Street Youth Rising ~Septiplier~

Music Class and Backbone.

--Jack--

The sun barely peeks over the horizon as I arrive at the school. It's seven thirty now as I reach the front gate and snatch my skateboard off the ground. Cool air nips at my neck and face making me shiver slightly. I slightly wished for a scarf to cover myself. I also begin to wish for a hat to cover up my messy green hair (which I forgot to run a brush through this morning) even if it made me look slightly tough.

The kids aren't really even arriving yet. Only a few of the most punctual sit on the front lawn. Mindless clones who are always up for an extra book assignment. Who are all about prayer groups ( not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not my thing and it never has been), which is a bit much for my liking. I will never bash those who believe, but I often wonder.

By this point in life, I wonder if there actually is a God. If there is, then why is everyone hurting and suffering so much? Why do people have such terrible depression? Why do people deal with mental illnesses? Why do people commit suicide? If there is a God, why is there so much hurt? At least, that's how I look at it.

Even if I'm not one for the prayer groups and the Christian tunes they sing together, I have to admit that they're  all really nice.

Natalie is one girl who helped me carry my books when I was on crutches with a broke leg. Jordan is one of the guys who stood up for me when Kellin and Mike tried to publicly humiliate me in front of the whole school (that's a long story I don't want to go in to), and we still have small talk sometimes to this day. Natasha tutored me in math since I didn't understand the material ( I didn't really pay attention, because I didn't care about my education as much as I made out; I pretend because I am a "good child") and I was really thankful for it.

However, that was a good minute ago. That was a good while back when my whole life was just turning to shit.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I decided to go ahead and run up the steps into the school, getting to my locker before anyone else could get to me. I didn't want to mess with anyone and I hoped no one would do the same. I wasn't in the mood to run into anyone and after Thomas confronted me at the cafe, I felt a lot smaller than I normally did. Usually, I was ready to conquer the world, but now, I was walking on eggshells.

I stared at the tiled floors, my black shoes padding the small colors of green and red. I wondered about Mark as I sipped on the Mocha coffee in my hand.

Thomas' voice still rang in my head. Mark's brother was slightly intimidating, yes, but it seemed as though he wouldn't hurt a fly. I wasn't really willing to come in between Mark and his family, but it wasn't up to Thomas how Mark spent his time (wether his time be spent running from bullies and cops all across the little town of Athlone with me, or on his couch with his family and a TV) so he should leave it alone. Maybe it's the overprotective brother thing?

I pulled out the little yellow sticky note with my mothers writing on it, remembering the number and combination. Locker 428. Combination 6-9-22. I bolted down the halls and past the rows of blue. No one in sight, I threw down my skateboard and jumped, riding it clear down the hall. I was surprised no teachers came after me.

I got to my locker very quickly and grabbed out my private journal, my music book for first period, and the books I needed for the next three periods after that. I stuffed my skateboard inside the bottom, throwing my leather jacket in with it. I was not ready for this. At all.

•••

Class rolled around and I sat back by the window again. I stared outside at the cool world, thinking about how soon, the ground wouldn't be covered in pretty colors of red, orange, yellow; it would be covered in a crystal blanket of white that seemed to coat the whole world.