Maybe, Probably [previously TARON]

CHAPTER ONE - Part 2 of 2

TARON CREDENCE, 19
Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.A.
28th January, 2040.

"Damn it!" I mutter to myself as I skate down the sidewalk at a speed that's probably too fast, trying to make up for lost time so that I don't end up late.

It's my first day back at that damn academy full of rich, self-entitled yuppies. I haven't even bumped into any of them yet and I'm already pissed off—

—"WHAT THE FUCK?! MOVE!" I yell, interrupting my own thoughts, as some blonde chic steps out in front of me up ahead, completely unaware of me coming down the path faster than a girl replying to a text from her ex. I fear that I won't be able to swerve in time.
In my peripheral vision, I see that she quickly turns her head to face me but she still hasn't moved out of the way.
My attention is now fully glued to a route that would evade hitting her, so I swerve my skateboard as soon as I can and before I know it, I've stupidly lost control and was now airborne.

Poof!

In just a matter of seconds, I find myself embedded in a hedge with scattered leaves slowly falling towards the ground here and there.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I scowl in complete aggravation.

I can feel my legs hanging out the side of the hedge of which I had entered. My hair is now a mess and I look even more shit than I already did before.

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" a posh British accent behind me says in a concerned manner.

It could only be that girl that stood there watching me close-in on my skateboard towards her and now inevitably, be staring at my ass hanging out of this plant.

"Oh yeah, I've never been better." I reply sarcastically, hoping that she would get the hint of how annoyed I am with her not being more aware of her surroundings.

If she had of been, I wouldn't be talking to her from a hedge. In fact, I wouldn't be talking to her at all. I'd probably already be inside the building. Seriously, 'Are you alright?'? What kind of question is that right now?
I lift my hand to my face to pull away loose threads of hair that were annoying my eyes and then I hear her laugh at my remark.

"Do you require assistance with getting out of there?" she says in a tone that implies that she's finding the view entertaining.

"Do you ReQuIrE AsSiStAnCe–" Is she serious?! Fucking rich people.
"No, thanks. Get to class." I respond sharply.

"Okay then... well, I apologise for not seeing or hearing you coming down the path earlier. I hope you're alright." And with that, I hear her walk off towards the school.

"Right." I scoff in a voice too low for her to hear as she leaves.

I worm my way back out of the hedge slowly, trying not to get caught or scrape myself on any of these internal branches. This day is already complete and utter shit. I'm definitely not looking forward to the hours of today that are yet to hit me in the face and fuck me in the ass.

I pick myself up off the ground first and then secondly, my skateboard. I let out a sigh and I can't help but my roll my eyes back at what had just happened less than a few minutes ago. I'm not gonna lie to myself, landing on the ground would've hurt, but landing in the hedge still hurt like a motherfucker.
The top of my head has a shallow pain, and so do other parts of my body but at least it didn't kill me, not on the outside anyway.

Jesus, I'm such a pessimist.

Glimpses of other students speed-walking towards the school got me thinking that I should stop dwelling and hurry up too.

I let down my skateboard in front of me and step up onto it, then start gliding towards the building for a few brief moment before lifting my skateboard once again in order to climb an unnecessary number of stairs. I repeat the process and skate down the shiny halls of this hella expensive building everyone holds with such high regard.
I ride through a sea of students, most of which, I can guarantee hate me, and well, the feeling's mutual. Fuck these people.

Whispers about me enter my ears as I skate ahead, but to be completely honest, I don't care, at least not like I used to.

"Mr. Credence." a familiar voice says as I quickly scoot passed.

"MR. CREDENCE!" the voice says again, but louder. It's my English teacher, Mr. Claymore.

"No skating in the school halls!" he adds as I ignore him, knowing full well there was nothing he could do about it except give me detention.
And so, I keep riding until I reach the board at the end of the entrance hall, with the results of last year's rankings on it.
I want to see the name of the student who has stolen my rank at the top while I was away.

I slide my fingers over the paper pinned to the board from the bottom, gradually gliding upwards. I like the anticipation of reaching the top, I don't know why, but I do.
It's just one of the weird little things about me, I guess?
The paper contains many names that I have absolutely no regard for, but I'm just hoping that the name at the top isn't some tool like Leyton, Landen, or Estelle.
If one of them took the top spot, then I'd know this damn thing is rigged. Those morons wouldn't even know the difference between shit and clay.
But, as my finger reaches the top of this list, it's staring me in the face, the top student has a name I don't recognize at all —
Taylor Bennett.

"Who the f—"