Broken Strings

Confrontation at it's finest

Confrontation at it's finest

“One must know one’s self before understanding others” is something my parents preached to me from a very young age. They taught me values that I’ve kept with me all my life. Now that they have their own lives, I’ve been pushed aside. I’ve heard my parents refer to me as baggage at one stage. My Father once made a joke about me having to ride where the bags are kept when we went on holiday. What kind of Father sits there and says something like that about their own child, and what breed of Mother sits and watches the words fly from his dirty mouth. I’ve learned to live on my own terms. My parents are hardly around anymore therefore I am freer than most though still feel confined. At school I am the outcast. I’m the last picked for the volleyball team and usually have to be swept into the team expected to lose. I’ve learned to live with it and now choose to ditch sport at all costs. Not many people tend to pay any attention to me but things were different on this day, it was the day my world was flipped on its head. Though what was to come is something I couldn’t even have dreamt. Not even in my wildest dreams.

~*~

“Class! Quieten down!” Mrs Hurley called from the front of the class. Her hair bounced atop her head as she spoke.

“You quieten down!” Jim Carly called from his seat. Mrs Hurley’s gaze became stricken.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” she cursed. She scrawled Jim’s name on the right hand side of the chalk board before adding three crosses, “It’s a lunchtime detention for you,” she finished. I’d always admired her strength and courage. “Class, as I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted, we have a new student. Please make him feel welcome,” every pair of eyes searched the room, some of them landing on me. That shows how much they notice me. As a blonde haired girl leaned across the table to greet me a tall lanky boy walked through the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” he huffed under his breath. I could barely decipher his words.

“No problem, Peter isn’t it?” the tall boy nods. “Lovely to meet you,” she smiled. He wore mostly black with a white beanie covering most of his auburn hair.

“Same to you,” he mumbled.

“You can take a seat by Christophe. She pointed to a seat across the room from me. His features were  the closest as I’ve seen to perfect. His pale skin was riddled with freckles and his steely grey eyes looked straight through everyone and everything he looked at. He looked wise, older.

“Hey, ranga! You need a pen?” the class began to snicker and gossip at Jim’s remark.

“No thank you,” he replied with more grace than Jim deserved. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes from this new wonder. I’m not sure what it is about him but from the moment her walked through the door I felt as though I was lured to him.

“Peter? Would you like to tell us about yourself?” Mrs Hurley’s voice rang out through the classroom.

“No thank you, you can continue your class. I’ll catch up,” he assured her. His voice was almost melodic. It had a slight rhythm to it that I couldn’t pinpoint.

For the forty minutes of English I endured I hadn’t taken any notes away, all I could think of was the new guy. His thick woollen jumper, his dark jeans, his stand out white beanie, “Amelia?” a voice came from my left and I whipped around to see Mrs Hurley standing there with a stack of textbooks in her hand.

“Yes?” I asked, trying not to sound annoyed that she had ripped me from my daydream.

“I want to know whether you understand the consequences?” by now I am so confused I have no idea what she is talking about.