Chapter Two

Blake's Point of View

Even though I left to school twenty minutes early each morning in order to get the desk I preferred, which was located to the right, by the window, so I get optimal light on my piece of paper, yet I was in the front so I could see the board clearly, and to make sure I did the homework correctly, had all of my papers filed, had all of my tests and notes labeled, which were color coordinated by subject and then again by month, and had small talk with the teacher to ensure that we were on good terms, there was no way I was going to get to school on time.

Breaths escaped my lips at a rapid pace as I was sure I began to go through a panic attack. I grabbed a plastic bag, which once had a perfectly good turkey sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato, and breathed into it. Life was not ending. Sure, my car seemed to be broken, but life will not end. Life will not end. Oh my god, life was going to end. Teachers won't see me as the epitome of perfection and the master of precision, but as some screw up. My college recommendations were going to be skewed, giving off the wrong information about me, so I will now have to attend some mediocre college, get some horrid degree, and go into a career position that won't be paying me enough for the actual abilities I had. World, around me, was falling. Oh my god. Why me? I never did anything wrong!

"Why?" I cried out of severe desperation, jamming my foot onto the gas pedal, but the car only growled back at me. This was like a bad relationship. I contributed, but got nothing back. I released a sigh of exhaustion, leaning back in my driver's seat and looking out of the window. The car definitely was not working with me. I pissed it off and now it wanted to destroy me. It was like a woman. Hell hath no fury on a woman/car's scorn. Great. The fumes from the car were making me stupid. My sentences were flawed and implausible.

As I waited for my car insurance company to pick me up, I took out my books and began to make sure that everything was in order. Precision and having everything in place was the most proficient way to spend one's time. It was proficient because there was no excessive time spent "looking" for something. With this mentality at mind, I spent most of my days doing extracurricular activities or homework. Time was something that could not be possessed, as with every second, you were wasting away a bit more and more. Proficiency at least gave us humans a few extra minutes to spend doing something more worthwhile than "looking" for something.

Once I realized that everything was in order, I began to play with the things in the car. I played with the shifts, switching it from neutral to park to reverse, but that got boring fast. I really wished I was one of those children with attention deficient disorder right now so I would be amused by absolutely anything.

Looking into one of the rearview mirrors, I wondered when I could obtain myself a lover. Calculations of mine lead me to believe that during my graduate years, while getting a master's degree in business, some hunk of a guy will captivate me with his looks and charm, who would have been sufficient enough of a lover and promising enough of a person for me to live with. He would have made a good living as some sort of banker, while I worked as an investment banker, and we could have gotten a nice apartment in New York and a timeshare in Bermuda.

With my current looks, many people did not find me "Greek God" status, but superficiality was something I did not believe in. Smarts will overcome because that was something that was not taken away with time. Looks were not very important to me. Someone who was pretty could be a complete moron, and once that moron reached the age of fifty, how far will he or she get with those now nonexistent looks? No where. Exactly. Therefore, it was more important to focus on academia than social status or dress demeanor.

Glasses filled my face. Thick black rims with thick lenses. Sure, mother had given me contacts, but touching my iris with my dirty hand felt weird. Even after I doused my hand with Purel, I still felt odd poking at my eyeball with small pieces of silicone hydrogels. Glasses were easy. One had put them on in the morning, took them off in the evening, and had cleaned them daily. Ruffled brown hair fell down to my eyelids, but my hair was never a nuisance. I cleaned it every three days with shampoo and conditioner, which kept it clean, silky, and shiny, yet was a long enough period where the natural oils maintained the hairs healthiness. My skin was fair, untouched by the sun's rays, which meant that my abstinence gave me a very slim chance of getting skin cancer, one of the deadliest cancers in existence. My lips were heart shaped, pink, red, a bit plump, but they were nice. They moved when I spoke. My head was rather circular, but not a perfect circle as defined by geometry. My skin was smooth, like an untouched river. My eyes were this forest green that I believed were really nice, but not many people noticed them. My nose was straight, maybe slightly a bit hooked up, but it was not extremely noticeable unless one stared at it. No one really stared at me, generally, so I doubt anyone would have stared at my nose long enough to notice the slight hook. Small and petite was the only way to describe my frame. I was a bit short, only two inches below average height of a fully grown male adult, which was 5'10", but I looked smaller. I did not go to the gym or play sports. I was bones and skin. So stereotypical of someone for my social status, but I did not care. Looks faded.

When I finally arrived at school, I was fifteen minutes late. I spent an extra five minutes making sure that it was one hundred percent positive I was getting my car by this afternoon.

"Blake, why are you late?" the teacher barked at me as I entered my first period class. I wanted to whimper, but if I told the truth, she should have understood. What person has not had car trouble? It was like a ride of passage.

"My car broke down. I came as soon as I can."

"Do you know what happens when someone's late?" She asked as I crawled over to a seat I had not desired.

"They get a detention?" I answered, but it was not like the other times when I got positive recognition from the teacher for being a good role model to the other students.

"Exactly!" She said, almost excited. She opened the drawer and began to fill out the form. My world really was ending. I about to enter another panic attack, but I did not want to cause any more of a disturbance. It will wait. It will wait.

"But I didn't do anything! My car broke. I always got the oiled check and the tires checked every month, but it just broke down on me. I did not know why," I tried to justify myself, but I did not think she really paid attention. She now thought badly of me. No longer could I have asked her for a recommendation form that would have wooed college admission people because she hated me! I had to ask someone else. The possibilities of whom I could ask were limiting. I felt constrained, as if I was chained, which made me touch my chest. Blake, breathe. Heavy breaths escaped my lips as I tried to calm myself down. Many other teachers liked me, unless she spread the word of my delinquency? Oh my god, my life was ending.

"If you really want to appeal this, then go to the principal. Excuses will not be tolerated," the teacher said as she placed the yellow detention slip on my desk.

Life around me fell apart, just like that time when my teacher incorrectly graded my test by giving me an eight-seven percent.

(Author's Note: I appreciate the positive reviews I received last chapter. Please keep them coming! I hope you like the two main characters. It was a joy writing their introductions.)