His Paper Heart ✓

•12|His Overprotective Ass

NOBODY LOVES BEING AN OUTCAST. It's a feeling of helplessness and unending loneliness, unable to find your place in the world. I can't stand being alone. My brain seems to think I might have a heart attack and no one will come to my aid when I'm alone so I need people. But t's harder to make friends when you have life threatening diseases people think are contagious.

I slowly shut the door of dad's pickup truck as I hold my books to my chest, making sure not to drop them before waving at him. Didi and Heath are allowed to ride the school bus, I am not.

"Take care sweetie!" Dad shouts. "I love you!" I look at my toes and shake my head as I walk up the stairs to the double doors.

The hallway looks frozen. Everything - everyone looks stale. Usually, when I walk into school, the girls stare at me as if I'm a stray cat and the guys that think they're extremely attractive, will make jokes about how I could die if they take a second glance at me or wink at me, or just smile. They think it's funny, they think they're being sympathetic but they're suffocating me. It feels like coming back to school after doing something unrealistically embarrassing. It's depressing how they think one word they utter can end my life. I don't blame them. I have given them the pleasure of seeing me go into shock once or so. Twice to be exact, but who's counting. They're scared that I am weak. At least most of them are. Some of them would rather feed on this weakness and force me to do their bidding: homework, class projects. You know the boring stuff but then again, there's no bullying in BMH.

I keep my eyes on the black and white tiled floor as I walk down the sea of orange lockers. The color gets blinding after sometime. They couldn't have chosen a more cliché color to decorate our lockers. My shoes squeak as I walk, the smell of cheap aftershaves and perfumes, mixed with boy hormones from the locker room and stale urine curling from underneath the restrooms fills my nose. The hallway stinks. Despite Moondustries' effort to make this school the best, teenagers will still be teenagers.

I stop in front of my locker and exhale deeply.

"You look sad this morning."

The euphoric voice of a boy, similar to that of Gray Easton's says behind me as I open my locker. I hold my breath and I shake my head. What is Gray doing here? He is nineteen and free. I spin around to face him and there he is. Seven thirty something in the morning, wasting precious sleep time by coming to this prison they call school. He brushes his thumb at the side of his lips, his index and middle finger adorned with silver rings.

"Gray Easton, what are you doing here?" I question.

"I came to see your school. You said it was nice but eh. . .smells like teenagers," he answers. "Dumb teenagers, if I might add."

"Go away," I demand.

I have my reasons but it would be best if I rid myself of his judgemental ass for the rest of school hours. He squints his eyes, staring thoughtfully at the space between my eyes causing me to reach up and brush an imaginary wisp of hair from the object of his intense gaze.

"What?" I whisper.

"You're being bullied," he repeats.

"I already told you no. Will you please drop it and leave? Please?"

"You forced me to tell you a secret of mine and I did so you should know by now that one thing I cannot stand is abuse because of my -" he takes a long pause.

Parents.

"I tell you a secret, you tell me one of yours. It's how this friendship absurdity works. Now be a doll and tell me if someone is making you hate this place." he leans into me and I shiver from his hard gaze. He intimidates me on so many levels.