A Vacant Soul

Chapter Two

Not at all to my surprise, I wake up to having my face pummeled in by a pillow. I hear the sound of Axton's voice shouting something unintelligible. The message is clear, though: "wake up."

"Axton!" I shout, before chasing him down our set of stairs. "Get back here!" We rush through the hall to the kitchen table, where I hear the unmistakable sound of my dad frying eggs.

"Okay, okay, short stuff. No need to lose yourself," Axton said as he took on a patronizing tone. He can be like that sometimes. He acts older than he is. Older and more superior, though it fits him.

Before I can catch Axton, my dad tackles me and pins my arms to my side, both of us laughing all the while. I anticipate his next move as he shifts off his stiff leg, and slip out of his grip.

"Both of you just stop it now," my dad mumbles, the entire atmosphere very informal. I think how odd he looks. His greying hair seems to fit with his tall face, but he carries himself sometimes like someone who is just a few years older than me, and sometimes like someone a million years old.

Axton teases me in a nonchalant manner, "Yeah, Hugh. Eat your breakfast." Needless to say, I knew a long day was ahead of me.

~~~~~

My life isn't too spectacular in any way, other than the slight lack of style that my friends and I have. Just to prove my point, my best friend, Chris Opasno is known to wear torn jeans and a suit jacket at the same time, just because, according to him, "Life's too short to not experience everything you can, including horrendous fashion." He's brilliant, really.

Speaking of my friends, I may as well introduce you to them now; Chris, Jacob Ontrouw, Carrie Wood, Sarah Jameson. We're as thick as thieves. Funny wording, that, because Chris actually was convicted of shoplifting at a young age.We have our inside jokes (none of them too good) and our traditions that we follow almost religiously. We help each other out, and fool around more than enough. We all get decent grades most of the time.

We're all great friends. The observant ones might be asking if Carrie and I are a bit more than great friends. Yeah, we've had our moments, but nothing like the cheesy romance novels with a half-naked guy on the cover, where the girl throws herself at the overly masculine figure. Besides, I don't have the abs to make that to happen. Maybe I should stop rambling...

"Hey, Hugh!" Chris shouts to me from across the gathering crowd of teenagers in front of the school. I see the dark bags under several peoples eyes. Probably stayed at the school dance too late last night. Or went home too early with someone else. "Finished you work for Ludford's class yet? This bunch," he motioned to Carrie and Sarah behind him, "Won't let me, uh— check my homework."

Just as Chris sat down on the brick sign in front of the school, a drawing, intellectual voice call from behind me, "Not on the sign, Mr. Opasno!" The middle-aged chemistry professor, Dr. Delinger came around the corner of the main school building.

Dr. Delinger is a classy sort of man. An outdated classy, but classy all the same. He had just gotten back from a morning smoke around back of the school. I could smell the cigar on him, like a subtle cologne, only less desirable. You'd think that the only person with a doctorate in chemistry in the entire staff wouldn't smoke. Then again, he was working at a high school when he definitely had had offers from universities that payed much better money. You couldn't always be so sure about people.

Sliding off of the low wall, Chris muttered, much more quietly, "That man's got it in for me."

I nod, before absentmindedly agreeing, "He's got it in for everyone."

The first period bell rang faintly as we filed into the hot school. The overwhelming stench of sweat, teenage odor, and some cafeteria mystery meat mingle before escaping through the propped-open door. The sickly smell is, well, sickening. Just another day. Hopefully.