Reaching Insanity (Matt Smith fanfic)

Part 8

Before I knew it, Monday was here. By the time I was awake and ready to leave Matt's door was still closed and silent. I left him a sticky note on his door telling him that I had left for my first day of classes. After half a week of being here I still have hardly any means of transportation, damnit I should have thought this through. I scold myself, being here this long, planning this year my entire high school career and I forget about transportation.

Fuck.

I snatch the phone in the kitchen off of its hook and dial Wesley's number. The phone rings only once before he answer.

"It's Wes." he says too cheerfully for a morning.

"Hey Uncle Wes, it's Aurora," I press the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I rummage through the pantry.

"Hello dear! I haven't heard from you in nearly two days, I was starting to worry that Old Matt had taken you hostage for himself!" I roll my eyes, the morning is never a good time for his dry humor.

"Sorry," I ignore his comment, pick up a box of Cheerios, and set it back down. "Hey, I haven't got transportation arrangements yet, do you mind if you drive me today?" The next box is FruitLoops; pick-up, set down.

"Ah of course, me and Margie will be over in a few, you mind if Margie comes? Of course not! Be over in a few!" The phone clicks off, and I set it down on the counter.

Reese'sPuffs; pick-up, set down.

I sigh and drum my fingers over the cool counter top, finding my way to the fruit basket sitting perkily in the middle of the counter. I pick up a hand sized red apple, an apple on the first day of school, how cliché. I smile and toss up the apple, and palming it once more before biting into it. I lean against the table and stare at the silent go and pass of the cares outside the front bay window, the world seemed almost silent...

Until Wesley pulled up. Music blaring so loud the bass nearly synced with the beat of my heart. I sighed, swooped up my bag and headed out the front door.

Wesley's truck was almost robotic, not futuristic robotic no that would actually be good. More like, in the landfill for twenty years robotic. All metal through and through. The paint job was like chipping gray pray paint. As if someone got bored and said "let's make this look like wet concrete", and just graffitied the entire thing.

The whole thing shook as I slammed my door, hoping to god it wouldn't pop off in the middle of the highway.

"Hello lovely!" Wes smiled at me in the review mirror, his red hair flaming above the seat, sticking out sporadically all over. "This is Margie, Marg this is Rory!" he pointed a thumb back at my in the back. The woman, Margie, had stringy blonde hair and looked just as good as the truck. A joint was squeezed between her fingers. I began to cough at the smell of the burning marijuana.

"Hey dear," she smiled back at me, she had to be at most 15 years younger than Uncle Wesley.

"Damnit Marg," Wesley huffed at her. "It's a little early to be smoking pot don't you think?" he snatched the joint straight from her hand and flicked in right out the window. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed there not to be any police around the neighborhood.

"Don't you think you're a little old to be smoking pot," she hissed, emphasizing on the word 'old'. I stared out the window, thank god I'm not staying with them.

"Have you been in contact with your mother?" Asked Wesley, sidestepping his girlfriend's comment.

"Yes,"

"How does she feel about Matt and the house?" He asked casually.

"You mean how does she feel about you mixing up our plans and having me stay with a younger man only two doors down from his bedroom everynight?" I sighed rubbing my head.

"Exactly!" Wes laughed and turned the car into the parking lot of the college, I huffed and popped open my door once he pulled up to the front.

It didn't take long to get to the class room. About fifteen students made up the entire class, I took a seat right in the middle of the room. I was five minuets early so only about half the people were there. I flipped open my notebook and set it out on my desk along with a pencil and pen. I'd have two classes per week, a steady schedule, not to hard not to easy.

"Red dress?" I turn around, confused at the random introduction. "Ha, it is you, what a coincidence." It was him, from the party, Mr. Charm. I realize i never got his name although I don't feel bad since he addressed me by 'red dress'.

"Hey," I smile at him and he takes the seat next to mine.

"Not many people take art classes over the summer," he flashed me that same perfect white smile. "If I see you anywhere else I'm going to start thinking your stalking me."

"I think it'd be more likely that your stalking me," I laughed messing around in my bag, acting like I'm actually doing something to distract myself from his seemingly flawlessness.

"No... That wouldn't work..." he running his jaw in his hand in thought.

"oh?" I giggled.

"Yeah, I'm much sexier," he winked, causing me to laugh.

"Oh definitely," I said trying not to sound like I meant it.

The teacher, Mr. Freedmen(as written on the board) walked to the front of the room.

The guy leaned over and whispered to me, "So, how 'bout no ones stalking anyone... And you just let me take you out tomorrow night," I shot a glance at him, his smile bright as ever.

"I don't even know your name..." I whisper back, heat creeping up my cheeks.

"Daniel," I could practically feel his smile. "I'm going to take that as a yes."

And with the the teacher turned towards the board, scratching chalk up the green. "Andy Warhol," he began. "What IS pop art..."