Lifeline (Frerard)

Chapter 2

I passively shuffled down the crowded hallways lined with white lockers and wandered to that of my own, clutching my things close to my chest and holding a tight grip on my coffee. I heard the warning bell ring, which aggravated me quite a bit.

Fucking bell. Shut the fuck up. I know I’m going to be late. Thanks to Lucas fucking Gray.

I set my coffee down on the unswept floor as I did my locker combination.

0…15...30

I yanked my locker open and did my quick, everyday check to make sure that everything was in its correct place.

Check. Check. Check.

Everything seemed to be alright. I unloaded some books from my backpack into their places in my locker and put some other things into my bag before I checked to make sure everything was in its proper position again. I slammed my locker shut and locked the lock before picking up my coffee and  rushing to my first period class. Science.

My footsteps ochoed through the desolate hallways. I thought over the numbers over the doors to the various classrooms they belonged to.

101… french...102...spanish...103...italian...104...german.

I went up the stairs that lead me out of the foreign language hallway and into another hallway that had a wide array of wooden doors.

200...art...201...photography...202...computer education...203...the computer lab that was open to all students...204… the library, and the biggest room on this floor.

I climbed up another set of stairs to the third floor, and opening the first door on my right.

Room 301… Science with Mr. Fisher.

Mr. Fisher was one of the most unpleasant teachers in this hell of a school. It’s not that his class was boring. I actually liked the material we learned and how we learned it. It’s just that Mr. Fisher wasn’t very nice. He liked to bully his students.He liked to call them names and criticize them in front of the whole class. How embarrassing.

He liked to pick on me most out of the whole first period class. He called me any despicable name from moron to idiot and everything in between. He loved to make me look bad in front of the class. He pointed out my every flaw and mistake. I hate him.

The worst part is that he always sided with the popular kids. I had very few friends, whom I barely saw throughout the school day, so Mr. Fisher saw me as an undesirable, which I guess I was. Anyway. He would always make me feel bad and make the popular kids feel good. Maybe that’s why all the popular kids always liked him.

I creeped into the room quietly, in an attempt to go unnoticed. My attempt failed. Just as I walked in, Mr. Fisher’s head snapped to send me his death stare that sent chills down my spine. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I knew his intentions. He was going to put me down. And I wasn’t ready.

“Mr. Way,” he acknowledged my presence. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you stop mumbling like a dimwit and take your seat.” He gestured his hand to my seat in the back of the class.

I dragged my feet as I walked to my seat, plopping down my backpack next to the chair and sinking into the seat. The light above me flickered slightly, giving me a headache. I wish it would just stop. It was making me irritable.

I pulled out my science textbook and the composition notebook that I had labeled “Science” in thick, black marker, and peered at the notes that belonged to the person next to me, Ray. He was really friendly and peppy if you got to know him, but if you were an outsider, you’d just think he was like the rest of our small, unimportant clan. We were the ones who didn’t fit in. We were the ones who had different opinions. We were the ones who took a lot of shit. We were the ones who nobody understood.

Ray and I have been friends since seventh grade, when our music teacher sat us down next to eachother. We talked quite frequently from that point on. One day, I offered Ray the empty seat next to me at lunch, and he took the offer. Since then, Dallon and Brendon had joined our group. Occasionally, they sat in separate seats from us at lunch, but they often sat with us.

I copied Ray’s notes until I was all caught up on the lesson so far. We were learning about calculating the speed of the object.

Distance over time…

And to find the distance you subtract the initial position from the final position.

I’ve always been pretty good at this science shit. I mean… it’s really not that hard.

“Mr. Way,” I heard Mr Fisher shout in my direction. I looked up from my notebook. “Can you tell me where the most logical reference point in this example is?”

“Uhm,” I sighed. “The front tip of the figure makes sense.”

“Provide your explanation. You’d think you’d know by now, genious.”

“Well,” I said as I examined the figure. “The front tip lands right on the ten meter mark. It’d just make the calculating a lot easier,” I explained.

“Hey,” he said sarcastically with a smirk. “The pinhead used his brain.”

I shook it off and rolled my eyes.

I know I’m smart. You, my friend, can shut your big, authoritative mouth, even though that wouldn’t help you at all, because you’re always talking out of your ass.

The rest of the class seemed to drag on slower than ever. We listened to Mr. Fisher blab on and on about motion and speed and different formulas. When the bell shrieked through the building like a banshee, the halls filled with students as they meandered to their classes. I began to make my way to my second period class. Math with Mrs. West.

302… another science class...303… yet another science class...304...an english class… 305… another english class...306… another english class...307… my math class.

I entered the room and sat through a grueling period of numbers and equations. I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, and by the time the class period was over, I had already drank every last drop of my coffee.

I need more. I need more coffee. I need it now.

I was going to pass by the lunchroom anyway, so when I reached the mostly empty lunchroom I scurried inside, immediately rushing to the run-down coffee machine. That coffee machine had been my savior for most of this year. I had been constantly making stops there to refill my cup in between class periods. If you ever saw me, I always had a coffee in my hand. If you knew me, you’d know that I always need to get coffee from the nearest machine whenever I run out. I always need coffee. Always.

I refilled my cup, steam rising from the liquid before I snapped the lid back onto it and took a quick sip. I had very little time to get to my next class by then. Art with Mr. Quinn in room 200.