Write Me a Cliché

Chapter Two

~RAENI~

Eight Weeks Ago
Holy Wood High School

It was physically exhausting and mentally damaging to walk the halls of Holy Wood High School. Stark white walls stared back at me helplessly, as if begging me to help give colour to their lives. My hands itched by my side and I resisted the urge to cover the bare walls with graffiti just like the back wall outside the school had been coated. I turned my back to them, unlocking my grey locker. With a sigh, I pulled off my backpack and stuffed my winter jacket into the locker before grabbing the necessary books I needed for my first two periods.

I was late for first period, but I took my time with my books, surely in no hurry to torture myself in biology. While pulling out my textbooks, a black envelope slipped out of my locker. When I picked it up, my brows drew in, a frown on my lips as I read my name written in gold on the front, RAENI AZIZ.

"Maybe it's a secret admirer," I mumbled to myself, slamming my locker shut. In one arm I held my textbooks and in the other, I twirled the note around my fingers. I knew I was kidding myself with the idea of an admirer. No one liked me and I blamed that on the way I purposely dressed to avoid attention.

"I doubt it," a voice called from behind me. A gasp escaped my lips and in the process I dropped my books and the letter. I turned around in my spot, ready to scream at the person for creeping up behind me, but I stopped when I realized who it was.

Baylor Tegan, the school's notorious bad boy, who refrained from talking to anyone and everyone, spoke to me. I had never been so close to him. He made sure no one got too close. Talking to him- wanting to be his friend was like seeking warmth in the cold, unforgiving chills of January that always brought along seasonal snow storms. Anyone with a sane mind knew, Baylor was anything but welcoming and kind. Since tenth grade, rumours about him had spread like fire due to his eerie behaviour and his uncontrolled anger. One rumour had it, back in tenth grade, a student left the school because of him. I was unsure if any of them were true, but I never dared to get close enough to really unravel that mystery. Really, it seemed rumours had a base of truth to them. 

There were some people who believed the reason Baylor didn't talk was because he was mute or that he had a squeaky voice. Clearly, that was incorrect. He had a beautiful voice, the tone just the correct amount of deep and honeyed to lure one to listen.

Now, he stood in front of me, almost a head taller, dressed in his black leather jacket and dark jeans with a black shirt underneath. His tan hands dug into the pocket of his jeans, hazel eyes on the envelope on the ground instead of me. Under the fluorescent lights in the hallway, I could see the specks of orange and green in his pale hazel eyes. I glanced down at his shoes, because they were one of the most important factors in defining people, noticing that he wore a pair of Nike Air Max 270. If I could, then I would buy a pair of Nike Air Max 97, but still I admired the ghost aqua colour of both the soles and the Nike symbol, while the rest of the shoe was white. The stitching was a coral stardust, a perfect bind for the two other colours.

Compared to his, my pair of plain black sneakers looked like they belonged to a pauper. In a sense, they did.

"Don't ever creep up on me!" I shouted, then pressed the front of my black hijab to my mouth, surprised at my outburst.

"Don't ever shout at me," he snapped, barring his teeth like an animal. I stepped away from him in fear.

"Sorry," I apologized. His lips quirked up into a small ghostly smile before it disappeared and he shook his head, like he was pleased to see that he terrified me.