point still stands. He points to the schedule in his hand with his lanky finger, but I already know who he’s talking about.
Mr. Murphy’s a cool teacher, but not really a cool guy . He’s very self-depreciating, sometimes in a charming way, but also in a geeky, cringey sort of way. He always talks about his age, and how he’s fifty-something, and how he’s not so ‘hip with the kids’ anymore or some bullshit. But he teaches decently, so I’ll give him a pass.
“Yeah, did you not go to orientation?”
He awkwardly laughs. “Well, eh, I was kinda embarrassed to go.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll show you around, then, new kid.”
I gesture for his schedule and he gives it to me. His hands are, like, super jittery. Maybe he should ask Chris for some weed to calm him down. I don’t tell him that, though. Even though I very much want to.
Looking at his schedule, I realize, shoot, we have, like, 3 classes together: english, math, and history. My eyebrows raise up.
“What?” God, he sounds nervous now, too. What an antsy guy.
The bus halts as the creep gets to the next stop, jolting me forward, making me slightly crumple the dude’s paper. I hope he doesn’t freak out about that , too.
“We just have a lotta classes together.”
“Oh, perfect!”
He smiles, and it almost blinds me. Okay, at least I know this guy takes care of himself. Better than half the people here already. Al’s gonna probably wanna talk to him more than me, so I’ll keep this conversation thing going for a couple more minutes.
Two more people stumble in the bus, and it’s none other than Tony ‘n Flea. They actually don’t look zooted out of their minds today, probably so they can gain the new Principal’s trust. That’s what they did with the last principal, or, let’s be honest here, Mr. Hawley was probably in on it, too.
“So what’s your name?” The guy regains my focus.
“Nick.”
“Nice… I’m Kelly.” Girl’s name? Cool, I guess… I think he’s asking for his schedule back with the hand he offers in front of me (after the two douches bust their way through), so I give him it back. Another awkward laugh. “Well, I would like a handshake, too.”
“Oh.” I shake his hand, and I can’t tell if it’s wet or dry, but it’s definitely cold.
“And It’s spelled K-e-l-e, if you’re wondering.” I’m keeping the girl spelling just this once, because I think it’s funnier, but whatever.
As our hands are still touching, the bus jumpstarts again, and he accidentally pulls me into the aisle, head-first.
“Shit, apologies.” He mutters, and I readjust myself.
“Sheesh, swearing on your first day? You better watch yourself, Kele…” I mention, voice slathered in sarcasm, hoping he can take a joke. I’m actually surprised a geek like him can cuss.
“Oh mate, you should’ve seen me in London.”
Shit, this kid actually seems pretty cool the longer we talk. I’ve gotten used to his accent, and I even want to know more about him. The hell happened in London, anyway?
Next thing I know, we’re at Al’s stop, and I give him a wave through the window. Of course the guy’s wearing a fancy-smancy suit to the first day of school. He could probably pass as a staff member if he forgot to shave for a few days. His hair is frizzy, since it’s 100 degrees or something outside. That just begs the question of why he’s wearing that suit in the first place.
I scoot further up to the window as Albert sits down next to me, holding something in his hands.
“Look what I found in the dollar bin.” He shows off his Velvet Underground CD, and then hands it to me. “Call it a first day gift.”
Oh fuck yeah. New friend and a new CD. Love the Velvet Underground, even if I would prefer the Ramones.
“Thanks, man!” I look over to Kele, who’s back at awkwardly staring at his schedule. He obviously wants to be in the conversation. “Yo, Kele, this is my buddy, Al.”
“Who’re you ?” Al smiles with his massive dimples, sounding damn near flirtatious.
“Didn’t you hear the bloke? It’s Kele. K-e-l-e.”
I think Al thinks he’s coming off as rude, because his face goes kind of sour. Kele goes in for another handshake, this time when the bus is fully in motion, and Al reciprocates.
“Well, Kele, I can hear your British accent. Where’re you from?” Like I thought, he’s much more of a smooth talker than me.
This sparks a load of joy in the guy, and he then goes off on this rant about his old life in London. I don’t remember much, but he mentioned that his parents were from Nigeria or something, which is kinda cool. I think he even said at one point that Kele wasn’t even his real name, but something like Roland. Al listens to every word, and man , I wish he could listen to me like that sometimes. This goes on until we’re at the front of the school, and I can’t wait to get out. Not because of the two chatters, but because of the random freshmen yelling some indistinguishable slurs at each other in the back of the bus.