Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter One

Chapter One


Sunday night and I find myself wrapped in my green snuggie eating Haribos in front of the television in my living room. My mother is in the kitchen cooking, the smell wafting openly throughout the house and I take in a deep breath. I'm feeling extremely hungry. These gummies are doing nothing to fully please me.

I stash away the gummies, hiding them in a place only I know about since mother hates me eating sweets, and find her cooking in the kitchen. I press my finger to my glasses above my nose and shove them higher up my face.

"What's for dinner?" I ask casually, trying to sneak a sample off the plate. Mother smacks my hand away and gives me a glare.

"Harry you know I hate when you do that. You know what we will eat for dinner. You can wait until it's done. Go get ready for dinner," she reprimands me. I just roll my eyes and walk away.

I go to my room and close the door gently, not wanting to shake the walls of my house by slamming it. Mother hates when I make too much noise. Says it gives her migraines.

I stand in front of my mirror and check my clothing for any loose strings or wrinkles. My button up shirt is pressed neatly and my plaid shorts have each and every string intact. I run a hand over my gelled, slicked back hair and nod. I looked presentable enough to eat dinner at the table. I grin, watching the dimples crease in my cheeks, and check my teeth for any sign of gummies. I take the pack of dental floss out from my pocket and clean my teeth just in case. One can never be too cautious.

"Harry! Come down for dinner!" Mother yells from downstairs and I give myself a quick once over again. Satisfied, I rush downstairs before mother calls for me again. She hates calling me twice.

I sit at the table and her eyes slide over my appearance. I sit up straight and ignore the urge to rebutton my top button. It came undone but I hope by not drawing attention to it, mother won't notice.

Mother tsks and I know she's seen it. "Button your shirt. You look like a poor child," she mutters, setting my plate of food in front of me. I passed the inspection enough to eat at the table. I almost breathe out with relief but I stop myself, not wanting her to hear it. Mother hates unneeded noises.

My plate consists of our normal dinner. A roll, sweet corn, carrots, peas, and a baked potato. Mother doesn't believe in eating meat because it gives the body toxins it doesn't need. I think my dad gave me a piece of fried chicken once. I haven't seen him since. I never asked why they didn't work. I just accepted it.

"Ready for school tomorrow?" Mother asks, her fork scraping the plate as she stabs her carrots. For someone who hates when I make noise, you would think she couldn't stand the sound of her fork scraping against the plate.

I nod. "I've got a test in calculus but I studied my notes yesterday."

"Yesterday? Yesterday? Harry, you know you're supposed to be studying every day. This is your future ahead of you. If you bring home another B I'm taking away your car for a month." I stare down at my peas suddenly wishing they were little bullets I could shoot myself with. I shouldn't have brought up studying. Mother always plays the take away my car card.

"I understand the subject well enough to teach it. I'll get an A. I'm sure of it," I tell her, biting into the dinner roll.

Mother scoffs and gets up from the table. She takes my plate along with hers. I keep the roll in my hand and hold it under the table.

"You've had enough dinner. You're starting to look a little pudgy. Maybe you should walk to school tomorrow." Mother washes the plates in the sink, her back to me. I quickly bite into the roll when she's not looking.

"May I go to bed, please." I'm not tired at all but I want to get out of this room. I need to get my Haribos and finish them under the comfort of my blanket.

"You may," mother answers. I get up and quickly give her a peck on the cheek before scurrying up to my room, my Haribos and bread roll safely hidden beneath my shirt.

In my room I close the door and keep the lights off. I don't have a lock because mother doesn't believe it's important to have one. I bury myself under my blanket, grab my flashlight, and take out my stash of comics I keep hidden underneath my bed. Mother thinks I only read "good" literature, but I can't help but enjoy the superhero lives written about in comics.

I read until it's half past midnight and I know I have to sleep or I won't wake up early enough tomorrow morning. I shove everything under my bed and go to sleep. Monday's are always important.



~~~~~~



The next morning I arrive in class ten minutes early as always. I take a front row seat and ready my desk. My binder and paper are out, my pencil fully loaded with lead, and a pink eraser ready to be used. The students all pile in as the bell rings, barely making it into class. I don't get how people actually survive like that.

"Good morning class," Professor James greets everyone. Out of all my teachers, I think I prefer Professor James. He's got a bad nickname, but he and I get along just fine. "Today we will all be partnering up and working on the classic Shakespeare play 'Romeo and Juliet.'" The class groans but I grin in my seat. I've read the play many times. It's one of the books mother bought me that currently sits on my bookshelf in my room.

"Yo! Professor Jay, don't you think it's a little medieval to have to read that?" I glance over my shoulder at the kid in the back, his hand still in the air. Ah yes, one of the many "hip" guys at school.

Professor James laughs, taking a seat on his desk. "Would anyone like to explain why it's not medieval?" My hand shoots up. "Yes, Harry?"

"Marcel," a couple kids cough, using the nickname I've been given around school. I ignore them. They call me "Marcel the Parcel, a package you don't want to receive."

I push myself out of my seat, my tie getting caught between the desk. People laugh as I pull it free, fixing it before speaking. "'Romeo and Juliet' is about a couple who want to be together and conquer the norms of society. They want to make it known that even though people come from two totally different worlds, that they can work out. Sure, Juliet at first wishes Romeo could change so that they could marry rightfully, but she accepts him for who he is. It's about conquering all odds and falling in love with someone. It's-"

"Gaaaaaaayyyyy," the same kid in the back sings out, earning himself a load of laughter. "Marcel, dude, no one reads that shit but you."

"Bryce, I expect you to behave in my classroom. Detention for foul language in class." Professor James says sternly. "Thank you Harry for that explanation. Please take your seat." I nod and sit back down, ignoring the whispers of "Marcel" around me.

"Ah man! Come on. What'd I do?!" Bryce asks as if he's shock at his punishment. I chuckle under my breath. "What the fuck you laughing at Marcel?! Like that whole Romeo and Juliet shit will ever happen to you!" I try to ignore his harsh comment but it gets to me.

I whip backwards in my seat and meet Bryce's eyes. "Maybe if you weren't an idiot and actually learned people's real names, you wouldn't have to have such a dirty mouth," I bite back.

The classroom gets eerie quiet. Eyes are on me. Bryce suddenly flies out of his seat and charges at me. Before I know it, his fist is against my jaw and I'm sprawled onto the floor. Students suddenly start screaming "fight! Fight!" and hands are everywhere. Bryce puts his weight on me and punches me in the jaw again.

"BRYCE!" Professor James yells angrily and rips Bryce off of me. I can taste blood flooding my mouth. My head spins when I try to sit up. "That's it, you're going to the Principal's office!" Professor James screeches, dragging Bryce to the hallway and calling out for one of the security guards that walk the halls. One of them comes by and takes Bryce. He glares at me coldly before leaving.

I get off the ground and stagger back into my seat. I can't close my mouth and I know blood is dripping out of it since it's staining my clothes. Mother will be angry when she finds out.

Professor James comes back to me and grimaces at my face. "Here, take this pass and go to the nurses office." He hands me a yellow clipboard and I hold it, leaving the room in a dripping bloody mess.

I've been hit before. Multiple times. The students here tease me daily but I've grown used to it. I just never got hit in class before. Or that hard. It feels like my entire face just wants to break off into a million pieces.

I arrive at the nurses office and exchange friendly conversation with the nurse. She cleans me up, gives me ice, and says I'll be fine. I nod and leave the room, clutching the ice bag to my face. It stings.

"Mr. Styles," a voice calls me. I stop walking and turn back, facing the principal's office. Bryce is seated inside. He glares at me.

I walk to the door. "Yes?"

"Take a seat outside and wait for me to call you in," Principal Donovan waves a hand at me dismissively and I do as he says. I've never been in trouble before.

I take a seat outside of the room beside a brunette with her head down. She looks up when she notices me sit down. A lit cigarette is in her hand. She was smoking it with her head down.

"Ooo, that's a nasty hit, isn't it?" She asks, gesturing to the ice pack still attached to my face. She leans down and stabs her cigarette into the floor. I couldn't believe it. She smoked in the school and put it out on the floor? She doesn't care at all does she?

"Bryce is a pretty big guy," I mutter. She laughs, sending chills down my spine. It must be the cold pack giving me shivers. "What are you in for?" I ask.

She meets my eyes, her brown eyes gleaming with glee. "I punched a kid in the face. Got caught smoking. Ditched class. You can take a pick," she shrugs without a care in the world. My eyes widen at her. I've never done any of those things. The thought is so repulsive.

"Oh," I say. Who was this chick? "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

She winks at me and stands up. "Veronica," she breathes out, her pink lips full as she says it. She turns and skips away, a new cigarette already lit between her fingers.

"Veronica," I repeat under my breath. "How interesting."




**A/N**


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