The English Paper (Scomiche Fanfiction)

Chapter 2: Mitch Who?

Scott's POV

The smoke plagued my lungs, the acidity of the burn giving me a sick kind of pleasure. My mind became foggy and the stress of everything burned away with my pain. The
early-morning-snort was my favorite part of the day. Drugs lifted me into the clouds... they attacked my brain cells until they relaxed- until I relaxed. My breathing slowed and I laughed hysterically in the confinement of my bedroom.

"Firsssttt dayyyy of hellll," I slurred to myself, enjoying my 10 or so minutes of artificial bliss.

I stumbled to my bathroom and showered before getting dressed. The hot water eased me off my high, but a piece of it always lingered and kept me going in the mornings.

I put on a black and white baseball tee and slipped on light washed skinny jeans with tears in all the right places. I wore all black Nikes and a matching dog chain around my neck. Too tired and much too disoriented from my recent high, I towel dried my hair instead off blow drying it.

When, to a certain extent, it was dry, I gelled my golden blonde locks upward and slightly tilted the tips backward. I then scruffed up the hair on the sides of my head with my fingers in a massaging motion. After checking myself out one last time in the mirror, I took a deep breath- I looked good, damn good.

I sighed in ecstasy. It was starting- my Senior year. The last 8 months I'd have to spend in a public school with teachers watching (and judging) my every move.

That thought alone pushed me out the door at 8:20.

******

When I got to school, my usual friends were waiting for me. Their names were Avi and Kevin, both Seniors, and both mixed up in the same shit as me.

However,  I won't throw them completely under the bus. After all,
they aren't nearly as fucked-up as me.

They do the occasional high and usual wake up in the morning regretting it.

I get high twice a day at minimum, and I'm way past the point of regretting.

It's not like anyone cares, so why should I?

Anyway, I greeted Avi and Kevin as usual. I let them talk about whatever; it was early and I could care less.

Wait- I should stop you.

I know it seems like I'm a shitty friend, but I'm not. I'm real. Kevin and Avi are the only people I can stand talking to, and it's been like that since Freshman year when I found them smoking crap in an alley near school.

They gave me a hit, and that was it. I've been a lazy, drugged out, sure-to-be dropout every since then.

The 8:30 bell signaling class starting rang and interrupted my thoughts. I said goodbye to my boys and headed off to my first class, English, with the new teacher in the building- Mr. Tankem.

Room 249 wasn't dark, but it wasn't light either. More like unusually dim, considering the 10 gi-fucking-normous windows in the room. Everyone was gathered in the back, so I joined them and looked at what seemed to be the hollow crust of a person.

A saggy body with a small amount of shocking white hair stood in the front of the class. Mr.Tankem was about 4 feet tall and seemed to have a permanently unhappy look on his face.

"I'm assigning seats now, everybody quiet!" He yelled, even though we were barely talking in the first place. Mr. Tankem sounded like he was about to cough, but never did- it was an annoying voice, one that I wasn't so sure I could handle with a straight face for the rest of the year. God, I was already set up for failure.

"Zander Jacobs and Millie Baker here!" He pointed a bony finger at one of the twelve tables in the room.

Finally, the last table in the first row was mine.

"Scott Hoying and Mitch Grassi!" He croaked.

"Mitch who?" I said aloud. I pretty much new everybody in the Senior class, but I guess I missed him.

I sat down and looked into the crowd of people yet to be seated. There, a guy pushed his way out.

My heart fluttered and I didn't know why. I was going to sit with a reasonably short guy- he had the darkest, silkiest looking brown hair under a most adorable beanie. He had thick rimmed glasse, the color of his gorgeous locks- which, speaking of the matter, matched his large, mocha eyes too.

Wait- what am I saying?

Mitch took his seat next to me and huffed. Did he know who I was? Did he think I'd try to sell him drugs?

My heart sunk momentarily, and I was confused. Why was I sad? Normally I don't give a shit what anyone says or thinks about me...and this randomly adorable guy is making me regret it. Regret it.

And- did I just call him adorable?

The rest of class pretty much consisted of Mr. Tankem complaining about us 'rascals' and 'hooligans.' I ignored most of his garbage; for the entire hour, I sat and stared at the beauty that was Mitch Grassi.

He was wearing a slightly nerdy white shirt that was tucked in. But, his skinny jeans were perfect...kind of like his thin legs, and the way one of them bobbed up and down to the beat of some unknown song...

Ugh! Scott. Stop.

However, I did notice his unusually tiny feet. They looked like a size 5 in his Converse. I laughed internally- small shoes for a small guy.

In the middle of my ultimate stare-down on this "Mitch Grassi," the bell rang. I swiped my things and took one step towards the door when I heard a voice say,

"Stay away from me and I'll stay away from you."

I turned around to see Mitch giving me the evil eye. "What?"

"You heard me. My Junior year is mine. I'm gonna get good grades, have good friends, and not party and get all drugged up like you. So stay away from me," Mitch finally finished.

I could tell he definitely had sass no matter how much of a goody two shoes he was. But I blanked out after he said he was a Junior.
That's why I didn't know him,  he's a year younger than me.

Taking Senior classes.

Sweet.

Wait- not sweet. Totally, totally uncool.

"Alright," I replied, before leaning in and placing my mouth right on his ear. "But you'll be on your knees for me soon, Mitchie. Begging, calling my name. I know what you want, I know-"

Mitch shoved me away angrily, his face a lovely shade of pink. A broad smile split across my face.

Winking cockily, I turned around on my heel and walked out of the room. A foreign feeling was tugging at my chest, though. Hurt, perhaps? Rejection? My thoughts were scattered, but I did know one thing for sure: I wanted Mitch to like me... but how would I change his mind?

After my interesting experience in English, I walked to Geometry, with good ole' Mrs.White... damn she was old. Older than dirt.

I cruised into Classroom 203 and sat in the farthest seat from the front I could find. An hour passed and since I pretty much spaced the whole time, all I got out of it was a novel-sized syllabus that was supposed to be signed by a parent.

Yeah, right.

I threw that away as I walked out the door.

I headed through the hallway and noticed Mitch getting a drink from the water fountain.

"Stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you." His words echoed in my head.

Naturally, I walked up behind him and slapped him on the ass, winking over my shoulder as I, laughing to myself, headed for Biology. If he didn't want to like me, the only way I'll get him to talk to me is if he loves me.

So, commence the flirting! 1st period English is my new favorite class of the year.