𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝔾𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 ➷ ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟

. 2 .

Dan's P.O.V.

I walk into my maths class just before the second bell rings- just in time.

I walk toward the back of the classroom and sit down in the desk in the corner. There are always empty desks in the back, and that's why I like to sit there. Nobody ever sits by me.

My leg hurt and was probably very much bruised.

I get my notebook out and open it to a blank page as the teacher walks into the classroom. As soon as the lesson starts I quickly get bored and start zoning out. I doodle little plants in my notebook.

I carelessly draw in my notebook as other teens answer questions, any information getting said completely whizzing by my brain. I never really cared for math that much.

Halfway through the boring ramble the teacher is on about, the classroom door swings open and in walks the one-and-only, Phil Lester. Everyone knew who Phil Lester was. He was the bad-boy punk of the school.

Phil was one of those punk guys who had tattoos all up and down his arms in sleeves and always wore a leather jacket. He had a dragon tattoo on his neck, along with snakebites, pierced ears, and a septum piercing. He was always wearing black and other pieces of dark clothing.

"Care to explain why your late, Mr. Lester?" The teacher lazily asks.

"Not really." Phil huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Take a seat." The teacher says back, sighing and gesturing toward the many rows of desks.

I look back down from the intervention and go back to doodling in my notebook. It isn't until I hear the chair under the desk beside me squeak against the floor as someone pulls it out.

I look up, slightly panicked, as Phil takes a seat in the seat beside me. I was surprised because of this, mostly being there was about three or four other desks he could've sat in.

As quick as I looked up, I looked back down. I was worried he would want to bully me or pick on me when class ended. Same as everyone does.

I can smell the faint scent of smoke wafting off of him. I'm guessing that's why he was late to class. Smoking some awful cancer stick.

I try to calm down by doodling other random things in my notebook, starting on a little flower field.

"You like flowers?" I hear a quiet voice say beside me.

I jump slightly in my seat. I was not expecting him to talk to me right now.

I shyly nod, wishing him to go away and stop leaning over toward me.

Phil hums in response and leans back in his chair. I side glance at him, seeing him pull his phone out of his pocket and start scrolling through some social media platform under his desk.

I turn my attention back to my useless doodles and wait for the next period to come.

Lucky for me, Phil didn't interact with me at all for the rest of the period. The bell rang and everyone stood up to leave.

I took a second to neatly gather my things before heading out of class, grabbing the homework from the teacher on my out.

Phil hasn't approached me at all yet. That was good because now my mind was calm and didn't think he was going to try and beat me up or pick on me. At least not yet, if he was going to.

That, however, did not mean other people weren't going to.

It was lunchtime, my least favorite part of the school day.

Most times, much like this time, I didn't even bother to get lunch. I would head straight to the library. The library would mostly be empty, aside from a few nerds reading or doing research.

I sat down on one of the couches- yes, our school spent money on couches for the library but not an art program- and took my book from the stack of items I was carrying in my hand.

I was currently reading "Raven Black" by Ann Cleeves. It was a really good mystery novel. I was captivated with it.

I lay across the whole couch, holding the book above my head.

What I didn't expect was to see Jackson for a second time today. He never came into the library. Why today?

He snatches the book from my hands with that stupid smirk of his on his face. I whine a little and sit up trying to grab it back out of his hands.

I stand up and jump trying to grab it out of his long arms.

"Oh, can you not reach your book? How unfortunate." Jackson snickers.

He then extends his arm out horizontally, which causes me to try and lean to get it back.

"Give it back!" I say to him, walking forward a bit to try and grab it.

He then sticks his leg out so when I stepped forward I tripped over his leg. My eyes widen as I fall to the ground, trying to grab onto the table beside me, but ultimately failing.

My head hits the ground with a hard 'thump' noise. My vision goes blurry and black in the corners for a second, before returning to its normal state. It wavers between blurry and clear for a few moments.

I sit up and rub my head in pain. Jackson had walked off once again. He had thrown my book onto the ground beside me, so I picked it up and laid it on my lap.

I put my head in my hands as I breathed in slowly and then out slowly. My head pounded as an awful headache came over me. My vision had pretty much cleared up, but I still felt awful. I hit my head pretty hard. I hate that I have this stupid disease.

I lean back against the bottom of the couch, not bothering to move from where I was sat on the floor.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, I didn't hear the bell ring- which signaled the end of lunch- over my pounding headache.

I didn't register the second bell signifying I was late either. I just spent my time sitting on the ground wanting to puke.

This day is probably just a single awful one of the many to come.