Starry Eyed

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I couldn't go back to the dorm yet without my key- yet another reason to hate Kim- so I'd have to wait for the Ken doll to finish his little party, and who knew how that long would take. I didn't have the courage to go back inside either, so I just hovered awkwardly outside the hall, feeling sorry for myself as the hours ticked by.

God, Kim was the true meaning of 'jerk'. Note to self: never tease queen witch of the academy. I'd never have expected a short Asian girl to be the one who caused my most embarassing moment. But then, this school was certainly a place for the unexpected.

Did anybody here even like Kim? I'd have to investigate that one.

Time passed slowly, kind of like I was trapped in it. I felt like I was in a river with a gentle current, pulling me along into the inevitable at the monotonous pace of a snail. The music was loud enough to sort of vibrate the floor, but not loud enough to carry right through the school, and there was quite a bit of shouting gushing through the doors. I lingered like a right nerd outside of them as if I was an uninvited guest. Too scared to gatecrash the party, because of my complete and utter geekiness.

It made me think. From the outside, who was I? I didn't know what people saw when they watched that Luca kid throughout their days. Did anyone watch me? Or did I just fly under the radar? It was the struggle of being a loner.

Back at normal high school, when I was thirteen and had just hit freshman year, the teachers all loved me. I was their little pet, their carnival attraction, the kid they'd show off to the world. They sent me to out-of-school quizzes for literacy, made me enter all sorts of competitions, tried to use me like the spokesperson of the school. I was almost the star of it all. I was Taylor Swift to Diet Coke, I was Daniel Carter to Jockeys underwear, I was teenage Justin Bieber to Proactiv. But I was just the academic star. And everybody knows academics are not where the cool kids hang out.

I wasn't, like, a prodigy; honestly, I was just clever. I could write, and wasn't too bad at the other necessary subjects, which couldn't be said for the other students at the high school. It was kind of one of those crumbling schools where all the kids are bad, and they graffiti walls and smash the windows and smoke cigarettes behind the bike shed. I wouldn't have ever gone there if we'd lived close to another school, but the other closest high school was a fifty minute drive away, and that would have been like being murdered every morning at five am. Home school wasn't an option too; contrary to popular belief, smart kids don't always have smart parents. Or rich ones either- I was only boarding thanks to a scholarship I won. Let's just say my father was a mechanic, and leave it at that.

So I was the school nerd. I was bullied. It wasn't physical bullying, though, which was probably a good thing for parts of me such as my brain and the family jewels. It was just, sometimes, the popular kids would hang around and tease me, and once the basketball team captain twisted my arm. But really, that was the closest thing to bullying I got. Surprisingly, even at a rough school like that, they just used words. Sharp words. Words like knives and scissors and swords, hurled through the air at me. When I won the scholarship, I was relieved. Not relieved of physical pain, but relieved of words.

"Alright, alright! Everybody please listen up!" I heard the painful screeching of the microphone through the speakers, howling as somebody tapped it on the top, and snuck my head around the corner of the door to take a look. The music cut out and everyone's attention snapped to the front of the room. Star stood on the stage in her enormous puffy pink dress, holding the mic tight like it was some sort of precious ancient artifact. "Tonight, I'm doing things a little different to most booming high school parties. Most of you will know it's my trademark for all my parties, so this is always exciting!"