Mark Jefferson's Past: Life is Strange Fanfiction (ON HOLD)

Chapter Three

Naturally, I got shortlisted. With two other students from another class. Instead of pride, I felt an inexplicable sense of annoyance and a weird sense of triumph as my father's face flashed in my mind.

'Hey Mark.' I turned in surprise. It was Samantha Evans, the quiet girl who barely initiated conversation with anyone but her best friend Judith who walked with a limp. They were just slightly above me on the social ladder, which wasn't much of a consolation.

'Are... are you going for the party?' Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

I saw myself in them & felt a wave of disgust wash over me.

Tomorrow was the night. I had it all planned out.

'I am, Samantha. Are you?' I asked.

'Sure, I guess.' Relief flooded her face even as she struggled to keep a placid expression. 'I guess we could, y'know, hang out a bit if you'd like.'

'Yeah, cool.' I said halfheartedly. It was as clear as day that she was just trying to chat me up so that she wouldn't have to face the party alone. Better to be in a group of loser lackeys than face the unforgiving world of high school alone.

Although, she won't be expecting to find me anywhere. Because I would be hanging out with the Vortex Club members.

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On TV, they showed you that the transformation was almost effortless, an overnight phenomena which propelled someone like me-- or worse-- to the top of the social ladder.

I would be the first to call bullshit on that.

After school I would usually make a beeline for the gym. Not the local one either, but the one in the next town. I took liberties as Clayton Jefferson's son to get Butler Bertram to drive me there every day. I paid him a handsome tip every time in exchange for confidentiality, where he will tell my father I was out studying in the library there which was really much more humongous and full of material on math & science, so it was a believable lie. I also bought all the things I would need under a false alias, including booze if I ever needed a pick-me-up. Arcadia Bay itself was small, and everyone knew everyone. Yet, everyone in Bayston Town generally minded their own business and was the home for drifters, which made my preparation go over smoothly.

I hid my body under loose clothes. Even if it was sweltering hot in the summer and I was on the brink of spontaneously combusting, I still put on my jacket. Not that I had to explain myself; everyone just took it as further proof that I was weird.

Hair dye, contacts, a new outfit really did a lot to change a person though. As someone who was a 'ghost', nobody really saw my face up-close. It would be pretty hard, I mean, I always shielded half of it with my long hair.

What TV shows never told you was that the transformation was painful & took a longer time than you thought. It took me hours to master how to put in and take out my contacts swiftly, days to get the perfect shade of chestnut brown for my hair (I bought wigs of course...just in case) , and weeks to perfect me- my voice, my way of speaking, my mannerisms, my background, family, interests, other details.

Tonight, I was Clement Graham.

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