The Marked

First Day Of School

Looking in the rectangular mirror that hung above the white porcelain bathroom sink, I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair, tousling it up and throwing it back on my head. It fell in a wave down the side of my head, and I sighed again. Today was my first day of school at BrookRidge High, and to make it worse I had barely gotten any sleep the night before.

I'm what you might call "anxious", but most people never realize it. I tend to keep to myself and quietly observe others, rather than actually have anything to do with them. I was, for lack of a better term, a loner. Just one letter away from loser, and that's pretty much how I felt.

Looking at my reflection, I tried to see myself like the other kids would. Medium length auburn hair that liked to run in waves down my head, resting just above my eyes. Deep set hazel eyes that had small flecks of bright yellow stared back at me. People always seemed caught off guard by my eyes, as they're quite unusual. I was somewhat self-conscious of them, so I avoided looking other people in the eye. It's not too hard when you fade into the background.

I was what I would call "lanky", with a small frame, arms with tight muscles and a defined six pack hidden by my gray hoodie, strong runner's legs covered by loose fitting jeans, and a pair of uninteresting black and white sneakers to cover uninteresting feet. The only people who know that I'm in such good shape are my parents, and even then, they haven't seen the result of all my hard work.

I jog two miles each day, one in the morning and one in the evening, and lift weights and do other exercises in our basement. I'm not "jacked", but I'm what my parents call "fit." I suppose to some people, being in shape would be something to brag about, but I don't like the spotlight. So, I prefer being "lanky". It probably helps that I don't show much skin, other than my face.

Sighing once again, I look at my facial features. I have a small mouth with average lips, high cheekbones that lead down to a slightly rounded chin, eyebrows that started off as merely running atop my eyes, but then took a drastic downwards slope that pointed away from my face and down to my shoulders. As for the color of my skin, it was fairly tan, though it wasn't extremely pronounced. It was pretty much the standard tone for those of us in western Oklahoma.

Trying to swallow my anxiety, I left the bathroom and walked into my small bedroom. It held a twin sized bed that rested on gray carpet, a wooden desk, and a wooden chair with a pillow on the seat and back to give some form of comfort. The ceiling fan spun quickly overhead, cutting through the warm morning air that blew through my open window. The walls and ceiling were painted in the same tone as the rest of the house, which was a light creme.

So yeah, my bedroom looks pretty boring, but I liked it. It was easy to keep clean, and I didn't really need a lot of stuff. In fact, I only had two forms of entertainment: a laptop, which was currently closed and sleeping on my desk, and a forty-three inch flat screen TV with an Xbox 360 and two controllers. I'd only gotten it because my best (and only) friend Ryan had convinced me to. 

"Dude, I'm not gonna go run with you. Get a console so I can kick your butt and teach you how to be a good loser," he had said. Surprisingly, my parents had agreed to pay for half of the TV and  Xbox. It had hurt a little to pay the near one hundred and fifty dollars, but I had to admit that after a couple months, I was beginning to really enjoy playing games.

Shaking my head to focus on the task at hand, I grabbed my bag and opened my bedroom door, shutting off the ceiling fan as I left. Quickly walking through the narrow hallway to the stairs, I took them two at a time as I made my way to the kitchen, passing through the living room.

My dad was sitting down on the couch, dressed in his suit and ready to head to the courthouse. We shared the same auburn hair, but his eyes were an electric blue that would gladly meet others as he laughed and talked with people, always making people feel at ease.

I suppose that he kinda needs to be seen as friendly, working as a forensic psychologist and all, so that he can talk easily with criminals and make them feel comfortable to talk with him. He glanced away from the large TV that was mounted on the wall to watch me rush through the room, and I avoided his gaze out of habit.

"Hey," he said, and I stopped in my tracks. Glancing back at him, but staring at his nose rather than look him in the eyes, I waited for him to finish whatever it is that he wanted to say. "Don't worry too much, bud. Ryan has nearly all of your classes, so just stick by him. See if he and his parents want to come over today after they get off work to celebrate you living through the day, okay?"

Smiling, I nodded and once again began rushing towards the kitchen. "Thanks, dad!" I called out as he turned to continue watching the news as they talked about the weather for today. Once I passed through the open doorway and was standing in the kitchen, I took a moment to breathe.

The white tiles beneath my feet made slight sticking sounds whenever I lifted my shoes off of them, and the marble counters that lined the edges of the room boasted various fruits, like bananas, apples, and oranges, along with two boxes of Captain Crunch. Reaching into one of the many wooden cabinets that hung on the walls above the counters, I drew out a small bowl and filled it with the already opened box of cereal.

Opening the fridge, I reached in and took out a carton of milk, pouring some into my bowl before setting it back. Glancing at the clock on the wall across the room above the stove, I saw that it was only 7:20, giving me about fifteen minutes to eat. Opening a different cabinet, I pulled out a large glass and set it next to my bowl. I continued about like this for the next few minutes, rushing about the kitchen and getting everything I needed, before finally sitting down to eat my cereal. I had also grabbed a banana, and filled my glass with water.

For the next few minutes I sat and ate in silence, the sound of the TV barely audible in the background. My routine for school was pretty much the same as it had been in the summer, but instead of going to school I would have gone to work, mowing lawns and pulling weeds out of gardens. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I would rather be working right now that trying to mentally psych myself up for school.

Standing up, I rinsed out my bowl in the sink, and placed my glass in the fridge. Grabbing my bag off of the counter, I traveled back through the living room, where my mom now sat with my dad to watch the news, dressed in black slacks and a white blouse. Her black hair fell down to her shoulders, and framed her face. My mom had hazel eyes also, but we didn't share the strange yellow flecks. Those were unique to me.

She had met my father in law school, and after a few years of dating, they decided to get married. I came along about a year after they both graduated, so I had grown up to become independent, as they both worked long hours. She was a lawyer, and together they made a great team, and I was really proud to call them my parents. 

As I passed through the living room, they both turned and told me to have a good day, and I waved back to them as I stepped out onto our front porch. Breathing in, I steeled myself for what would inevitably come. The strange looks, the teacher saying "Stand up and introduce yourself," and the sick feeling of everyone's eyes on me. 

I knew how to fly below the radar, but it was impossible on the first day. Everyone would be trying to figure out the pecking order for our class, and I hated it. At least I had Ryan, and for that I was grateful. Stepping off our stone porch, I went to the garage where my mother's white sedan was parked, and found my bike. It wasn't anything special, just painted black with a brake on the handle, and a set of gears that you could set it in. I usually left it in the third position, and today was no exception.

Being fifteen, this was the height of mobility, but I enjoyed riding around on it. Pushing the kickstand up with my right foot, I moved it out of the garage, and then hopped on and began peddling to my first day of school.

-Hey guys, so this is the first part of "The Marked". Tell me what you think! I'd love to get some feedback, and I'll try to respond to you as soon as I can. I'm not sure when exactly I'll publish the second part, but unless something major comes up, it'll be soon! (P.S., I know talking about school during summer is forbidden, but this is a story idea I've had for a while, so don't hate me too much!)