Life In Technicolor || Ashton Irwin

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Valerie's P.O.V.

Who are you?

A simple question, really. But staring at my paper, there's nothing that comes to mind. That's when the stunning realization comes to me. I don't know who I am. I mean, I'm a person, and I'm most definitely alive. I'm here, in this classroom, staring at the first question of an assignment that everyone else has finished.

I tap my pencil against the table, a terrible habit that I've had since I was a child. I always have to be tapping something. Not sexually, nope, not like that at all. I just need the white noise to keep calm when my anxiety levels are through the roof.

Maybe I can fill the answer space with characteristics. Things about me. Adjectives. While it's not directly answering the question, it could definitely work as a temporary answer while I go on a journey of self discovery and get in touch with my inner self.

I fill in the answer space with words that make no sense. 'Happy. Understanding. Relatable. Nice. Confident. Polite. Respectful.' I set the pencil down and almost laugh. I'm only like that at school. I mean, I'm generally a happy person, but no way in hell am I 'understanding' or 'relatable'. That's bullshit. But sometimes you just have to bullshit your way through things.

I fill out the rest of the paper and set it on the teacher's desk. She thanks me and I take a seat. She stands at the front of the room and gives us a genuine smile.

"Okay, now that I have all of your worksheets in, we can move on. I'll be reading all of them tonight, in hopes of getting to know you. We're going to have a great school year. Now, you must have quite a few questions about me. Maybe why I'm even a teacher. Why did I decide to be a teacher? Do I hate kids? Absolutely. But you're not kids. You're all teenagers. And I find teenagers intriguing. Half the time, you lie about things. Half the time, you don't. Your sleeping patterns are messed up, you're always in bad moods, and half of you don't even care about anything I'm saying right now. Well, I'll have you know, I'm not one of those 'cool' teachers. I'm nowhere near it, but I was a teenger too. I was in college two years ago. And that's where you'll be in a year. So if you think about it, I'm basically your age. I'll take into consideration my long nights of studying and falling asleep on books and not getting my work done when I grade your assignments, though I expect nothing less than your best effort. And I'll definitely be able to tell if it's your best effort. With that, I'm Ms. Jones. Let's have a great school year." She finishes with a smile.

I like her.

And I never like teachers. But she's young. Only a few years older than me. Her auburn hair is in a ponytail, even though she wears a nice dress. She can't be over 23. She has brown eyes, and a lovely smile. She seems like a genuinely nice person, and I feel like I'm going to enjoy this class. I can't wait to make some friends and tell them about her.

She instructs the rest of class and tells us that we'll be assigned partners. Our only assignment is to have a basic knowledge of each other by the end of the class period. She pairs us up and I look across the room at my partner.

He's got wavy dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. He's tall, maybe six feet tall. He's got a band shirt on, and black skinny jeans. Great. A band I won't have any idea about. Maybe I'll spend an hour learning about them. He looks over at me and gives me a small smile. I smile back. Ms. Jones lets us get into our partnerships. He walks over and takes a seat next to me. He sets his things down and smiles at me, dimples exposed, and holds his hand out.

"Hi. I'm Ashton."

"I'm Valerie." I tell him, shaking his hand.

"So, Valerie," He says, like he's trying out my name. "What should I know about you?"