In The Morning I'll Be Better// newtmas

2

Thomas' POV:

History seems to drag as I stare impassively at the images of Victorian England flash by in front of me. I do love history but we've covered the Ripper murders in Whitechapel so many times that I've memorized all the dates and names of the victims and where they were killed. Strangely, instead of listening, I think of Newt. How for the whole hour of maths, I swear I saw him glancing at me, though he had no reason to. And how a weird burning feeling of hate assaulted my stomach as I scrutinised him and his girly flirting.

Finally, after another twenty minutes of boring lecturing, the teacher turns the projector off and dismisses the class. I instantly jump to my feet and dash to the door, barely managing to pick up my bag before I move. I am the first out into the mostly empty corridor but that soon ends as a stampede of students blocks the passageway. I push through the mass of bodies, desperate to get to the lunch hall so I can eat.

Once there, I stroll up to our usual table: 'our' being the popular kids. Most of the time it is me, Minho, Teresa, Gally and Aris, plus a bunch of other kids that drink and do drugs. The assortment of loud voices and extreme personalities creates a dangerous atmosphere that I have to admit, makes me extremely uncomfortable.

"Thomas here has a new friend!" Minho laughs, suddenly gaining my attention and that of everyone else's on the table.

"Yeah? Who the fuck is that then?" I ask.

Minho smirks, "Newt the 'bad boy'," he says, creating apostrophes in the air, "Supposedly the most poorly behaved boy in the school and if you didn't think that's bad enough, he's said to be a real fuck-boy; will stick his cock in anyone that asks him to. And don't even get me started on the drugs and drinking!"

There is a chorus of laughter across the table and I force myself to join in but really, I have a feeling deep down that I want to defend Newt. Surely he isn't that bad and even if he was, no one deserved the kind of backchat he was receiving. Then again, I remembered the way he scowled at me and how he chatted-up the girl next to him. When I put what Minho said in perspective with that, then it was hard to not believe it.

"Do you think I want to be friends with that waste of space. Man, maths must have really messed up your brain." I retort.

Luckily, the conversation was put to rest after another burst of laughter; though Minho continued to glance at me, smirking, when the bell for the end of break rings. I quickly rush from the hall to get to my next lesson, which for me is incredibly unusual. I just desperately want the day to end so I can forget this whole Newt business.

Everything is fine until it gets to lunch. As soon as I step into the lunch hall after sociology I know something is going to go wrong.  

Maybe because our table is louder than usual and people are standing up and shouting.

That's when I realise my friend group are arguing. What the problem is, I don't know but I have a terrible headache and I want to sit in peace. I stare and listen to what the argument is about but I can't hear over the over-lapping voices and the thumping in my own skull.

I walk up to Minho but he's too busy shouting at Aris to notice me. 

"What's going on, Minho?!" I ask. He doesn't listen," Aris! Hello, either of you going to answer me?!!"

I wave in front of their faces and it finally gets their attention. Minho looks like he's glad I'm here to save him and Aris glares at me as if I'd just worsened the problem.

"Can you please leave Minho alone, I'm trying to talk to him," I say to Aris as calmly as possible.

"Piss off Thomas. We don't need your freak intelligence to sort this out."