sparks

1 - the beginning

George

The sweet countryside blows past my eyes as my father speeds down bumpy back roads in his sleek, black Lexus rx 350. I want to be excited, but the feeling of nervousness is dragging me down under.

Its November, and this terms already halfway through. Meaning everyone already has mates, formed groups, gotten to know their teachers. Everyone apart from me.

"You should never be afraid to fight back, George, some people just deserve a good punch-"

The clouds overhead are growing more murky looking, intimidatingly threatening us with rain that looks like it won't stop for hours.

"-I still don't get why you and your mother thought this was a good idea, but whatever floats your bo-"

As the minutes drag on, I catch myself peering out and around the front windshield, trying to spot anything that could tell me that we're close.

"-All boys will be better for you too, I'm glad your mother and I could at least settle on that, you dont need any girls distracting you fro-"

My fingers feel fidgety, my foot beginning to tap impatiently. We cant be far now, can we?

"-Do you think they'll have a good selection of sports for you? Now that you'll be grounded for a while, you should try pick up a spor-"

"Are we close?"

My father stops his rambling at my sudden snap of annoyance, his head turning to glance at me for barely half of a second before his eyes twist back to the road.

He doesn't answer my question though, he just sits back in his chair, more relaxed now, as if my words have calmed him down.

I knot my fingers around eachother in an attempt to settle myself down, pulling back each of my fingers until I hear my knuckles crack.

"Stop that" Father says.

I stop, but my foot continues to bounce.

"Stop that too" he adds.

I stop.

"Are we close?" I repeat.

But an incoming call on his dashboard robs me of an answer of that question, the car now vibrating with the noise of my fathers ringtone.

He looks at me, pressing a finger to his lips as to signify for me to be quiet before he accepts the call.

"John! My man, how are you" he beams in a loud, proud voice, very different to the pissy tone he'd been using with me just seconds before.

After spending years sat in hotel rooms, penthouses and even car rides just like this, I find it easy to tune out my Fathers fake charade voice by now.

And each time I have to tune him out, I resort back into my head, letting my mind run free with whatever it can come up with.

Right now? Its stuck thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong within the next twenty four hours, and trust me, theres a very long list.

My main worries are my roomate, the people, and navigating my way around the huge building Mother and I had studied on the website. I dont think ive ever seen such a beautiful, yet confusing building.

The people aren't as big of a worry as my roomate.

Ive never needed to get along with people. Ive never had a long term friend group, or any long term friends, for that matter.

But then again, im quite alright with that. So ill be just fine with sinking into the backround and getting on with my day. My roomate though? Thats a different sort of story.