Charcoal veins

Chapter 4- Strawberry Shampoo and Female Company [Ezra's POV]

Ezra's POV

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MESH was so full of talent that I almost didn’t want to be here. Everywhere you would look there would be some kind of amazing creation hanging from the walls or sweet melody drifting through a corridor and filling up the school, although I had been looking forward to this for the past 6 months, it made me start to feel insignificant.  I was no amazing prodigy, like some students, I was just plain old Ezra James. Not that I would ever admit that to others, of course.

I had travelled all the way down from Manchester and spent a considerable time on the train, so by the time I had arrived I was pretty drained, especially as I had only known that I would be attending the school after a rather regal looking letter turned up at my door from the principal herself, Mrs V. Woodgrove.  I lugged my bags and violin case up three flight of stairs until I found my way to my room, that was situated at the end of the hall way. I noticed that the room door was plastered in random band posters and odd little comic characters and that the door number ‘032’was slightly broken, the ‘3’ loosely hanging on its screw. Inside sitting on a bed that was already covered in various items of clothing, I found what I presumed was my roommate, a tall and lanky kind of guy with a dark head of hair that had been roughly moved out of his eyes.

“You must be the roommate.” He had said extending a hand, which I shook “I’m Zeke.”

“Ezra.” I had replied.

Zeke nodded his head his eyes trailing to my bags, focusing on my case. “So what you play?”

“Violin. You?”

“Dude, so that means you listen to just classical music and shit? And I’m a drummer.” He said as he placed his drumsticks on to the foot of his bed.

“Sweet and no, I like other stuff too, I just happen to be good a playing classical music.”  I put my bags on the bed, dodging his already set up drum kit deciding that I should tidy up some of the room, clearly Zeke wasn’t one for cleaning. As I stood back upright, from bending down. And began to scratch my neck, I felt like I was being watched.

“You have tattoos? What type of posh-boy school did you go to?” Zeke laughed, pointing to his own neck, mimicking the place of one of my many tattoos, as I turned round, watching as he rolled his jeans up to his knees, showing me two eye tattoos, permanently inked onto his flesh.

I laughed and shrugged off my black anorak revealing my white holey t-shirt and inked arms, random little drawings and important memories stamped onto my pale skin. “Yeah, I have just a few.” I laughed “I have more, some on my feet, back, chest and well, you know about my neck.”

“It’s good man, but uh, why the ship? Didn’t want something more small maybe?”

“I’ve always loved the sea and ships. I swore that I was going to be a pirate when I was older” I lied, throwing my coat on to my bed, straightening out my Black skinny jeans and tucking in the black and yellow laces of my DM boots, the heavy soles squeaking against the floor.

As the bell rang, of which I was instructed was to tell us to go and get dinner, Zeke began to drum his hands against any surface he came in contact with, the peeling walls, large oak doors, paintings and even bodies, tapping people lightly on the head and some girls on their asses, earning him with either a wink or a bat of eyelashes. The boy had no morals. He decided to bang on one door particularly hard and started to walk away faster as he heard it open, trying to avoid whomever was behind the door.