HI GUYS, WOULD APPRECIATE IF YOU WOULD REVIEW AND MAYBE I WILL WRITE MORE? greatly appreciated.
I'm broken, but I already knew that. I'm damaged but that is apparent. I'm not classified, and that's different. No, I am not some sort of heroine in a dystopian future, who's only hope is rebellion. No, I am perfectly ordinary, I'm just not classified into any one group of people. There's the jocks, and the geeks, and the populars, ending right back at the social not classified, I just float around. It's that simple really, I'm un-extraordinary, I've never changed much in the 15 years I've been alive. I have never found love or found a purpose. I prefer the quieter life where I read fan fiction and end up wondering if I should write, and then getting distracted. I'm very easily distracted. I believe that to be part of the reason I am so socially inapt. I sit at the back of the bus every morning, pretending I don't exist, that way no one can call me out. It's a sort of defence mechanism. Has been for a while. It's a good thing too, as I'm usually trying to wake up early in the morning, recovering from the night of restlessness that comes with my insomnia. I'm un-extraordinary in looks too. I was once a brunette, but one night I decided that it would be a great idea to colour my hair an obnoxious shade of deep red. Coupled with my blue eyes and medium stature, I am every bullies dream girl. Luckily I have never been a victim. Well. I have but not in comprehensive. I'm okay in the whole boob department and to be fair, although I'm not a stick figure, I'm a nice size. My name is Myka. And I'm usually called by my last name, except by mother, who insists on using my Christian name. Mother is a devoted Christian and has tried to get me to follow in her footsteps. There's only one downside of her plan, I don't believe in god. I have no siblings, except a sister who is non- biological. Probably for the best too, as whatever sibling I had would be forced into the bullshit that is religion. Dad left when I was young, but I remember what he said when he left, a series of slurred swear words that continue to remind me of the stupidity of drinking. Another reason I am usually not invited to social events. Not like I would want to be but you know. It would be nice to be asked. However I would trade being a socialite, in place of a good book. Yeah, I'm that girl. Sorry.
I pulled on a black sweatshirt and some jeans, heading out the door without saying goodbye to mother, or eating breakfast. I don't know why, but it makes me sick to eat so early in the morning. I have always been told that that's not normal but hey, it's normal to me. The bus was slightly late, and it was raining, heavily. As if that wasn't good enough, there was an oldish person sitting there, giving me a sly look as I pulled out 'great expectations'. I don't think that she had ever seen a teenager willingly reading before. I felt her gaze on me as I read, and self-consciously, I pulled down my sleeves and adjusted the book in my lap. I don't like to be the centre of attention, so it is always slightly mortifying when someone rests all of their attention intently on me. I've spent my life hiding, learning to be invisible, that to have attention focused on me, is slightly daunting. As the bus pulled at the stop, splashing rainwater over the sides of the curb. The door opened excruciatingly slow, and I could still feel her gaze boring holes into my back. I escaped it willingly, handing over my bus pass and finding my usual spot at the back of the bus, pulling out my book once more. The bus was noisy with the gossip girls practically screaming about a new student. They were near the front, and yet I could hear every word that was coming out of their mouths. And damn was it frustrating. I nearly laughed when they were jolted into the other seats when the bus accelerated onwards. I plugged in my headphones and continued reading, blocking out only some of the wailing noises as one of the girls chipped a nail. Urgh. Girls like that aren't worth their weight in gold. My eyes were semi- focused on the book, blurring slightly at the ends like tunnel vision. Lack of sleep could do that to you, I promise. I knew I had biology this morning, followed by English and then maths. English I didn't mind so much, it was the other two that I couldn't be arsed with. I just had no desire to learn about the human body and which sign to use in maths. Cos tan or sin. How about no? I guess that's not really an option. Such a shame. I could really use that no option, for god's sake. I took to fiddling with my zipper on the messenger bag that I took to school each morning. Inside I was greeted with a spectrum of different pieces of paper, and other bits and bobs. There was a bottle of half drank Ribena in the pineapple flavour, a cardigan and several useless pieces of both homework and doodles. I pulled out the Ribena and took a long swig before returning it. We were still driving, but we seemed to have gained several more passengers than the last time I had looked up. I got oblivious when I got invested in a book. I shivered, suddenly feeling the cold of an open door, and there was the new guy. He strode along, probably not at all a stranger to the attention that was caused by his presence. He was thin and lean, with muscular shoulders and ruffled blonde hair. He was wearing a black tee shirt that hugged his lithe figure snugly. He smiled at the girls at the front when they wolf whistled to him, but didn't make a move to get into the seats they were practically shoving their friends out of. Great. Just great. He continued further towards the back of the bus, missing the scowls that each of the boys gave him as he passed. The girls swooning, including those with boyfriends. Sluts. Cough cough. I put my full attention back on my book, reading Pips trouble to get Estella to realize his existence. Bless him, didn't he know that he was below her! I then felt the seat beside me indent. Hoping it wasn't him I peeked up through my lashes. And low and behold. It was. Urgh, he had sprawled himself over the expanse of my seat. I unzipped by bag, placing great expectations lovingly in the side compartment. Smiling at how it had moulded to hold at least two books at any given time. I then looked at him squarely. Sarcasm morphing my features, as I turned to confront him. I cleared my throat, which had his attention.
'An' she doesn't even greet m' he drawled, the southern tone to his voice annoyingly lovely to listen to. I scowled at him.
'Well forgive me for not saying hello, I thought the other girls might have done that enough for you already darlin'.' He smirked, his mouth lilting up on the left side, eyes bright with a silent challenge. I continued anyway 'well hello, if you need my approval so badly.' With that his smirk grew larger. The girls at the front were peering round the edge of the seats, trying to hear what the gorgeous new stranger had to do with the weirdo from out of town, which had appeared two years previous.
'A little birdy told me that he knew yer, says his name is dean.' That had my attention. Dean. Dean as in my dean? What. I had left him begrudgingly to go with mother, here. 'Got yer attention now it seems little missy, he says he misses yer. Although he didn't tell me how damn pretty yer are.' To that I scowled again.
'Surprised he still remembers me' I retorted. Dean and I had been close once, we just hadn't spoken in two years. Just two damn whole years.
'Oh he remembers yer, says yer were feisty. Looks like he was right huh?' to which I replied
'Damn straight'. And then we were there, at school, we slowly started to leave the bus, I hung behind to avoid the hell that was the chaos of leaving the bus. He chuckled as he hung behind with me, I had unbuckled by seat belt and shouldered the messenger bag. When the bus was barren I began to move, going to the front and exiting, before calling up a quick 'thank you' to the bus driver. I headed to registration, ignoring the probing questions that came from the stranger. That is until he called out,
'Wow Myka, will yer wait for m'?'
'Don't call me that'
'Because my name is not Myka, it's Ren.' And then he shut up, trailing behind me like a lost puppy. Girls drooling over said puppy, and the attention once again, focused upon me. What had I done to deserve this? Turns out he wasn't in my registration class, and we barely spoke as we didn't have the same classes for most of the day. Much to my relief. And then I realized. I didn't know his damned name. And he knew mine. Not even the nickname I go by, but my real honest to god name. great! This day is just going to be shit. I can feel it.
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