your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

one

I inhale in a deep breath, taking in all the oxygen I could as I close my eyes, clearing my mind. I release the air with a sigh and open my eyes again, looking at the cars zooming down the street as they go to work.

"You're ready to go?" I hear my dad ask from behind me and I turn with a smile, nodding at him. I had to pretend I was at least somewhat excited for my first day of sixth form. "Come on then, let's head off."

I step off my balcony, walking down to my father's slick, black car. It was one of his prized possessions that he had bought last year and he looked after it better than he looked after me sometimes. I open the passenger door, climbing in and shoving my more or less empty bag down to were my feet lay.

"Are you nervous?" My dad asks, starting some small talk as he reverses out of the driveway once we had both gotten our seatbelts on.

"I suppose," I reply with a small shrug, looking out the window, watching other cars drive by. "It's just like starting comprehensive school all over again, just the work is a lot harder."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," my dad reassures me even though he doesn't need to. "You're a smart girl, always focusing on your education. I have enough faith that you'll ace your exams."

I nod, looking down at my fingers as they fiddle together nervously on my lap.

"How are you doing at work, anyway?" I ask, looking back up at my dad who smiles. He loved talking about his work.

"It's good, actually," he says. "We're working on a new project with the manager of a football team at the moment. It's a big deal and will earn us a lot of money."

"Yeah? Which manager?" I ask, pretending to be interested about his work.

"The manager of Manchester City," my dad says. "I think I'm meeting him when I go to the meeting on the specifications for the house."

My dad was an architect, and he loved designing new homes. After he split with my mum, he designed us an entirely new home from scratch and got it built for us, saying it's a new start. It was a nice house, comfortable and it was very big. Sure, it was expensive and in the meanwhile we were scraping up money just to eat or stay the night at a hotel, but somehow my dad managed to keep a roof over our head and food in our stomachs.

We arrive at my school gates with ten minutes to spare and get to class, and I kiss my dad's cheek before he leaves to go to work. With a small sigh, I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk through the gates.

I ignore everyone, putting my earphones in and listening to any song I could get to first to drown out all the noise. People were excited and nervous to find out their new timetables for this year, while I just wanted to get today over and done with.

I arrive in tutor a few minutes before the bell. I had been in this tutor since I joined comprehensive school and it was even smaller since over half the students left for college instead of staying for sixth form.

"Morning," my tutor, Miss Samuels, smiles at me as I walk through the door. As usual, I was the first one here.

"Good morning," I smile back at her politely, sitting down at the back of the classroom and putting my bag on the table to hide my face. Soon enough, the warning bell rings and students begin filing into the classroom.

Miss Samuels takes the register before letting us talk amongst ourselves while she hands out the timetables. I sit by myself at the back, listening to music through my earphones.

I end up spending the entirety of homeroom reading over my timetable and figuring out who I had for what lesson. As soon as the bell rings, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder before racing off so that I'm the first person out of the classroom.

I arrive at my business class, smiling at the teacher as I sit down in a chair towards the back. Students file into the class one by one, some happy that Mr. Brown was our teacher and some groaning at him. He was the marmite of the teaching staff.

Once everyone's settled down into their seats, Mr. Brown sets up a PowerPoint which addresses the simple rules that we're meant to follow in the classroom.

He hands out exercise books and I turn over the purple cover and scribble the date down, ready to write down notes the entire lesson and pretend I'm retaining all of the information.

As he begins the lesson finally, the door swings open and slams against the wall. Everyone's head snaps over to the boy standing in the doorway, a note in his hand.

"Mr. Simpson, I'm glad you decided to join us," Mr. Brown says and the boy hands him the note before taking a seat at the desk next to mine and I hold my breath.

I had heard a lot about Brad Simpson, about how he drinks a lot and does drugs and he has a bad temper, meaning he gets in fights with people a lot. I had never really interacted with him before because he was eighteen, a year older than me. The only reason he's in my class now is because he was forced to stay behind a year for sixth form since he was suspended during exam season.

Mr. Brown hands him an exercise book to write in before carrying on with the lesson like it had never happened. I hear Brad huff and I look over to see him slouch in his chair, before glancing away and scribbling down some notes quickly.

The entire lesson, Brad never picked up his pen—not even to write his name on the front of his book—and I didn't question it. If he didn't want to be here, I didn't understand why he still came, especially since he could leave school at eighteen.

The bell rings and I grab my belongings, leaving my class to go to music. I glance behind my shoulder at the heavy feet behind me to see Brad's walking the same way with his eyes fixed on his phone in his hands.

I purse my lips, speeding up a bit as I round the corner to my classroom and I let out a sigh of relief as I walk in since I didn't have to be paranoid about the boy behind me. I sit down in my seat and glance to the door, noticing that Brad was walking through.

"You alright?" Mr. Phillips, my music teacher, asks as he spots me looking distressed and I tear my gaze off of Brad and to my teacher before nodding.

The lesson was slow considering it was introducing the rules, writing up notes off of the board and getting to know each other. I spent the entire lesson to myself, scribbling down notes and doodling pictures in the corner of my notebook.

The bell dismisses us and we all walk out of the classroom for our break. I had twenty minutes to do something worthwhile since I had no homework to complete and the library wasn't open at break.

Having no friends sucked, but I was used to being lonely. Even though I hated being sat alone in the canteen, or having no partner in science, I became accustomed to it.

I walk slowly down the hallway, students like me who were in normal day-to-day clothes and lanyards around their necks all grouped together in fives, while uniformed students stared at us as they leaned against their lockers, gossiping about everything that had happened already.

"Can you hurry the fuck up?" Someone snaps from behind me as I untangle my earphones. My head turns quickly and I see Brad Simpson glaring at me. There was no room for him to go around as the hallway became bustled with people.

I don't even mutter out an apology as he pushes past me and I knock into some students. I say sorry to them with a pathetic smile before scurrying off quickly.

A sigh escapes my lips as I realise one thing: this year was not going to be easy for me at all.

unedited.