"...faded out again, I feel the chemicals burn in my, bloodstream.."
Listening to Ed Sheeran's Bloodstream at dangerous volume levels is one of my many talents. Considering my obsession with listening to music at levels in which hearing myself think is next to impossible, my hypothesis is that I won't be able to hear sonic booms by the age of nineteen. I do not have any issues regarding my hearing to date but if I'm stuck in this town for any longer, I will. You see, I like to turn the music up until I can't hear the sad anymore.
If you haven't already guessed, I really hate my current residency. I live in Tusony, which is basically the smallest and most boring town to ever exist. It's a nice place to live if you're a fisherman or an elderly couple but, if you're an eighteen year old girl who likes Doctor Who just a little too much, it's not great.
The population of 10,000 people, two elementary schools, one highschool, five churches, six grocery stores, one local coffee shop, four bars, a music store, two gas stations, a registries office and a lot of boats is what makes up Tusony. Not to mention that everything seems to be painted gray and the only colorful thing in this town, as far as I'm concerned is the bay. In Tusony, there's Good Fox Bay, which leads out to the Atlantic Ocean and it's, as much as I hate to admit it, beautiful. Boats of differant type, size and purpose are in abbundance. The water is lovely, not to swim in but, to look at. The waves have a sort of subdued danger to them. More life happens at the bay than anywhere else in this place, between the fisherman telling jokes and swearing, litterally like sailors, to the children playing with their toy boats on strings.
Anyways, that's about it. I got to the highschool here and it's my last year, grade twelve should be fun. I get to get out of here. Well, sorta. Basically, I'm eligible for an academic scholarship to Oxford University, it's kind of my way out. I want to become a writer and all that fun stuff.
But first, I have to do today. I'm currently driving to school in my baby. No, I'm not driving an infant to school. Ha, ha, ha, I think I'm funny sometimes okay. But anyway, my ''baby'' is a Subaru Impreza 2014. And yes, I payed for it myself. But wait, how could a highschool student who probaby works for minimum wage afford such a new and expensive car? Well, I do work for minimum wage but I work for my dad at his law firm. I file papers and go for coffee runs, but I've been doing it since I was fourteen and didn't spend a cent of my money for four years. So ya, that's how I payed for it. Oh right, I forgot to tell you about my parents, my dad owns a law firm an hour out of town and my mom is an artist. I don't know how they ended up together either. My dad's name is John and my mom's name is Minerva. Again, I have no idea. My dad has tame blonde hair and blue eyes and my mom has straight auburn hair and these crazy green eyes. I look a lot like my mom, but with more shadows.
Anyways, I've just pulled into my school's parking lot and I can already feel sets of eyes on me. I don't dress for attention and I certainly don't ask for it but people seem to enjoying staring at me. I quietly push through the hallways, trying to get to the office. Move faster, stop screaming, please don't step on me. I get to the office to get my schedule and look at the classes I have.
Honours English Language Arts, Chemistry 30, Physics 20, Honours Social Studies, Math 31
Oh right, that's why people stare. I think that I fit the criterea for nerd by definition. I'm like a walking target for insults. Maybe it's the long dark red hair, Sci-Fi t-shirts or how shy I am. I tend to not talk very much or at all, depends on the day.
As I walk in my first class of the day, I keep my head down and find a seat at the back. As our teacher, Mr. Hershey, who's hillarious by the way, started of the lesson, a hurricane of color burst through the door.
"You're late." said Mr.Hershey flatly. The hurricane of color was actually a person, a guy to be exact. The hurricane of color didn't day anything, just ignored the teacher and tried to sit down.
"Oh no you don't, you can't just show up late for my class and expect to get away with it. Come up here and tell the class your name."
With a sigh, mister hurricane of colour got out of his seat and strided to the front of the class. My god he was tall. 6'4 at the least.
"My name is Fritz" Fritz stated. He had dark brown hair, dark blue eyes and dressed like rainbow. He had on a bright green polo shirt, jeans and bright yellow Vans, untied.
He dressed like he wanted the world to see him and moved with purpose. Oh God this kid is going to get punched.
After surveying the classroom, his eyes fell on mine. An eye contact that should've lasted five seocnds lasted for thirty. It was like being starred down by a really tall brightly colored cat.
"So, Fritz, you're new to this school and town, correct?"
"Correct."
"Well, why don't you tell the class where you're from then."
"I moved here from New York City a month ago." The whole class fell silent. He was a city boy, a rare specimen. I'd been to New York City twice, but the people here haven't met anyone from the city. Ever.
The bell rang and the rest of the day progressed how it always did. Slowly, but over quickly. At lunch I went to sit down at my usual table, I didn't necessarily have friends, just people I fit in with. The smart humans. Just as I was about to eat my blueberries, Fritz strided across the cafeteria, only to trip on his shoelaces and a shower of chocolate milk fell with him. His green polo shirt now resembled a swap. The enitre caffeteria errupted in laughter. No one went up to help him. I'm going to regret this.
As quickly as humanly possible, I ran to help him up and tugged him by the forearm out of the cafeteria to the girl's bathroom.
"This is this girls bathr-"
"Shut up."
"Ooh, red head's fiesty.
"Shut up."
"Is that the only sentence you know how to say, red head?"
"Shut up."
"If I'm the most handsome, sexy guy on the planet, say shut up."
"No. Now how still while I clean your shirt."
Grabbing some paper towels and dampening them, I started to clean the chocolate milk out of his shirt, trying to not make eye contact.
"So, do you have a name, red head?"
"Jennifer."
"That's your first name, what's your full name?"
"Shut up, you're moving too much"
"Okay, it's nice to meet you, shut up."
"Shut up."
