chapter 02 // m.c.

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by -joyfulreverie

by -joyfulreverie

“Back at school, they all thought I was an outcast, car crash.”

* Michael's POV *

Black is my favorite color. I wear black as much as possible: black skinny jeans, black t-shirt, black boots, black leather jacket. I would dye my hair black, too, but that seems too predictable; instead, I dye it bright lilac purple. Some say I walk around like a black cloud. Others take my black as a cue to stay away from me, which I don’t mind that much. People say that wearing black makes me emo, but that’s not true.

The truth is, I’m just a reject. An outcast. Michael, the weird guy with the purple hair. And I like it that way.

No one pays much attention to me, and I don’t pay any attention to them. It’s pretty fair, if you ask me. I think their stares, whispers, and haughty glances my way are all the attention I need.

I walk into the cafeteria at school, and kids steer out of my way. I swear, if I was in a car crash they wouldn't care. They treat me like, well, a reject.

Yeah, I’m just a reject. Nothing special. That’s no secret.

I get my food and go find a table, heading to the corner furthest from what’s called the “popular table.” I spare a quick glance towards the table, and spot Luke, a boy whom I guess you could call my nemesis. He sees me look at him and glares, and I just roll my eyes in reply.

There’s an empty table in the corner by the window that I go sit at. Normally no one sits over here, but today there’s a girl sitting at one of the empty tables. I’ve seen her around, but I don’t know her name. Melody, maybe?

I pick a chair at a table adjacent to hers, sitting so that I can see her face. She’s actually kind of pretty. All I can remember about her is that she doesn’t often speak up in class, she used to be friends with one of the cheerleaders, and she’s really shy.

As I eat my lunch, I keep glancing up at her. I hope she doesn’t notice me staring, I don’t want to freak her out. I do that to too many people already. Needing something to do, I pull out my beat-up leather songbook. I play guitar, and I spend a lot of my time at school writing songs or jotting down ideas for songs – even during classes.

After a few minutes, I finish my lunch, and when I look up, I see that the girl is finished, too. Suddenly she looks up at me, and I smile and wink at her. She blushes, nad I chuckle to myself as I gather up my stuff and leave the table.

As I head out of the cafeteria, I see her writing in a notebook, kinda like I do. Wonder if we have anything in common? Us two rejects. Though I wouldn’t quite call her a reject, but kind of, at least.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna try and talk to her. Maybe us two rejects can become friends? Because even though it’s not a secret that I’m a reject, that doesn’t mean I can’t make friends. And every reject just really needs a friend.