Mark is an English teacher stuck in a dead end job he hates; new boy Tom DeLonge starts, causing trouble and getting into fights, the year suddenly starts to become a whole lot more interesting.
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Mark POV
I was just sat and watching the hands move around the clock. My head was comfortably lulled back against the head-rest and my arms neatly folded across my chest. The morning had been quiet, the students not really bothering me all that much, just getting on with the work like they were told. Maybe teaching wasn't too bad after all.
There was a sudden knock at the door, I jumped slightly before chuckling to myself and calling a 'come in' to whomever was at the door. The head-teacher waltzed in, a rather tall boy being dragged behind her, he had Dickies' shorts on just falling below his knees, socks pulled up to his calves, beat up checked vans and a Hurley shirt on, how very punk-rock I mused to myself. I gazed up to his face seeing a lip ring and an eyebrow bar, he'd gone all out on the look.
'What do I owe the pleasure?' I asked standing up, coming out of my daze to greet the visitors.
'This is Thomas DeLonge, he's just moved here from San Diego. Can you please show him the ropes?' The head-teacher said as 'Thomas' looked bored to death.
'It's Tom' was all the mysterious boy said before throwing his bag under a desk and sitting on the nearest chair. I scoffed, he reminded me of myself in my younger years, if a little more arrogant.
'Err yeah, sure I'll be happy to show Mr DeLonge around' I smiled a quick fake smile at the head-teacher as she nodded her head and left the room. I turned around to be met with Tom stood eyeing me up.
'So you moved from San Diego, huh? I grew up there.' I took a seat at my desk, engaging in conversation was the best way to assert dominance and I needed to show the new kid who was boss.
'Yeah, better than this shit-hole though.' He laughed and looked up at me past his heavy fringe of hair. They're always the same, these new kids, joining the school thinking they're owed something.
'Yeah well, you're stuck here now' I flashed him a quick smile before standing up and making my way to the door.
'Do you have your time-table, Thomas?' I asked, purposely using his full name to aggravate him.
'It's Tom. You mean this?' He asked as I turned around to see him holding up a crumpled up piece of paper with ink spilled all over it. I sighed to myself; he wasn't going down without a fight.
'Yeah that's the one.' I smiled at him pretending it wasn't completely torn up and ruined. He stood up and started to follow me out the door. I heard his feet dragged across the carpet and his sighing with every step.
'Why'd you move?' I asked, it was awkward just walking along without a conversation between us.
'That's none of your business.' He walked faster than me down the corridor. Why did he have to be so difficult?
'Okay, that's fine. What do you do in your spare time?' I asked pointing up the stairs and showing him to the mathematics corridor. He scoffed and rolled his eyes the small talk obviously not hitting the spot.
'I play guitar. I was in a band but after I had to move here we all broke up.' I suddenly became interested, what kind of bands did he like, did he play punk or pop or what?
'Oh that's cool, what're you into?' I felt like I had found a way to connect with the boy, something we could talk about so he didn't act like there was a stick up his ass all the time.
'Um. I don't man, punk stuff I guess, you know, Jimmy Eat World, The Descendants, NoFX, Misfits..' He trailed off slightly, getting a bit carried away as he rattled off the bands. I smiled a genuine smile.
'Hey, they're all great bands, I listen to them myself.' If looks could kill, I could tell he didn't believe me, I mean I'm a middle aged man trying to relate to a teenage boy. I really didn't look like I lived a punk like, the slacks and blazer really doesn't scream a rebellious life-style, but real punk is punk on the inside.
'No really, I've seen Descendants play a couple times actually.' I smirked down at his shocked face. Now we're making progress.
'Really? Who'd you go with your boyfriend?' He spat at me. Maybe not so much progress.
'No, I went with my band mates; I'm in band as well.' I shut down the idea of being gay, I mean it's not as if I wasn't attracted to men, but this isn't the time or place to be shouting about sexuality.
'And what do you play? Play with your boyfriends dick.' He laughed and pulled at the zipper on his hoodie. Here we go again.
'No I play bass guitar. Started playing when I was fifteen.' I looked down at him and saw a glint in his eyes.
'Oh that's kinda cool I guess. You still sound like a gay boy though.' What's with this kid and sexuality?
'Right. Well I guess we'd better carry on with this tour.' I nudged him along the corridor and down the stairs off to the science block.
'And no, you don't get to blow stuff up' I said pushing open a door to a classroom and creeping inside.
'That's not the only kind of blowing you'll be doing.' He smirked at me and I found myself laughing at the kid. Sure, he was a complete ass-hole but it made this place a little more exciting.
'Again with the sexuality Thomas, is there something you're hiding?' I joked as I turned around to see the boy looking down at his feet blushing. Did I say something wrong?
'No.' He gritted his teeth and looked up past me to the ceiling.
'Well then you'd better be off to your lesson, I'm sure you can make sense of your time-table. Come back and see me at lunch time and we'll sort all your books and stationary.' I stumbled over my words, trying to finish off my sentences so I could get away from the odd situation.
'Thanks Mr..?' He questioned looking back at me like nothing had ever happened.
'Mr Hoppus.'
This was certainly going to be an interesting year.
