Not Quite This Not Quite That

Chapter One

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I looked at myself in the mirror. Short strawberry blonde hair. Ocean blue eyes. Light tan freckles upon pale ivory skin. Nothing was out of place. So then why was I so nervous?
Oh right... tonight marks the first time anyone would've saw me since sophomore year- a scary thought, but it’s a good thing too.

Since a week into summer I had been trying to change myself. For you see, I wasn't a good person back then. I was very… irritated and angry at myself and especially the world around me. People absolutely despised me- feared me. My grades dropped and nearly found myself repeating the 10th grade. It was a terrible time for me and I am grateful that I have changed since then into someone decent. Hopefully the world is as proud of me as I am.

I sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time, checking myself out in the mirror. Eyes traveling up and down what I would be wearing for that night. I turned around to my childhood friend sitting on her plush white bed with little pink kittens on it- typical. I stretched my arms over my head, hearing a popping sound from a lack of movement and let my arms fall heavily to my side with a faint clap.

"So? How do I look?"

Lizzy smiled at me and stuck up two thumbs up, proud of the outfit she had picked out for me. A pastel pink sweater that covered my too-small hands with a pair of ripped blue skinny jeans- the colour rivaled my skin tone in battle of the palest. At this point, these clothes looked like hot pinks and blue  on me.

“You look amazing, a barátom”

I watched her stand up and walk over to me, hands traveling up and down my torso, smoothing out the wrinkles of my sweater,  smile never faltering as she made me look perfect for the day. Once it was perfect in her eyes, she took a step back just to turn around a grab her olive green messenger bag, worn out from the years of use- enamel pins showing a history of varying phases.

And before I knew it, we were driving in her black porsche convertible, blasting cartoon music and sing-screaming along as if we were anyone important that everyone should hear loud and clear. Watching the world fade by in a swirl of colours and cool crisp summer-fall wind. Sadly, it came to an end as I saw our big white almost grey school show up in the distance, cars in the distance dropping off various students of all different sizes and ages. Damn, too soon. We soon joined them, parking into one of the back parking spots (easier to find and no one takes those spaces Lizzy would always say,) and walked up cement steps and through a glass door with a banner over it saying “Welcome Class of 2023” in blue and red colours, a bulldog next to it. We love some good school pride, right? Yeah, that wasn’t the least of it. Walking in, everywhere you turned was the school colours- red streamers, blue balloons, red jacket, blue skirt. Wow, the student council really outdid themselves this year. I’d have to talk to Francis about what inspired him to do all… this. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, people like him always have a ‘go big or go home’ attitude.

We quickly made our way to the farthest table in the back of the cafeteria, placing our bags down and claiming it as our own. With the lights shining towards what would be considered a dance floor, we were hidden away by a cloak of darkness and a cloud of anti-social high school edginess. Just as I like it. Away from the jocks and the party goers, the cheerleaders and the druggies, all trying to have some fun. We weren’t truly one of them- any of them. But hey, none of us were really anybody. In this school, there were no social groups- this isn’t Mean Girls afterall. But, of course, it’s fun to pretend that our whole school wasn’t a mixed bunch of weirdos with no standards of who to talk to. So, let’s all pretend that it is a normal high school. I’ll call ourselves  the “cool weirdo people who aren’t quite the Heathers but also not quite Doom Squad.”

For an hour or so we just rested there. On our phones, not speaking or anything- but, we were sending memes. Classic. I seemed to have gotten lost into pixels and ironic edgy nothingness when suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder. Of course, I did the most manly and mature thing I could’ve in such a situation.

“What the sweet vanilla sundae on a waffle you bleeding little-!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, slapping the face of whomever was behind me with a loud clap of skin hitting skin. Ouch, that even stung my hand. Once the invisible red haze of fear cleared from my vision, I looked at the stranger I had just hit.

“Oh my…! I’m so sorry!”

I said very carefully, undertones of shock. I quickly looked around to see everyone staring at us, well there goes my anonymity and good image. I cupped his face with my hands and quickly looked back to him. Our face super close, noses touching. I could see the hazel brown shade of his eyes, shining a red in the light and the tiny almost black freckles on what I can only describe as an american tan. Little black snake bite piercing over chapped pink lips. Shoot, hot bad boy alert. Calm down Oliver. I pulled back quickly before anyone could realize my attraction to the victim of my abuse. I scanned his face hurriedly, yes, there it was. A budding red hand mark on his left cheek. Why did I have to mark such a beautiful piece of art?

“Here, mate, come with me, let’s… go somewhere less public.”

I tried to offer, taking his hand and standing up to take him out to the bathrooms, I had makeup in my bag and I could easily-

“Oh, nah, it okay man. Here, let me take ya.”

He said with overzealous confidence and a deep american tone: New York-ian. With the way he spoke, it seemed like he was flirting with every line- who gave him the right. I hated those types of people, you know the ones. Flirty and playful. We call those “heartbreakers.” I would know first hand between exes and my old playboy self? I would know it far too well. I soon found out he wasn’t only strong in looks but also in strength as I soon found out as he pulled me away from Lizzy, tripping over my own two feet as I tried to catch up to his pace. I ended up speed walking to match his long strides of a nonchalant walk. This should be fun.