Fake smiles is all I have to offer to my "friends" as we sit in lunch. I'm too focused on imagining an easier, simpler life to pay attention to whatever joke was just said. They didn't really need my company, which makes me wonder why I even sit her everyday. I don't really mind sitting alone, of course people would talk about how big of a loner I am, but they are the least of my worries.
"You still have food," Olive stated sitting to my left, observing my tray of a half eaten slice of pizza and a full water bottle. She had a worried look in her eyes, but she didn't know a thing. Olive may be one of my actual best friend's, but she's one to speak her mind. Or just say the wrong thing in a bad situation. Point is, she's just not that good at advice.
Nobody else at the table was paying attention to our little conversation taking place. They wouldn't even to be able to notice if anything was wrong. Their brains were too focused on other things like their phones or the latest drama going on in someone's lives. None of this was for me.
"I'm not that hungry. Just gonna head to the library before until lunch ends." I didn't get a chance to hear her response for I was already taking my tray to the trash. I could feel everyone's eyes burning into my body like they've never seen anyone take their tray before. It's awful to say the least, like they're all pointing out my flaws in their minds. Like they're pointing out how I don't belong here.
The library came into view as I made my way through the empty halls. It was peaceful compared to how it's usually crowded with immature, hormonal teens screaming instead of talking in normal voices. I can't deny that I'm never like that, but these people are just so.... psychotic. Not like murder, villain psychotic, just annoying psychotic.
The library hardly had a soul expect for the librarian and a couple of students working on papers. I made my way to the historian section. Greek mythology is my favorite, but I was in search of something new, more interesting. Something that couldn't possibly exist even if hell froze over. None of the titles of books covering the spines stuck out to me, except one, 'Neverland'. I pulled it off the shelf, nearly dropping it from how much it must've weighed. The cover was just like some witch's book. Of course it had the name on the spine, but the name on the front was in some weird font, there was designs, like swirls (I really have no idea how to make this clear), on the side. The weird part is that it didn't even have the author's name on it....
I took the book to one of the couches in the corner, raising a brow to the mysterious object in my grasp. It's not like I didn't know what Neverland was, but it's nice to imagine it being a real place - an escape. It was just more tempting with a mystery author and strange cover.
The pages were mostly old, but full of unknown words and wacky pictures. They're weren't chapters, just writing going on forever, like some sort of journal that made it's way into a high school library. A certain page managed to catch my eye. A boy, around fifteen to seventeen, was drawn in nothing but clothes made of leaves, things from nature. His hair was swept to the side covering his forehead, his right hand raised in the air holding a dagger, and him standing on a cliff, trees surrounding all around him. Under the picture was a name, Peter Pan.
That couldn't be the Peter Pan; the boy who never grows up, the boy who's escaped the grasp of Captain Hook, the boy who the lost boys look up to, the boy who's best friend is a fairy, the boy that I envy. He was always my childhood hero ever since I saw Disney's version of Peter Pan. It would be amazing to live forever young and having no responsibilities like adults do. No stress, no pain, nothing but happiness.
My eyes switched to the paragraph above, they nearly bulged out of their sockets as I read the very first few sentences, Peter Pan may be a childhood hero, but he's not even human at all - he's an angle. His job is to take kids to heaven, also known as Neverland. He held their hands as he would take them to Neverland, every dead child.
I had no words for what I had just read. Of course he isn't real so it can't be true but that's just terrible. I mean, yeah, it's cute how he's the one to help them get to the holy place, but that doesn't change the fact that it's weird as hell. I had planned on reading more, although that was enough to be thinking about for the rest of the day, but the bell rang as soon as I was about to turn the page. We have ten minutes between classes but my next one, Creative Writing, is all the way across the school and I still have to stop by my locker. I checked out the book and pushed through everyone in the halls. It's like they are too into conversations or just not caring to move or walk a little faster.
"Oh my God." My piece of crap locker wouldn't open for nothing. This is just ridiculous that it's taking me this long to get the darn thing opened. I finally got it, stuffing Neverland into my bag before grabbing my binder and pencil case and walking to the English hex. They're was only one person in the room besides the teacher, Mrs. Wayne, who was at her desk sorting through today's lesson. I took my seat in the back of the class right next to the window. Most people would get distracted by them, but strangely it helps me focus. Like whenever we have to make a short story or something, it just gives me ideas.
The class didn't really consist of anything but just having to write a story based off Twilight. It doesn't have to be about werewolves and vampires at war, or a girl from Arizona who can't make up her mind about which guy she truly loves, it just has to be a little bit similar. I had some ideas for it, just not as much to where I can have it all planned out and started in one night. Plus I knew for a fact that I would be too distracted by that book to try and write that story.
Fourth period went by super quick without anyone bothering to talk to me. It would've been pointless considering I had my headphones in the whole time. Geometry was not for me. The walk home wasn't far since I literally lived one minute away when walking. I crossed the street, turning and walking up the sidewalk to the townhouse. Nobody I knew walked home or even lived this close to the school to. I was all alone.The house came into view, making me pick up my pace. I unlocked the door and ran straight up the stairs to my room where I could be alone for a few hours.
