Progress Is Work

Part 1

Sometimes, I feel like no one's listening. Like, even if the room is completely silent I won't be heard.

"Lucas,"

I grunt at the sound of my own name, the sudden snap back to reality unexpected and unwanted.

"Lucas!"

"Yes, Mrs Potter?" I smile, acting as if I hadn't been zoning out for half of class.

"The bell has rung." I look around, and it's true, the classroom is completely empty besides the two of us.

"Sorry," I give a small wave and a weak smile before getting up to leave the classroom.

"Did I give permission to leave?" Mrs Pooter says in a stern tone, no real force behind her words.

"Lucas," she says, giving me a sympathetic smile, she continues, "I know youve been through a lot, but you have to at least pretend to be paying attention." "Okay," I respond, because I know it's the answer she wants to hear. I know what everyone wants to hear. "Good." The science teacher says with a satisfied tone, content with the lie I fed her.

"Can I go now?"

"Yes." She turns back to her desk and starts work on something I don't care about.

* * *

The last bell rings and this time I notice. I had been waiting for the past half hour for the bell to ring, so I can escape the sea of judgemental eyes. I feel this every day. Although, I don't blame my peers, I think it's in the basic nature of most teenagers. I don't blame anyone except him. Who's him you may ask yourself. That's not important yet, don't get ahead of yourself. The only thing you need to know about him is that he is why I'm like I am.

Are you okay? The phrase used to have a certain sincerity to it, at least for me it's did, but now it's just a thing people ask instead of nothing. I have been asked it so many times that I'm sick of it. I may be overreacting but I feel as if I hear it one more time I might snap.

"Are you okay?" I hear the simple, three word phrase and I feel like I might turn around and punch the person who said it. Then the tone registerd in my head, a tone I haven't heard before. It wasn't false sincerity or not caring at all, it was something completely different. Curiosity. I slowly turn around to get a good look at the owner of my least favorite combination of words. It's or I should say, he, is a boy only about an inch taller than me. He has blond curly hair. A strong jawline. Striking ice-blue eyes and I have no idea who he is.

"What's it to you, Goldy Locks?"

"You didn't pay any attention at all in class and the teacher did nothing about it. He is the strictest teacher I have encountered in my one week here and eleven years of schooling over all and he did nothing to get your attention so, either you're hopeless and he's given up on you or he's given you a pass because of something." The stranger pants, because he somehow spit out that run-on sentence out in one breath.

"I'm fine, and even if wasn't I would tell a complete stranger all about my inner torments."

"You're not fine, and my name is Alicio. Now we're not complete strangers." This boy no idea want's happened to me, I told him exactly what anyone else would be satisfied with. So why is he not satisfied?

"What kind of name is Alicio?"

"My parents are from France, I grew up in America though, it means noble or graceful. You can call me Alice."

"Hi Alice, my name is FuckoffIneedtogettothebus." He gives me a sly smirk in response and steps to the side, into a row of desks.

It seems that by the time I get ready to leave the bus has left already. I sigh, a sigh of frustration and relief. I guess I have to, or I should say, get to walk home alone.

* * *

By the I get home and flop on my full-sized bed I realize that it was probably a big mistake to push away the one person who didn't know who I am.

The thought of me messing up the one normal relationship I could have makes me nauseous. I guess I'm going without dinner tonight. I fall asleep like that, along the short way of my bed, head and feet hanging off each end at an awkward angle.