The first day of senior year came quicker that I had expected, and with it came all the dread I had anticipated, but worse.
Each year at Portsmouth High got progressively worse. Everyone expects their senior year to be the best, but I highly doubted that was going to be the case for me. The only friends I had were the best friends I'd had since kindergarten, Marcus and Samantha. They had gotten me through countless years of torture.
We sat, shoulder to shoulder, in the close quarters of the cab of my pickup truck. Sure, the size of the truck was a little inconvenient when there were 3 of us who needed to get to school and only 2 seats, but I wasn't even close to being willing to get rid of the thing. I had gotten it for my seventeenth birthday from my grandma, before she passed away. I could tell the truck used to be baby blue, but after years of facing harsh weather, it was more of a faded rusty brown with splotches of faded blue here and there. Though it wasn't much on the outside, the inside was what made it special. Because the car was manufactured at some point in the 70's, it had "retro flare". At least that's how my grandma had put it. On the inside, it was covered from floor to ceiling with red velvet. Any normal seventeen year old boy would have been mortified, but I was fucking ecstatic just to have my own car.
Samantha sits squished in the middle, as usual. She didn't mind though; whoever volunteered to sit in the middle had full control over the radio. At the moment, Samantha was totally abusing her powers by torturing me by blasting the newest EP from Marcus's 'punk rock' band. As we approach the school, I get an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. This year will be better than last year, I tell myself. As long as I can keep my demons at bay.
The last few years for me have been... rough to say the least. Basically, I have a rough past, a past that involves fights, alcohol, facing the wrath of my insane father, and not to mention the multiple visits to the mental hospital... but this year, I decided it wasn't important anymore. It's senior year. It's almost over.
We pull into our usual parking space. Samantha takes a look at the school and makes a vomiting gesture.
"Agh. I can smell it in the air," she gags. "Teenage angst and testosterone."
Marcus opens the passenger side door and swats the back of Sam's neck before getting out.
"What the hell was that for?" She grunts.
"For bein' ugly," he replies smugly.
She sticks her tongue out at him like a child in reply.
Marcus and Sam's relationship had always been a bit confusing. The only thing I knew for sure was that they had slept together over the summer, and he had told her that he loved her. Now that school is back in session, they act as if nothing happened. It's my job to simply not bring it up.
We amble towards the school, in no particular rush to get there. I take notice of the new sign installed by the front doors; the previous senior class's class gift to the school.
"Hey, I think they spelled 'Portsmouth High' wrong. I'm quite sure it's spelled 'h e l l'," Marcus snickers. I would laugh, but something catches my eye. Strolling carelessly towards the other entrance, is who I'm quite sure is the same girl I saw on that roof that fateful night 2 years ago. She's changed a bit. She walks with more confidence, almost floating, and her dark brown hair now fades into a salmon pink. She wears and simple leather jacket and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, but on her it looks like something that could be worn on the red carpet. No fucking way. It can't be her. She can't be here. At my school.
My reprieve is rudely interrupted by Marcus's hand smacking my shoulder.
"Dude. You look like you just saw a ghost."
I think I may have.
