Gay Teens In Highschool (Ride The Cyclone) (GOING TO BE REWRITTEN SOON)

What a stupid idea.

Every year in uranium city Saskatchewan. The fall fair would come, when would it come? October first. The fair would stay in town for another 30 days before packing it's bags and leaving. Every year it would be slightly different. Only keeping certain things, such as the shooting gallery or ferris wheel.

Noel loved the fair, but he also hated it. Mainly for the reason nobody wanted to go with him.

Noel gruber, an anxiety filled 17 year old who worked at the taco-bell just outside uranium, who also went to St Cassian's catholic highschool for the children of god. A painfully long name for anyone who dared speak of it.

Noel hated his school. Not just for the fact it had a horrible name. But because it was catholic. He was gay. Gay people and catholic people don't mix well. Especially not catholic people from st.cassian's (a nickname for the school)

Every day he got up, got a lecture from his mother. And walked down the seven blocks it took to get to his school, he had to get up at about 6 to make that walk. His mother had a car but never bothered to drive him. He would arrive at school, go through boring old lessons. Unbearable receeses and lunches. Only to walk 7 blocks back to his house. And to by greeted by a non-understanding mother.

Today was different.

He woke up to blaring of the alarm in his ears. He smacked the alarm clock and got up. He sighed and stared at the clock. 6:30. As usual he groaned and stood up as he stretched his aching back. He looked around his room. Directly across from the door was his small wooden bed. At the head of it was a poster of "the blue angel" a movie of which he had watched about a billion and one times. Beside his bed was a small dresser with a basically-empty flower face atop it. He had a pretty big room, or rather he USED to have a pretty big room. Apart from a small space between the bed and dresser. The whole room was filled with packed boxes. All labeled things such as "winter clothes" "posters" or "makeup". He surprisingly wore a lot of makeup. Mainly to conceal his acne covered face. But sadly he had to pack up all of his things, only thing which was left out of his makeup collection was his black nail-polish. The bottle of the black inky paint was half empty, he had a habit of picking his nails. So he had to re-paint them a lot.

The reason why there were so many boxes?

He was moving.
Moving to France, Moving away from this town. This hell. This loop of agony of which he oh so desperately wanted to be done.
But he would change his mind sooner the you think.

He walked over to his dresser and opened the drawer. The old rusty hinges creaked. He grabbed a dress shirt and his red sweater vest. He considered wearing a tie, but when he realised the only tie he hadn't packed away was a old Christmas one that he inherited from his father. He decided better of it. He opened the bottom drawer and got out a pair of gray pants.

After getting dressed, he stared at an old leather notebook laying on his dresser. He thought for a moment. Then picked it up and flipped to the page that had a blue ribbon sticking out of it. On the page were different phrases scribbled and crossed out. He grabbed a pen from the empty flower vase and started writing.

An hour later, but what felt like five minutes. He glanced at the clock

7:32

"SHIT." Noel thought to himself and he snapped the book shut and sprinted out his bedroom door. He grabbed his backpack and burst out the front door without even saying goodbye to his mom.

While hastily walking down the sidewalk. He looked across the street. There was another boy.

He was tall and had quite the imposing figure. With dark brown messy hair, which half of was hidden under a black baseball hat that had been flipped backwards. He was wearing a dress shirt, almost identical to Noel's. The sleeves were rolled up and seemed to be a bit worn out. He wore a slightly torn red sweater vest. The brim of his shirt stuck out the bottom of the vest. The collar of the shirt was popped out. He had his hands in his pockets while he quietly walked down the street.