sweater weather ↠ markle

one ↠ the cold

Maya's P.O.V

My old, junky truck rattled as I pulled into the high school's parking lot. It was crowded, overflowing with pre-pubescent teens and overly hairy men that most refer to as "seniors". I had to keep a careful eye on everything all the time so I didn't hit someone— not like I didn't want to, though. Most of the black top that wasn't covered by teenagers was covered in snow, but that didn't fool anyone. The snow may be thick, piled on by the hours of snow fall from the night before, but it didn't fill in the pot holes.

I pulled into the first empty slot I saw, slamming the stick shift into first gear. I hit the brake, and almost instantly, I heard the engine growl to a silence. "Great..." I wanted to mess with it, but I knew class would be starting soon— if they caught me skipping again, my mom would flip. It would start again, but for who knows how long after that.

I let out an exasperated sigh, grabbing my bag and hopping out. I slammed the door, the loose metal clanking together in a loud, obnoxious orchestra. "Stupid piece of shit."

Inevitably, I felt the piercing cold of New York's winter envelope my shoulders within seconds, sending a shock through my body. My teeth chattered behind my lips and my hands went to rub my sweater-clothed arms, but as I felt the cool touch of my skin, I glanced down. Holes. Great. It's not like I was surprised— most of my sweaters had holes in them, worn and torn from the many years of use, but I usually covered them up. I had completely forgot to this morning.

Wow, today just couldn't get better, could it.

"Fuck it." I gave up. I really couldn't care at this point, I was ready to go in and get the day over with. When I made it inside, I heard a few people say hi, to which I only grumbled in response. Others, I saw whispering.

"Isn't that Maya Hart? Oh my gosh... what is she wearing?"

They could never keep to themselves, could they? Everyone had to gossip one way or another.

I ignored their stares and whispers, parting through the crowded hallways and forcing my way to my locker. I twisted in the combination, but as I went to pull it open, a wave of silence washed over the hall. I didn't have to look over to know what it was.

This happened everyday— the "big three" would walk in, the halls would go silent, whispers would ensue, they would pass as if nothing was happening, then it'd be over. Still, I felt myself glancing over.

The Big Three, aka, the most "popular" guys in school. They were the kings of John Adams High, every girl bending to their whim, every guy trying to get on their good side.

There was the main man, Lucas Friar. He's the star quarterback, the guy that young boys would some day look up to. Though, be warned, he has the strength of a horse. That, mixed with his intense anger issues, was a recipe for temporary disaster.

Then there was Isaiah "Zay" Babineaux. He was the ladies man of the school, a true player. But don't get me wrong— he was as kind as kind could be. Him and Lucas moved here from Texas in their Freshman year. They had that southern charm to them, and damn, the girls just ate that shit up.

Then, we come to Farkle Minkus. No, I'm not kidding, that really is his name. Despite his extremely abnormal name, the girls fell all over him. He was the greatest soccer player this school had seen in over twenty years, and he had an IQ equal to that of a modern-day Einstein. Though, he was different— he was the shy one of the Big Three. He rarely ever jumped into a conversation unless it had to do with the Pythagorean theorem or something else that happened to catch his attention. He didn't flaunt his intelligence either— I'd gone to school with this kid since the third grade, and compared to back then when everyone actually thought he was a clone or robot, he is more than adequate with keeping his wit to himself.

It seemed like hours before they passed and things went back to normal, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Soon, the hallway filled with noise— laughter and shouts erupted from different corners, snapping me back to reality. I shook my head, swinging open my locker and snatching my books, slamming the locker shut once more and pushing my way through the hallway. I just wanted to get to class, away from everyone and everything. 

Physics wasn't my favorite class in the world, but at least Mrs. Monroe gave me a break every once in a while when I needed it. I teetered into the room, Mrs. Monroe's bright red sweater nearly making me trip over the front desks when I caught sight of it. God, that woman needed style help, badly.

I ignored her hello, dashing to my seat near the back. I was the first one in, but others were sure to file in soon. I dumped my backpack on the floor, and almost as if on cue, two girls glide in, followed by another mob. The bell was going to ring soon.

I kept my head down, not ready to deal with anyone's bullshit this early in the morning. Soon enough, the majority of the students were in their seats, chatting to their peers and whispering of the latest gossip.

The bell rung, signalling the start of class. I could hear Mrs. Monroe's heels clicking against the tile as she trotted over to the door to shut and lock it, but another pair of shoes interrupted it. 

"You're late, Mr. Minkus."

I heard almost every girl in class slam their lips together, not daring to make a sound. "Sorry, Mrs. Monroe. Won't happen again, I promise." I heard the familiar sound of squeaking sneakers move down the isles, turning into my own and making their way past me.

Shit. 

The only available seat in the entire class was right behind me. Great. My hands insecurely went to cover the obvious holes in my sweater, trying to make sure nobody talked about the fact I was wearing holy clothes—rumours started fairly easily around these parts. I heard the boy plop down in the seat, making no advancement towards anyone else but his backpack. 

"Well then, students. Just sit and wait quietly for the morning announc—"

"Gooooooood morning Eagles! I hope you had a wonderful morning and an amazing breakfast. I have only a few announcements for you this morning, so bear with me. First, I'd like to address the school's policy on leggings, seeing as winter has..."

I zoned out within the first sentence of the announcements, grabbing my notebook from my bag and pulling it onto my desk. It was filled with my dazed mid-class doodles and late night sketches. I never bring my sketch book to school anymore— not after the coffee spill of 9th grade.

My hand was moving the pen delicately across the page when I heard something that caught my attention.

"...chess match this Tuesday! Well, I think that's all— Oh! wait. Sorry kiddos, but it seems the seals of a few of the windows in the school have frozen over and cracked, letting in the cold from outside. We're blasting the heat, but most is slipping through the cracks. It'll take until next Thursday until we can get it fixed, so until then, our policy on covers and oversize jackets has been temporarily revoked. Pile up and keep warm! Keep soarin', Eagles, Principal Matthews is out!"

Fucking great.

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so that was the first chapter of sweater weather! i know it's a bit slow and probably not what you guys wanted for a first chapter, but i'm kind of proud of myself! if you lovelies liked it then please leave a vote or comment some feedback!

DON'T BE A SILENT READER <3 (me: is casually the most silent reader but pshhhh don't mind me)

hope you all hold on until the next chapter! it's already in the works <3

- dani <3