Geek. Nerdo. Dweeb. Douchebag.
That is how most of the people inside of our school used to call me. And I am so used to it. So beyond used. I’m in senior year, high school. Too blessed to have my whole childhood and entire high school ruined by being bullied by almost everybody. It started way before I was in secondary though. I got a few friends back in Worcesterhire where I was born. We then moved to Holmes Chapel in Cheshire and I spent my whole childhood there. We kind of stayed in a pub. Well if you try to come over Holmes Chapel Comprehensive High school, you would’ve probably notice me easily. Yeah, I’m a nerd. That’s how most of the people consider me in the society. That is how I came to consider myself, too. You would have probably thought of me in a different way. ‘Nerds’ in almost everybody’s transition is the one who wears jumpers, imagine those braces and freckles topping their faces and that thick spectacles covering their eyes. You might’ve thought of me that way. I’m casually wearing an old school for today’s generation. Strange? That’s my fashion. You know what I mean, long sleeved plaid shirt with a fit cardigan that ends up just above my long silk pants. I usually tuck my shirt in and if you thought of me wearing spectacles, yes. You’re right. My hair is always snapped back and was always gelled to perfection. I love calculus by the way.
*
“Marcel! Time to get up now sweetie!”, my mom woke me up for like the sixth time now. “Marcel, c’mon. You need to get yourself ready honey.”, she slightly rested her elbow on my pillow. I can feel mom’s breathe through my ears and my bed slightly sunk telling me that someone had just joined me in the bed. Mom. Not again please.
“As much as I want to sleep again sweetie, with you and Gemma to be accurate, you still need to get dressed up and head off to school.”,I know she’s a bit annoyed now. It shows how her features changes. The tone of her speaking, and her face which I’m still trying to visualize through my covers. She never failed to sound so sweet. To sound like a mother.
“I’m sick mom.”, I told her with a hoarse morning voice, and a bit of a some fake sick tones to make my lies a bit realistic and I dug myself deeply inside my covers. I was actually thinking about adding some scenes like shivering and coughing so that she'll really believe me that I'm sick.
“Marcel, you’ve done this excuse before.”, Mom’s right. I’ve done this excuse before. I should give asthma a try next week. “I’ll get your granola ready. Gemma should be down in a bit too. See you down sweetie.”,she told me and I finally felt a wider space in my bed. She might’ve gone downstairs now. I still can feel her warmth on the spot where she layed down earlier.
I slightly pecked my head from my quilt to see if the lady is still around. Great to see no soul around. I immediately sat down and picked at my fingers. I should probably face this day with bunch of things that lies ahead. I dunno whether these things that lies ahead is pleasing or annoying but I know that most of it is going to be crap. I pulled myself out of bed and headed off to shower. The thought of over looking what's about to happen for the whole day today made me cringe. I suddenly felt my dry body shiver from the cold water streaming from the shower. I recalled my thoughts from earlier. Why do people hate me anyways? I'm not that bad tho,right? Why do they need to pick at somebody to have someone to laugh at? I slightly closed my eyes and waited for the water to soothe my skin. It doesn't help. All I can feel is pain.
"Marcel!" I heard somebody calling after me. I ignored the first three calls for assuming that it was only my imagination or should I say hallucination? I don't know. I'm not taking drugs tho. My Mom is probably going to kill me and she...
"Marcel!", I heard another call. It took me a few seconds to finally realize that it was my mom calling after me. Her voice comes out a lot like an echo. I jerked out of the wet surface and dried myself up.
