Freak

Chapter One: School Projects and Boys

On the drive to the school, I kept my gaze on my fingers that laid in my lap as I picked at my black nail polish. I hated wearing it, but I had to. Anything that could be covered without causing substation about me. Even though I knew I'd have to repaint my nails later if I kept picking at the polish, I didn't seem to care as I didn't stop. It was a bad habit I had to get out of.

I silently prepared myself. Everyone in school thought I was weird. From my natural instinct to take to the shadows, to my dark clothes I had to wear to protect my skin, and to my shy personality. I was beyond weird. A misfit. The school's strange misfit weirdo. In Eastwood High, I was the queen of misfits and weirdos. No one was stranger than me.

"Here we are," muttered my dad from the seat next to me. I dared to look up. Through the darkest tint of the windows, I could see the shadow of the school's large two-story frame that were lined with windows beyond even more windows. I scolded.

To me, school was prison. For most students, they just complained about homework, tests, projects, and horrible teachers, but I was no normal student. With the strange looks from everyone in the class and windows galore, school was a hell on Earth. It's hard for creatures like us, a struggle even.

I rushed to pick up my bag and raced out the door, not even giving so much as a glance to my dad as I left. I was quick, maybe even too quick because I didn't see the person coming my way at first. I felt a strong force push at my side, and the energy knocked me to the opposite side of the being. My body was forced to the ground, the hard and rocky concrete scraping at my arm. I could feel it rip my skin apart piece by piece, cell by cell, and knew it was bleeding from the stinging sensation.

"I'm so sorry," came a voice from above me. It was thick with a Southern accent, one I know I'd never heard before. He must have been new. "Are you okay?" I risked a glance to see a tall, brown haired boy. His light brown eyes looked worried as they searched my face. I didn't dare to say a word. After a moment, he smiled, one too perfect to look real. "Let me help you up."

I only shook my head and helped myself up. I fought the urge to check my scratched arm. "Who are you, anyway?" the boy asked. I turned away from him to walk away, but before I could, I felt a large hand grab my wrist. My mind went haywire.

No one had ever reached like that for me in such a long time, and especially not one of his kind. It made me lose control and I ripped his hand from my arm quick enough that I didn't feel the sun's light and raced away to hide myself in the shade.

As I sat down in the corner, I caught a brunette and beach blonde with their muddy eyes on me. I could see it in their eyes that they hated my guts, but I couldn't blame them. I was different. I wasn't ever going to be like them even if I tried. I would always be alone, just like my dad and Jackson. I would always be in fear, as long as I lived.

***

A few hours passed by smoothly. No teacher asked me to remove my hood, called my name, or even looked my way. I just sat with my laptop to do my work. It was like that everyday, or most. I was surprised, however, to not see my English teacher, Mrs Collins, in her classroom. Instead, stood an elderly woman with old wrinkled and reading glasses. She sat at the desk, in the grey swivel chair Mrs Collins always sat in, her fingers tapping away on the desk.

I was the last in the classroom, and took my seat in the back corner. I didn't care to look up at anyone. I just sat down and hid my face in a copy of the class novel, Romeo and Juliet.

"Class," began a stern voice from the front of the room, "as you may already know, I'm Mrs Cornwell. I will be in for a few months for Ms Collins who sadly won't be in for some time to take care of her baby girl. She'll be back after winter break." I wasn't surprised. Ms Collins said to the class on the first day of school, only two weeks before, that she was nine months pregnant with a daughter. The whole class knew it would have to come sooner or later.

Her cold eyes could me in the back of the room. She narrowed her eyes, before she spoke. "You, in the back, take off your hood!" she practically yelled. For a long moment, I just sat there. I couldn't take off my hood. If I did, the sun would burn me through the window, not as strongly as it would without the glass, but would.

"I have a terrible skin condition," I mumbled. I wasn't lying. I did have a skin condition that made my skin burn if sunlight touched it. "I burn if sunlight touches me."

"Speak up!" Mrs Cornwell scolded.

"I have a terrible skin condition that makes my skin burn if it touches me," I repeated.

For a long moment, it looked like she was going to fight back at me, but her eyes relaxed. she sighed and turned to look at the window. "Fine," she muttered. "Just bring in a note tomorrow for your guardian about it, or I won't let you wear it. Understand?" I nodded.

The teacher turned away from me to pick up a small glass filled with tiny papers. "You will all be doing projects in pairs. The names will be chosen randomly from this cup. The idea of this project is to learn history on famous monsters of fiction, such as Frankenstein or Bigfoot. You can present your information in any way you would like. Just make sure you add history and anything else popular with your monster. I'll send everyone their topic through your emails."

It must have been a joke. Monsters in my class. It must have been a joke. My mind wandered. What if there was a reason? What if she knew about me? I'd soon be dead if she did. I hid my fear behind my face.

Mrs Cornwell dug her hand into the glass and pulled out two pieces of paper, one at a time. "Blake and Sarashina," she read. "Miranda and Mia. Ian and Cameron. Grace and William." I didn't listen to the rest of the names. Grace and William I repeated to myself. I peered up to see the boy from earlier, the boy who knocked me over, with his eyes on me.

I rolled my eyes and peered back down to my book. I couldn't have enough of him, could I?

***

After Mrs Cornwell, read off the rest of the names, the boy who knocked me over, William, made his way over to me. "So, any ideas?" he asked, his deep Southern voice ringing through my ears. Peering up at him from my book, I sent him the Leave-Me-Alone look. William frowned. "Are you even goin' to help with the project?"

"Of course," I muttered. "I'll be doing to whole thing." He shook his head.

"I want to help."

"Then do it yourself."

"I want to work together." I almost burst out laughing. Why would he, the new boy who had the looks and a cute accent, want to work with me? I was a freak. I stopped myself because he looked dead serious.

I came up with a plan in my head. Maybe if I brought him to my house, he'd get scared by her room that he'd agree with me and let me do all the work. It was a perfect plan. All I had to do was get him to my house.

"Fine," I muttered. "Meet me outside near the Door Eleven at two thirty."