Redemption [Larvis]

☆°Part Three°☆

In the perspective of:
...TRAVIS PHELPS...

I went to class a bit early. Despite how much I hated Maths and Mrs. Packerton, it was better to be in here then outside sitting alone while everyone else was talking amongst themselves.

I was fully aware of the fact that Sal and Larry were looking at me earlier, even more reason to get out of there and in here. But it was kind of annoying. Usually I'd confront them, punch Sal again or do something shitty that I'd regret soon afterwards. But ever since I had that talk with Sal in the bathroom, I didn't want to provoke him too much. He said it was cool with him if I ever decided I wanted to be his friend, or hang with him to get away from my dad.

I didn't know if that offer still stood, but I didn't want to be the reason that it didn't. Sal was kind. And I was obviously not. Maybe in another life, we could be friends. Maybe I could have been friends with all of his little gay gang. In a world where my father wasn't so stuck up about keeping my "purity" and I didn't feel so pressured to meet his expectations.

The thought of him wore me out. He was still incredibly upset at me. I've been steering clearer from him then ever. I rested my head against my arms, laying on the desk.

The bell rang 10 minutes later, and within seconds other kids started pouring in the classroom. Sal was one of them. His blue hair swaying left and right as he walked in, squeezing through the others. His prosthetic emotionless unlike his entire personality.

He stole a glance at me before taking his seat two rows behind mine on the left. I huffed and looked away, not wanting to look at his eyes through the his masks eye holes. The teacher shoved past the last group of kids, holding a yellow cardboard folder that seemed to be overflowing with papers.

Just my luck. I thought, remembering that today was Monday, and that on each Monday we had a pop quiz. She stood at her desk, frowning at me.

"Travis, I'm sure we all wouldn't mind another hour or two for a nap, but do not take time out of my class to do it, alright?"

I sighed, reluctantly lifting my head off of the desk and sitting up. She nodded in my direction before beginning role call.

"Allen Baker?" Backstabber "Here!"
"Aaron Cooper?" Dickwad "Presenttt"
"James Dickson?" Prick "Here ma'am!"
"Salvatore Fisher?" He's... Ok "Here miss."
"Hannah Francis?" Oh, she's actually nice "Hi miss."
"Tara Mellow?" Who the fuck is that? "Here."
"Travis Phelps?" Ew "..Here."

I blocked out the rest of her words, not saying anything as she placed the pop quiz infront of me. The questions looked similar to the ones from the previous test. A bunch of letters, numbers, squared numerals. Stuff I couldn't be bothered to try understand earlier and can't be bothered to try and understand now.

°~•.-------------------------------.•~°
In the perspective of:
...SAL FISHER...

I quickly scanned through the pop quiz. I understood pretty much everything in it. It only took me a couple of minutes to finish it, making sure to backtrack and check that I put the unit of measurement on the answers that needed it. Then I could daydream. Or doodle.

I chose the latter.

Scribbling out a bunch of silly faces, a stick man with a top hat surfing next to what was supposed to look like a dolphin, but looked more like a fish mutated duck. My art skills weren't nearly as good as Ash and Larrys, but they've convinced me that I don't have to be good.

I took a break from doodling so that my wrist wouldn't ache later. Letting my gaze settle on the back of Travis's head.

Wait, what?