He's always at the corner

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Prolougue

To you, when you're at the corner again.

So, I did the math and there's approximately 1.4 hours left until school ends- for the day at least. That means I took up one-fourth of my science honors class coming to that sum. It took me a fourth because before I got to that sum ,I kept thinking about random things like why scientists find a cure for cancer instead of asking what the little hole at the edge of a lollipop means. You could say my argument is unreasonable and maybe even invalid but that's me and hey- I'm a teenager and I'm wondering what that tiny little whole at the edge of a lollipop means. I also wonder why Cherie hasn't brought back my Walkman. I only gave her one mix tape of the songs I've been using to tune down idiots at the cafeteria. so I'm wondering why she hasn't brought it back yet. I hope nothing happens to it though. My Walkman is stupidly on the same level as my food.

"Joan"

"..."

"Joan- Jett"

Hysteric laughing.

"Yes?, Mr. Hill"

"Composing a song for your band, the Runaways, Joan?"

"Too old"

"Old but still a favorite, young Joan!"

"I'm more of a Smiths fan, thank you"

And then pure heaven came upon us and an angel rang the bell.

Haha Joan-Jett

Hey look, it's Jett!

Ch-ch-ch-ch- cherry bomb!

Ha. Cherry bomb, my ass.

Cafeteria, old English for hell. It's basically a nursery. Where people are too young to go to hell so they have to go to nursery which is here. So basically everybody here is a satanic demon.

A baby satanic demon, according to my assumptions. Which probably isn't because assumptions are theories said or thought and what I'm saying aren't theories, they're true. And they aren't said nor thought, they're like instinct burned or branded at the back of your head- or brain( I have poor decision-making skills on dialogue- if this is one, see?)

Well everyone except me. Me and that mysterious, guy who looked like he chugged two bottles of Glutathione at the corner of the cafeteria. People usually go here to eat but I go here and read books. And some of you might think, get a library. But then you dont get to eat at the library. But you get to read at the cafeteria--that's like, my two favorite things right there. Sure it's not as quiet, but thats why the Pet Shop Boys and a Walkman was invented--or earplugs. Either which is good.

I have friends, but I dont sit with them at the cafeteria, or at the bus, or at the Cherie's garage. Ok, maybe at Cherie's garage a few times. Its because they know I take those time to read. I never really knew when this all started, it was more like a silent agreement, or underwear. It was kind of like a tradition that they leave me alone. I'm not really gonna lie but sometimes I wish that they come to sit with me. Because I'm the only one with headphones and To Kill a Mockingbird on my cafeteria table.

Well not today, my Walkman is with Cherie. So I have to go with my Speedos gear. Which kinda sucks because I prefer 'Bad' than Speedos gear. Sucks, really.

And it sucks more because I feel like a total loner. Sure, I have my jokingly sophisticated equipment, its just that it feels weird not talking to someone in such a crowded and meant-to-be for talking place. Even weirder because i'm not the only one. Which is totally White-skinned-dark hair-and he's always at the corner guy's fault. Damn white skinned-dark hair -and he's always at the corner guy.

And its not like I seriously or heartachingly want to be alone all the time. I would wanna talk to my friends during lunch once in awhile, but they'd totally not be there. They eat lunch at the gym. Which is a question I have never figured out. Probably to watch Jim Thonson shoot hoops and stuff--and other jocks I dont even know. Whatever.

Anyway, like I was saying, its not like I want to be alone all the time. Hey, if he's always at the corner guy would be the only person actually available to talk to is, well--available. Then, I would gladly go to him and talk. Just to not be a loner.And because he's not bad looking at all. A little bit of everything, really.

But here's the problem, he--he's not the kind of person. You can't just, just like, straight up talk to him or something. He's--well he's not weird. he's just, the kind of guy you dont talk to. Like, he probably wont even talk for God's sake. And, well,

he's not normal.

Everyone should be normal here, everyone.

Well, because I try my best to be normal. It took me five years for someone to at least not write 'loner' or 'weirdo' on my locker. And i'm not going to tip the bowl and spill everything just like that.

Surprised? so am I. I thought everything was going to be absoloutly fine when I wrote my name on that damn enrolment paper.

I thought everything was going to be perfect.

Everybody and everything that set foot or has stationery mass placed on that concrete ground was going to be alright.

I thought everything was going to be pitch perfect.

ha.

Blood stained my lockers for months and anything else would be redundant. He doesn't even try to fit in. Its crazy. Big, not-sarcastic crazy. He drives me crazy. He's pale. Almost sickly--or grayish--or ashen. And he wears white. So its almost like he's naked.

Ok, maybe I'm overreacting about his skin tone. And oh yeah,

he always listens to music.

Not like me, he's like fucking Princess lea. He never takes his head phones off. Or he hangs it around his neck.

It was never bear. It was always closed up and stuff. I would want to see it, at least for more than five minutes.

His neck, I mean.

it's crazy how he's white. Everyone else in my school is black or tan. Some are fair, but never are they like, deathly pale like he's always at the corner guy. It's crazy.

he drives me crazy. He's a wallflower. A misfit wallflower.

And it drives me insane.