The ride home is short. No one really says anything, but I know that my parents are mad. I look out the window and dare to ask quietly, "can you turn on the radio?" A cold hard "no" answers my question. I keep staring out of the window and watch the man smoking a cigarette in the car next to us. He struggles to breath the smoke in. I wrinkle my nose.
As soon as we get home, my parents start yelling at me. "Why couldn't you just take the hood off?!" They knock it off. "Is that so bad?!" I slip it back onto my head and softly state, "it's a stupid rule." I walk past them into my room.
They argue in the other room for a bit before following me to my room. The door is open. "You can't wear hoodies to school anymore, Ryker. It's too much of a temptation," my mother says. I keep a blank face. My father speaks up in an angry whisper, "And you need to show some respect Dr. Kingsley." I'm still expressionless. They look at me for a minute before they leave.
I jump up and lock the door behind them. I pull a notebook out from under my bed and grab a pen from the deep pocket of my jacket. I pull my hood farther over my forehead and begin to draw. I draw three hundred pound fat man taking up the couch. Next to him, I outline the old man trying to smoke. A thin cigarette dangles from his mouth as he sucks in with all his might. I draw mom and dad yelling. And on the other side, me, with my spiky blond hair and brown eyes.
When I'm done I sit back and look at it. Leaning forward again, I draw the front desk lady at the front desk. Her big lips and chocolate skin. In the picture, Brooklyn leans in the doorway and looks at me. From far away, Mrs. Howell smiles her devilish smile. I stare at my drawing, then I rip it out, fold it, and put it in my pocket. As I do, I feel something else touch my hand.
I pull a tiny folded paper square out of my pocket. Suddenly, I remember the goth boy from the hallway this morning. Curiously, I unfold the paper. It's a note. Odd. *Dude, did you see Coby Hedrick in the hall today? Oh my freaking god. He is so weird. I was looking over at his test yesterday that mrs. Dawson returned. He got an F! He is such a freak."
I fold the note back up and put it in my pocket again. What's so odd about this Coby guy? I'm not sure, but I am going to find out.
YOU ARE READING
Forced
General FictionRyker Bulton is different. He's a square peg in a round hole. He's not shy, but he's quiet. Quietly rebellious, I must say, with an uncanny ability to get his way of things. He disagrees with the way schools run, but this is a mighty force to reckon...
