Lunch, I swear is the time when all animals are called in for mating at the water hole, as I walked to my locker, five minutes after the high-school rush to the cafeteria, everyone apart from a selected few are remaining in the hallways however, I swear, if I see one more couple, pressed up against a wall and showing all signs of PDA, with their tongues down each others throats, I will actually chunder. That's the problem with high school, too many teenagers, too many hormones, all in one public place, As I walk into the dangerous mating zone of the lions, aka the cafeteria, I sneak past 'their' gaze as they're all pressed up against their latest victims, mostly cheerleaders as they're supposedly 'easy to get with' meaning, large boobs but no IQ, throwing their hormones at each other like a dung beetle does to his prize patch of dung, not caring who saw.
I rolled my eyes, not understanding if they got the whole concept of 'no PDA' in school. I grabbed my lunch, heading for the door, trying to get free from everyone, everything, retreating to my cocoon of music and fresh air, under my tree; an old oak in a very secluded part of the school campus where no one goes, no one sees and no one knows. However, I couldn't seem to get away fast enough as suddenly I was falling to the floor, my food completely deserting me as it flew across the floor to the side of a table, my pasta flying across the cafeteria hitting some poor girl in the face, bastard, how dare my food desert me at a time of need? Yea sure, the girl that received my delicious looking lunch wasn't too happy to now have the presence of my food plastered all over her, probably new designer top, however, my food was my knight and I need its help in battle against the fierce dragon of Montgomery High, known as Trent. The hot steaming mess of a dragon. I know what you're thinking, is he going to be the cliché captain of the football team or the badass biker guy with loads of tattoos ? Well to be honest, he's neither. He's Trent Harris, The captain of the football team, the smartest guy in our school, the head of the school council, the guy that is friends with everyone; except me of course, and the most gorgeous boy that I have ever laid eyes on, basically he's just perfect.
I looked up, trying to catch just a glimpse of the fierce dragon, bravely making eye contact with the most breath-taking green-emerald eyes that belonged to none other than Trent, shivering slightly, not because of the cold but purely because his gaze had that effect on many of us; admittedly, mostly girls... but hey, I'm gay. Looking straight back down, submitting to him, I avoided his deathly gaze which seemingly stared straight into my soul. He laughed, the sound radiating into my ears, oh shit, his laugh was honestly the most amazing sound in the world. It honestly sounded like angels singing; alright shh, I'm sorry that I'm having a fan girl moment okay? He's literally perfect. He kicked my bag, I heard a slight cracking sound, hoping for the best but knowing that there, in my bag, lay a poor victimised camera, my poor baby. This is a regular occurrence you see; no matter how hot he is, or how nice he is to other people, he seems to like making my life a living hell, everyday, every hour, every minute. Now, I don't know if it's purely due to me being small, skinny, or if it's because he secretly can read minds and knows that I'm gay but to be honest, this is the only way I can see this beautiful boy, making him notice me; its sad really, I know, but It's either this or nothing.
He walked away, allowing me to let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding, retreating back to his so called friends, or bunch of idiots as I like to refer to them as. I lay there, immobilised, counting to twenty before I stood up, brushing myself off, gathered my things, not even checking to see if my camera was broken and retreated to the empty storage cupboard to willow in my self sorrow, not looking back at all of the people who laughed; mocking me. I sound like such a geek, sorry, however, I think that you should know this now; I'm not smart, nor musically gifted, or a sporting phenomenon. I'm no budding artist waiting to be discovered and sent off to Paris to paint a portrait of the Eiffel tower. No, instead I'm the guy who is constantly on my computer, phone, anything with internet, writing stories, exploring virtual worlds, being someone I'm not, because being me is honestly the worst thing anyone could possibly be.
Time went by, I'm not sure how long to be exact, but all I know is that I've probably missed my last two periods. As the bell rung, signalling the end of the day, bursting my eardrums, yet again, I sat there, waiting to hear all of the footsteps pass this room by, no one checking to see if anyone is in it, everyone going to their cars, seeing their friends, girlfriends, heading home to a normal, happy, loving family. It's funny how no one notices me; no one bothers to check if I'm in the lesson. No one worries. There's no search party. I decided it was about time to head home, my dad would kill me otherwise if I was later than I already way. And I literally mean he would kill me.
I walked out of the storage cupboard, out of the school gates, along the sidewalk heading home to my drunk father who waits for me with open arms. Engulfing myself in my music, I ignored everything around me, allowing myself to be put into a trance, giving myself a time to think before all hell breaks loose.
I stood in front of my door, hesitating before grasping the handle, opening my door and walking in, keeping my head low; not making a sound. Maybe he isn't at home, maybe he's at the bar. I hoped for the latter, that he was at the bar, that he was out. I crept upstairs to my room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind me. You see, after school, this usually doesn't happen, I usually get hit, chairs thrown at me from every angle, bear bottles smashing against walls, doors, and then, when he's finally done, tired from all of the chaos he's created, a father whom I need to drag upstairs into his bed, passed out and a whole load of tidying up which awaits me. No one knows about my dad, everyone thinks he's a lovely man. Which deep down he is, but that's lost by all of the sadness which has captured him. You see, when my mum died, he's never been the same, so I don't blame him for his actions. The poor man lost the love of his life, the perfect woman, I mean, I too would be upset.
I sighed, just thinking of my mother brought back so many good memories, memories that I need to forget to survive. I threw my bag onto my bed, watching it bounce slightly, making sure that it didn't fall onto the floor and sat in my desk chair, swirling around to face my computer screen which I quickly turned on. Time to relax and get all of my emotions out. I checked my emails, receiving none apart from advertisements, great, I'm so popular the amount of friends I have is unreal... Whilst scrolling down my spam emails I stumbled upon one, Wilboo.com. The email read as followed:
' Hi there!
Would you like to find your perfect match? Wilboo.com is an online virtual chat room service for singles around America! Don't feel lonely anymore, find your perfect match here! Join thousands of singles like you today!'
Me, being the saddest of people clicked the link which re-directed me to the online dating website. In the search bar, I searched my high school, Montgomery High and that came up with fifteen people from my school, one of which being... wait... Trent?! Trent Harries has an online dating profile. I clicked, waiting to see his profile full of women in their mind thirty's chatting him up, but as I looked, I saw a simple profile.
' Name: Trent Harries
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Looking for: A girl with a nice personality who understands me and whom doesn't care about what other people think'
I scrolled down further, trying to see what people sent. Nothing, the rest of his page was empty. Had no one found him on this website yet? I'm sure if people had he would have all of the female population of our school messaging him. I sat there, just staring at his profile, thinking. Should I make an account and talk to him? wait he would know it was me and then bully me even more... What if I framed as a girl? Faked an account. Started messaging him. He wouldn't know it was me? would he?
I clicked on the 'sign up' button, made an account under the name Sophie Johnson, aged 18 and put up a picture of my mom when she was younger. My mom was beautiful, even as she was dying, she had amazing eyes, they were mesmerising. I sat back, taking a deep breath as I logged on and found Trent's profile yet again; seeing the green circle appear signalling him being online at this current point in time. I hesitated, my mouse hovering over the message button; clicking it and typing 'hey' before I even could register what I was doing. It sent. The message was no longer in my hands and I had started something that I couldn't delete. .
