Two Colored Eyes

Chapter 1: The Dreded Lunch Room

Ugh. How I hate Mondays. I said to myself as I tried to roll out of bed. I don't think it'll get any easier, no matter what mom says. I moan. Mondays are the worst day for pretty much everybody. Except for nerds who love school, or delusional grown-ups (like my mom) who just happen to "love" their job that they don't even call it a job, they call it a passion. Come on Destiny, you can't miss the bus for school for the billionth time this year. I somehow manage to get out of bed and change into my usual clothes; a pair of jeans (I don't understand why they call it a "pair"), a Spongebob t-shirt,  some galaxy Vans, and a beanie to top it off.  Oh crap! What time is it? I take a look over at the clock. 6:58. Shoot! The bus comes at 7! I grab some money from my dresser, my backpack by the door, and start sprinting. Being 14 and in jeans, I can run surprisingly fast. I barely made the bus though. You can only get lucky so much in one day. I thought. And boy, was I right.

    The first period I have is gym. I'm no Logan Tom (the famous volleyball player), but I'm not bad, I've got a mean serve. The only good thing about gym class is the fact that Camden is in my class. Camden. Just the name makes me want to sing. He's the best person in the school. Best looking, athletic, super nice, funny, popular... Never gonna happen. He doesn't even know you exist. Trying to ignore my thoughts, I get in the locker room and change. One of my two friends Jenny comes up and puts her books next to mine. "How goes it?" she asked.

    "Okay, I guess...." I trail off. The thing about Jenny is that she always knows when something's wrong with me. It's almost like we're telepathic

    "Camden, again? really? If you really like him that much you should at least try talking to him." She smirked at me, and then left. Jenny usually gives good advice, but you know, there are a few flaws in talking to you-know-who. The first of my troubles is that I'm extremely shy. I talk to myself a lot, and when I do talk out loud, it's only to Jenny or Eric. My second problem is that I'm extremely out of his league. He's the king of the jungle, and I'm warthog or antelope or something that tigers like to eat. Stop it. Stop thinking about him, come on, you better get out of here and onto the courts. And with that, I went with everyone else to gym.

    Today was not my day. I couldn't hit anything that came to me, and I couldn't even get one serve over the net. By the time gym was over, I headed to Spanish.  Spanish was one of my favorite classes because I barely had to pay attention and I barely got called on. This class also went by really fast, mainly because I was daydreaming about how we have Spanish class in Washington, so they must have English class in Columbia. I thought about this for the whole period until the bell rang and startled me a bit. Then I went off to English Language Arts.

    ELA I dread so much. Mainly because the teacher doesn't know how to teach and I get called on all the time because I sit right in the front for this class. "Daze, what's answer number 27?" Mr. Davis asked me the first two minutes of class.

    "Um... Where are we?" I said sheepishly. I can hear the faint laughter coming from the class.  I had already started a new daydream about who knows what, and now I look like an idiot in front of the class. Thank the lord above Eric sits right behind me.

    "I got your back, just say d" he whispered.

    "D?" I said, barely talking.

    "You should thank your friend behind you." Mr. Davis looked mad. "At least I know one person pays attention in this classroom. You know, I didn't even want to teach when I was younger because..." And then I tuned him out.  He talked about his teaching career for the rest of the period. One more reason to hate this class, the teacher hates my guts.

    There's not much to tell about Social Studies. The class is just awesome. Mr.McMichael is the youngest teacher in the school, but he's super nice and never gives any homework. This is one only class (besides band and lunch) that I didn't have the tendency to daydream because it always interests me. After that awesome class, I head to band. Band is also a favorite of mine because I love to play trumpet. Jenny plays clarinet, she's a first chair. Eric plays saxophone, and he's extremely good. I sit diagonally from Eric and all the way across the room from Jenny, with a bunch of random people in between. The period started on a terrible note, and ended on one too. The bad thing about or band as a whole is we can never stay quiet. It's easy for me, but not really for everyone else. Mr. Kelly  is really funny and nice, but he can get mean if we're not quiet. Another period done, I head to the lunch room with Eric and Jenny. Our conversation went something like this.

Jenny: All the band people are starting to get on my bad side. except you guys, but I mean really, nobody will shut their mouths.

Eric: Agreed. But the new music we have is hard. At least the saxophone part, anyway

Me: Camden, why do you have to be so perfect.

Jenny: How many high notes do you have?

Eric: At least 60

Me: Why can’t you just man up and talk to him?

Jenny: We don't have much. I think the trumpets need some work, what do you think, D?

(Eric and Jenny Look at me)

Me: Um.... you know......

Eric: Daydreaming?

Me: No, just a little lost in thought. Meet you guys at lunch. (sprinted away)

    I went over to my locker, got my books, grabbed my money, and headed to lunch. By the time I got there, the room was in an uproar. People were talking  left and right. As soon as I sit down, I hear someone yell "FOOD FIGHT!" and everyone starts throwing food everywhere.

    "Jenny, D, duck!" Eric screamed at the top of his lungs. Then he took my tray, filled with food, dumped the food on the table , and used it as a head shield. I scowl at him, because I paid twenty dollars for that prison food, and he just decides to dump it on the grimy cafeteria table. I hide under the table like everyone else who didn't want to get pelted with food until it seemed to stop. But I was wrong. I came up too early. I saw a knife coming at my eye. I didn't look away, I just let it stab my eye, and the surging pain started to grow as I just processed that there was a piece of silverware that was lodged in my right eye. Blood started to go everywhere as I started to scream. Then, the room went black.