Seeing Colors

Part 2: North West

THE FRIDAY SUN WAS AGGRESIVELY BRIGHT, and I think staying under it had already burnt a layer of my skin, and surely, people would think I just got off a tan job for the face or something, at first look.

          I was walking beneath the flames of hell for about twelve minutes now, yet no bus nor had any means of transportation passed beside me to rescue my very being. And as these fragile legs of mine started to weaken, my heavily wrecked soul had already done its part: it already freed its grasp from the powerful thing called hope - hope of getting to school in time, that is.

         I sighed; that sounded bad. I always sounded bad when attempting to be poetic. I was not.

          Breaking into a halt underneath a shade, I put my rather weightless-turned-overheavy backpack down the ground. I gathered my locks into a bun above my head and reached down to my backpack to get my cellphone. I was going to dial my friends, seek help, get a ride, arrive safely to school, and avoid dehydration, but I realized that my actual friends were not qualified to help me in my current situation - none if them could possibly be late for the good-bye day.

          Mumbling a foul word, I started to walk on my tracks again, tightly gripping the strap of my backpack and thinking of how unlucky I was.

        If only I had a car, or a motorcycle, or a bike, I wouldn't have walk under the summer sun, and suffer like this.

        A bike...

        Oh, wait, I do have one!

         I couldn't help myself, I had to squeal. At the pitchy sound I made, people flinched, and gave me death glares. Good thing I was too pissed to care, so I just returned the same look they were giving me, and carried on.

          I stomped my feet on the ground every time I took a step, and repeated to myself over and over again how much of an idiot I was. When suddenly, beside me, a blood-red Honda car pulled over. I stopped, too, as I realized the automobile was very familiar.

          I crossed my arms over my chest, staring through the car’s heavily tinted windows. Then, the driver’s window started rolling down, and an amazingly attractive boy appeared.

          The blond was wearing red Ray-ban shades with dark lenses, and just like those of cliché movies, he took it off with a flip of his hair, and flashed me a gorgeous smile.

          Austin Puckers was one of the popular guys in school. With the title of the latest homecoming king, Most Valuable Player in the junior men's basketball state finals, and a first string of the school's football team, Austin was basically that typical popular all-around jock everybody adored and liked.

       Now, before you hastily jump into conclusions, and think that he's one of those cliché characters, no, he isn't.

        Yes, he knew my existence - and of pretty much everyone else - and in fact, always acknowledged it. We greeted each other on the halls, made fun of our teachers during classes, and all those normal things buddies do. Besides, we kind of grew up together anyway, although not in that way.

        But since he was hot and all that, he was oftenly surrounded by fame-thirsting animals, otherwise known as the people I really didn't want to be with. He was also one of those guys who chose to be single, so whenever there was a chance, girls flirted with him. Any girl would kill to be his girlfriend. And mind when I say girls, because when I say girls, they're wild girls. The presence of those kind didn't attract me.

       Bottomline, he and I are friends, but not exactly.

          “You need a ride, Carter." He stated. Right, he stated. Not an invite, but more like a demand.