275BAM
Chapter 2
Pressing down on ENTER I watch my flash animation stick figure run around, fighting strong winds, swimming against currents, crawling through raging fire and blasting through space. Over and over again. It's all the same as last class, waiting for everyone to finish and drawing strange pictures to amuse myself. God forbid I actually talk to someone and make a friend, but…
I look around at my class mates. Looking at them, you'd think they're an approachable sort of bunch. In fact I bet they are pretty approachable – it's just, they are all divided up into their little friendship groups. Not cliques, just friendship groups, ones that they've had all throughout high school. Ones that I have refrained from being a part of so far – and so even trying would be all kinds of weird.
So I just figure it's easier to stay by myself. I mean, I've only got a year and a half left of high school left anyway. No biggie, right? I'm quite content with the polite 'hello' I receive every now and then from different people, and the also polite applause every time I present one of my school projects. It's all in all a very tolerable situation.
No more, no less. I've never really been a girl to want more than I have.
"Braidy," my teacher says, setting a hand on my desk and looking at me all disappointedly, "you can't be finished already, can you?"
It's a sad thing when teachers are actually upset when you hand things in early all of the time. But it's seriously not like I have anything better to do. I don't have a friend to talk to, and our school blocks any game sites to my irritation. I actually kind of congratulate myself for remaining unnoticed by the entire student body for the most part. It's a hard thing to achieve – seeing as usually there are so many people set against bothering the 'quiet kids'.
But I guess I've never been quiet as such. Not by choice either way. I'm just the epitome of apathetic.
"Miss, I just finished it," I lie, and I can tell she sort of doesn't believe me. But she just lets out this half-angry half-accepting sigh and shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seriously, like, I've been freaking out. It's due soon and I wasn't even done."
"It's due in two weeks, Braiden," she chides and gives her head another little shake, "Just…just print it off. I don't mind really Braiden. At least you do your work. I'm just really running out of things to give you."
Two weeks. Huh. Maybe I'll just borrow some books from the library and sit in class reading those next time.
Giving my teacher a little smile which she returns with a meek little one of her own I click on my project and print it off for her. Getting up, I go to grab it from where the colour printer is in the other room. I drag my hand across the wall as I go, humming and turning my eyes to gaze out the window…
I stop, freezing, before looking around to make sure that my teacher has gone back to helping the other students; I open up the window feeling a breeze lift up my hair, greeting me as I glare at the straggly haired, dirt covered individual on the other side of the wall.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss, looking around before looking back at him, incredulous.
Bam smiles and I cross my arms over my chest, arching my eyebrows. I honestly didn't think I'd see him again after last night when I gave him the little hand drawn – and well drawn, if you ask me – map and sent him off to the Aston Hotel…only, still covered in dirt and shirtless having left his shirt in my backyard so….
Actually; it'd be a miracle if they let him. So I guess I shouldn't really be surprised at all.
"Your 'map'," he points at me, dropping the smile and using quotation marks, "does not work. I could not find my way to next door house if that was what it for –"
He stops midsentence, his mouth agape.
Giving him an odd look, I take this chance to defend myself, "Yeah, well, I suppose it would help if you were competent – but I'm sorry. I'm guessing they didn't have maps a couple of BCs ago. There's nothing wrong with my map, though, I mean I made a key with pretty pictures and everything so –" I throw up my hands, "if you're just not man enough to understand it…"
Trailing off on purpose I raise my eyebrows at him. Saying to a guy they're not man enough is like saying to a lion that they can't roar. They both get super defensive – well, if a lion understood what you were saying that is. But I bet he'd be angry anyway, lions are often angry and growl-y.
But…Bam, actually, doesn't even look like he heard a word I said.
"Earth to Bam," I wave a hand in his face and he blinks before lazily looking back to me, eyes full of something I can't quite put a name to… "Hello the earth says hello, what does Bam say?"
"She is…she is…" He trails off before looking over my shoulder, his eyes fixated on something…or someone, I glance over my shoulder, following his gaze and pinpointing it to one Cecelia Aston.
Cecelia 'Cessy' Aston sits, doing her work she does every fourth period on a Wednesday – specialist maths. But when I say special I don't mean she's special special, as in she takes it because she's too dumb to take any other; specialist maths is the hardest level of maths you can take. She does it by correspondence, too, on account of no other person wanting to take it.
Needless to say, Cecelia is a total braniac. I'm not even taking normal maths this year. I'm not taking maths at all because when I looked at my electives last year when choosing my subjects, and being given the option of doing maths and not doing maths…well, I just couldn't resist. Maths and I went buh-bye, and hello went the lesser evils of IT and cooking.
Other than being a total braniac, though, Cecelia is really pretty; she has white blonde wavy locks and long-lashed lavender eyes, and she carries this purple and white polka dotted parasol with her all of the time. Cecelia is an albino, but she sure doesn't let that stop her from going outside.
So, obviously, I don't blame Bam when I look back at him and recognise that look in his eyes as lust-filled. Cecelia, more than anybody, would totally deserve it because despite her obvious superiority to the rest of the school population – and the human race – she is the sweetest, friendliest girl I've ever met.
"She is the Aston Hotel owner's daughter, you know, the one you were supposed to be staying at last night…?" I finish his sentence for him and his eyes snap back to me, bugging as he barely conceals his delight.
"I must speak with this girl…you must introduce me." He says, furrowing his eyebrows in thought and then giving a decisive nod. "Now. I am coming in."
Bam grabs the edge of the window sill and he's about to hoist himself into the library before I stretch my arms out to either side, blocking him.
It's my turn for eye-bugging. I mean, he can't come in here. No freaking way. Can you imagine the reactions he's going to get from all of the students – the teachers?
I mean I'm sure the guy looks normal enough…well, he does, just if he got rid of all of the dirt, cut his hair, washed off all of the blood that dripped down him yesterday due to the rose bush – perhaps, maybe put on a shirt…but right now, he looks like he just murdered someone. And is looking for his next victim.
Which, call me crazy, I don't think will fly with neither the school librarian nor my English teacher.
I especially don't think the fact I let the guy come in will look good for me.
"Move," he says, frustrated, giving me a sharp poke to the shoulder and looking irritated with me, "I cannot stay watch a second longer. She is waiting."
She is waiting. Right. I feel my lips twitch, and I let out a sort of laugh at him. Cecelia Aston, nice as she is, I'm sure is not waiting nor welcoming the attentions of Bam. If she sees him in his present condition, I'm sure she'd be kind of terrified.
Shaking my head at Ben's presumptuousness I him a pat on the shoulder.
I'm not sure how to tell him though. Any way I put it, he's going to end up insulted, and if I put it nicely he just won't get the point at all. Sometimes, you have to be cruel – honest – to be kind, however.
"Bam, the only thing Cecelia is probably waiting for is the bell that means lunch time. Or to cure cancer and win a Nobel prize. Neither of which," I give him a sympathetic smile and another pat on the shoulder as he frowns back at me, "involves you in the equation."
Blinking, he narrows his eyes to slits, pointing at me, "Don't you patron me," he spits, looking over my shoulder, his eyes turning lust-filled once more and his breath coming out with a sigh, "she's waiting for me to take her back to my cave, have babies and live happily ever after."
"I sincerely hope you don't mean that." I say, and I meant it, too. Attempting to hack off my dog's head…now that is just sick, but it's not like he knew any better. I think. If the whole cave man thing is true. But forcing a girl to like you? That's just as sick, especially when it's someone like Cessy and not my dog whose crap I have to pick up from the lawn every Sunday morning. "And the word you're looking for would be patronise."
"Why not? I am old. I shall die soon." Bam wants to know, sounding genuinely confused as to why I am so against his coming together with Cecelia. "People do not have long life. I want to make the most of my time."
Ah. I get where he's heading. People died early back then. I wonder if it's really true, you know, that back in those days they used to knock women over the head and drag them back to their caves? That is kind of a scary thought. But even though I'm totally curious to see if he'd actually do it – I really don't think it's ethical to let that happen to anyone, let alone a very nice girl.
"That was several thousands of years ago, something like that," God knows, I'm not a history buff, "people have stuff to keep them alive now days – and people, well they don't go around forcing their feelings, completely superficial feelings by the way, onto other people."
Bam's tensed muscles relax and he frowns, looking confusedly into space. "Superficial?"
"You know, don't judge a book by its cover?" I say (even though Cecelia's cover is totally pretty and shiny, and not misleading at all cover-wise) but he just blinks back at me, looking even more confused. I sigh, "You haven't even talked to the girl. Maybe have a conversation before you decide she's your future wife? You are being a Ted."
"My name is Bam," he corrects me with a frown, "not Ted, and should she not be flattered by my affections? Back as you say 'BC' people said I would get good woman."
I look him up and down sarcastically. Covered in mud and long lashed green eyes misfortunately hidden by a mess of dark brown hair, not to mention his clothes – not exactly dressed to impress, with jeans ripped up and shirt apparently invisible…which actually, didn't make his outfit super bad because is that a six pack I see? Since when do cave people have six packs? He's carved and I bet if I put my hand on them it'd be like a –
No. No I am not going there.
Shaking my thoughts away, I cross my arms and give him a sympathetic look. "Look, I'm sorry but although I'm sure you were quite the hottie back in your era; this is not the epitome of fashion around these parts. And Ted is a fictional character from How I Met Your Mother who, on his first date with this girl named Robin, said he loved her. And do you know how Robin reacted?"
Bam screws up his nose and lets out a big, heavy sigh, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat but not looking very happy about it. "I guess, Miss Mean, that she did not like it?"
I grin at him and put my thumb up, "Ding, ding, we have a winner! Hey…Miss Mean?" I want to know, quirking an eyebrow. I'm not mean. I'm like, really not mean. I didn't even get really mad last night with the thing with the dog – he got off really easy for that. If it were anyone else; they would have called the police on him. But I didn't. Because I am nice, not mean, you know? Nice.
"You heard me." He lifts up a hand and pokes me, hard, right in the shoulder. "Mean. You are also bossy. Telling me what to do all the time," he raises his pitch to a falsetto, making his eyes all big and lips all pouty, "don't hack off my dog's head, put your clothes on, don't eat it I'm not finished making it, don't say I love you to girls – oooh, I'm Braiden."
Okay. For one thing; I do not sound like that, and for another – all of that stuff is just a given to normal people anyway. But I suppose Bam is definitely not normal.
I narrow my eyes at him, raising a hand and giving him a poke to the shoulder exceptionally hard back, "Don't touch the merchandise, you freak, and yeah. You don't. Say I love you to girls when you first meet them, I mean. They freak out. That is why I can't let you talk to Cecelia."
Bam looks up to the sky and then back at me, looking defeated once more. "Fine but can I –"
"Braidy, what on earth are you doing? Talking to yourself?" I turn around from the window, hiding it as much as I can and spreading my arms out once more. I plant a grin on my face which Mrs Brown, tilting her curly brown head, returns with a raise of her eyebrow.
"She thinks you crazy." Bam chuckles from behind me, poking me in the back.
Elbowing him I close the window completely in his face as he makes an oof noise, and shrug nonchalantly at my teacher. I slide my hands into my pockets and lean back on the closed window, which I can faintly hear angry noises coming from behind it. "Window was open. Just cold, is all. It's a little chilly in here, isn't it?"
My teacher stares silently at me and I try to ignore the scratching noises and name calling from behind me, clenching my hands into fists in my pockets. Please don't notice anything is up; please don't look behind me and out the window. Please, Mrs Brown.
She clears her throat, "Well, Braiden, it's 30 degrees Celsius outside and about the same in here; I can imagine why you think it would be cold," she gives me a sarcastic look and rolls her eyes good naturally before going back to helping other students.
Letting out a sigh of relief I head towards the printer, glancing out the window as I go. But Bam's gone. Thank the goodness. I let out another, bigger sigh of relief and stop, plucking my paper from the printer and looking down at my work. Maybe he'll go bug someone else now –
In the corner of my eye I see a dark brown straggly haired figure examining the drinking taps, pressing them down and watching as water spurt back out at him with amusement.
Maybe not.
Weeeeeeee
Sorry for not updating so quick. I was, like, away all week. Like yeah. Lols.
Hehe kidding. Hung around all these nerd types a lot last week. They were awesome, these uni kids that played WOW all of the time and spoke like that. Like lols. It was funny as, watching and listening to them. One of them got all these cheese burgers from McDonalds and put them all in each other and ate them, later complaining about his cardiovascular shiz. I also downloaded a heap of stuff off of their network – although I'm noticing it's not all super good quality and that I'll need another player for the smallville episodes because they won't play on windows media.
Anyway. ENJOY!
Love, LOLLLZZZ.