Morose's POV
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B E T W E E N
T H E
L I N E S
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WHEN I was younger, I would dare my father to dare me to touch crawling insects, just so I could see his reaction when I actually did it.
My mom would stand by the kitchen counter and giggle at my tactics, and maybe I would include her also, or perhaps dad was the one to smother her with attention.
That was when I thought the world was all good, that there was no evil on Earth, and that I'd be okay, as long as I was with them.
But then reality struck me at the raw age of thirteen when my mother died from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and my father became a money and power crazed man, who married a woman for the imagery, and I had to deal with her wrath.
It wasn't all bad, I got a step brother named Ben, who was already an adult in his early twenties, but he was the sweetest thing I have ever seen, even if he despised the situation as much as me.
Still, not even money, nor a loving step brother, could have prepared me for —,
"Get out of my car." Carla, the black haired trophy wive snarls and I step out, grateful to be away from her. My car was currently getting repaired due to nonsensical high school pranks, and just because we were wealthy, didn't mean we had a garage filled with cars.
Carla sped off, and I let out a loud huff as I stared at the place before me.
How I hated high school,
Even worse,
A private high school.
Filled with snobby rich teenagers, who looked at you like you were scum, simply because your skin color didn't match theirs. Or maybe you just weren't as skinny and fit.
Letting out a soft noise of agony, I walk into the halls with my head down.
I find my first class, which was English, and take plop in my usual table at the back, the teacher ignoring me since she had long given up on trying to keep me out of her class when we had an entire thirty minutes before the bell rang.
I removed my notebook, my name scrawled beautifully on the cover. Something my mom had giving me, painted and decorated herself.
I open it up, and run my hands over the first page, that she had written a short note on.
To my babygirl, Morose,
May you find peace in this notebook,
May you write your goals, your aspirations and everything you are going to be.
I believe in you,
I love you,
Mummy,
Rose,
A napkin appears in front of me and I frown, looking up to find a pair of concerned dark brown eyes.
My eyes drop to his outstretched hands and I take the napkin from him.
"Thank you." I murmur, dabbing my eyes gingerly.
Jenin, the school's queen rolled her eyes at me in disgust and it's then I realized that I must've been crying for the entire thirty minutes.
Wow.
"No problem." He took a seat next to me, and I sniff, tucking my book away.
Marcus White, that was the boys name.
He wasn't a bad boy, he wasn't a jock, he wasn't a nerd. He just existed. A normal boy who came to school, learned, and went on with his day.
That was how I really knew who he was. I liked how simple his life was.
There was no rumors about him beating up some freshmen in the halls, or having a string of broken hearts trailing behind him, just a plain ole' boy.
He had a skin complexion that matched mine, the color of chocolate, and a diamond stud that was kept clean on his right ear. He was tall, taller than me, which was saying something because I wasn't short. At all.
He wore the normal look of a white tee, and ripped skinny jeans with vans, signature silk waves layer beautifully on his head.
There was no debating that he was handsome.
I looked away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.
If there's one person in the school who doesn't think I'm a freak, why ruin it?"
{ Between T H E Lines}
"Pathetic. Don't you have any friends?" Jenin mocks, as she stands over me at my lunch table.
"Jenin, can you just go away, I don't have time for this." I sigh, and she snorts.
"What? Need some space to sl—,"
"One more word, just one more and I reorganize your face." I stand quickly, squaring up to her and she easily cowers back, but puts on her front as she glares at me.
"I don't know who you think you are but—," a loud slam breaks us out of the tense moment, the entire cafeteria watching us.
Marcus sat at my table, his face black as he stared at Jenin. He had slammed his tray on the table.
What was he doing here?
"Excuse yourself, I need to speak to Morose." He says smoothly, and Jenin simply gapes, before giving off a frustrated noise and stomping away.
He knows my name.
I slowly sit back down, cautious of what was happening. I've gone through enough cruel jokes and pranks for this year alone.
"Hi." I mutter and he nods, picking up his fries to eat. "Um, not that I'm, well it's just that — why are you sitting here?"
"Well, we're friends." He says, his eyes holding pure amusement.
"We are?" I actually question, as I furrow my eyebrows.
"We are."
"Since when?"
"The moment I saw those tears hit the paper." I frown.
"You were watching me." I say, more as a statement and he shrugs.
"I was. You're a beautiful girl."
This was strange. This was really strange. It must be a prank. Yup, that's what it was. Another, careless joke, that always left me humiliated.
I gather my stuff, "okay, whatever's supposed to happen now, I don't want to deal with it. At least not today." I stand and he gives me a confused glance.
"What are yo—," But I was already out of earshot as I walked away, more unshed tears lining my eye lids.
A/N:
Don't worry. It'll get easier to understand soon.
YOU ARE READING
Between The Lines
Romance"It's sad isn't it? What the world has become." ~Zoe A Bannis
