Outcast

¤~Chapter 2: I Feel What I Hear~¤

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•Chapter 2: I Feel What I Hear•
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"Please see Ms. Loaress for further details... Ready to make friends this year? If it's too hard, break the ice with a candy gram! They will be sold in front of the cafeteria during lunch time, so act fast! Have a wonderful Monday morning!" The speaker cut off, leaving the class in a temporary silence.

The incessent chattering around kept me preoccupied, and distracted; although some of the things said weren't exactly pleasing to hear. I looked around the classroom -- making sure I wasn't being obvious I glanced away whenever someone turned their head in my direction.

I let out a sigh. It must be comforting to have friends. I wish I had someone close, because then it wouldn't be so awkward when the teacher assigned group work to the class, and I would actually have someone to work with. It'd be great since there's an odd number of students in the class, but even with that said nobody has ever asked me to be in their group.

The teacher chose a group for me to be in once upon a time, and the people in the group were really mad. They made up lame excuses by saying that there were already four people and that they already decided who was gonna do what. I was fine with what they were saying since I didn't like them much either. They made me do all of the work in the end, since they wanted to "get back at me".

I let out another long sigh, and just surrendered to putting my head down. Why is making friends so hard? Why can't it be as easy as one, two, and three? I guess the challenge is what makes it fun to have friends.

Along with those cherishable moments that everyone seems to make, whether it be on purpose or on accident. Even for someone as friendless as me, I have made a few of those moments myself.

My thoughts were interrupted when the door to the class slammed against the wall. I flinched, and tried not looking up.

Banging doors were never a good sign. Especially when it's at school. Everyone was silent for a few seconds before whispering again.

For once some of their conversations were slightly intriguing.

I could hear some people quickly talking about the person up front, because no teacher would ever slam their door. They care too much about their low-paying salary.

I could hear someone upfront say, "Oh. My. GOD. What are they doing here? Are they in our class? I think this might be heaven. We got the coolest boys--- scratch that--- men in our class! They're the Quadruplets!"

Something along those lines anyways, but that was when I tuned out. The Quadruplets. Who hasn't heard about them? Even someone like me knows who they are. It would be hard not to, since they're the talk of the school. For new transfer students, they sure do cause quite a commotion.

Slow and casual steps surrounded the classroom's low buzzing students. Guess they might be in shock, because they're gonna be in our class for the whole year.

To distract myself I began doodle while humming a low and slow tune. Somehow syncopating with the taps of the boy's slow moving steps. Scratch. Scratch. Scribble. Scribble. And repeat.

I was freaking out. Those steps were getting awfully close towards the back. WELL, DUH LILY! They're Bad Boys. The back seats are basically their trademark! Well. That and their dashing good looks. Not that I've seen them. I have yet to meet a single one.