I've always had a feeling that I would die young. Ever since I started pondering on deaths door I've had this feeling. I could care less about the hell and heaven shenanigans, but death. I want it. The end of my life.
I want to be in my suit, in my...
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"And then, I kissed her." I tell my friends as I shut my locker. It's my first week back at school and everything is, well, normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. The uniform is still uncomfortable and the halls are still way too full.
Nobody noticed that I was gone for two months except for my friends of course. They have been collecting all the work we've done over the last few weeks for me so I'm able to easily catch up. Luke even wrote some extra notes for me so I don't fail our finals. He's a real one for that. "You just got back... how the fuck?" Diego asks as he grabs his Spanish textbook.
I shrug a single shoulder. "She tasted like cinnamon and pink powder, it was so rad." Dylan groans, throwing his head back. "See, this punk ass hoe is saying rad again. I'm going to kill myself." I roll my eyes at him. I always purposely say the word "rad" in front of Dylan as it makes him visibly mad.
The word was removed out of my vocabulary for years until he mentioned it at the last dinner party. It's back in business, baby! "You've been drinking a lot of those lately." Dylan says as he eyes the ice cold RedBull can in my hand. "You should try Monster instead." Luke suggests and I throw him a disgusted look. "No way, Monster is for gay boys and drug addicts."
Everyone stares at me in silence for a minute. "So you?" Dylan asks and I roll my eyes. These people just don't understand me. "What do you have now?" Dre asks Luke, leaning his head against the cold metal of the locker and shutting his eyes.
I look at the palm of my hand where I wrote all my classes for today. "I got French with Noah." Dammit! I hate French class especially with Luke. For some reason he's really good at the class which makes me look like an idiot whenever the teacher asks me a question. "I have math." Atlas replies just when the first bell rings. We begin walking towards our classes, but continue speaking.
"In the morning?" I ask, my face scrunching up. "Unfortunately." He sighs, walking into his class and the rest of us continue walking.
Heading a few yards down the hall, I hold open the door, following Luke inside, and scanning the classroom for our seat. In the corner, at the rear and near the windows, two empty desk sit surrounded by students.
I slide into the seat, the legs of the desk skidding across the floor as I drop my bag to the ground. "Ugh," Luke groans beside me. "I hate this class." He pulls his laptop out as the classroom fills, chatter and laughter pouring in as Mr. Travert stands, hovering over his desk and going through his notes.
It doesn't take long for the second bell to ring and for the class to begin. "Bonjour classe. Accueillir! Comment vas-tu?" The teacher begins to say and I'm immediately lost. I'm not sure how I made it to senior year.
Mr. Travert smiles at everyone, but his face drops when his eyes land on me. "M. Duarte, vous savez que cette école a une politique stricte concernant les boissons énergisantes, jetez-les." He tells me in a calm voice and I just stare at him since I don't know what he's saying.
