Survival in Sermont

Chapter Three

P.O.V.-Arson

"Why do you have to be so difficult, Arson?" My dad asks as I grip the front door handle.

"I'm not being fuckin' difficult," I snarl. "You're just pissed I don't wanna live with your never-present ass."

"Of course I'm upset son." He positions himself on the couch, leaning his folded hands onto his knees. "I don't want to see my son gone so soon. High school's not even over yet."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and turn around. My annoyance level is rising by the second. I breathe deeply, controlling myself before I do something stupid. He just doesn't understand. My father is away more than he is home. Moving out wouldn't make a difference.

"You're never home, dad," I say. I keep my back to him, afraid of what I might do if I don't.

"I know... but what about your cousins? They live not that far away," he asks as if seeing my cousins would help.

"They're fucking pricks, dad! All they ever do is gossip and bitch about their shitty life." My breathing becomes ragged and I have to fight to control it.

"What if I hire someone to stay at the house with you?"

I whip around at that, squinting at them incredulously. He is so dumb. I'm not friendless. In fact, I'm the exact opposite. Everyone loves me at school. I have girls dropping at my feet and boys jealous of me.

"I have friends. I don't need anymore."

My reflection becomes apparent in a picture on the wall. My eyes are dark with fury and bloodshot. This isn't getting good.

Father comes up behind me and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Then what do you want, son? I don't understand," he pleads softly.

I ball my fist to the point of having white knuckles. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'm going to school," I finally say after several minutes.

I throw my father's hand off me and walk away. Grabbing my keys and phones, I leave the empty house with the door slamming behind me.

I jump into my expensive black car. Speeding down the streets, I accidently run a few redlights. By the time I get to the school parking lot, my hands are shaking. Inhaling deeply, I lay my head against the wheel.

Why can't my father understand anything? I tell him every time he comes I want him to stay for at least a week. But he can't even do that. Instead, he leaves me alone in a giant empty house day after day. It doesn't help either that I don't have a mother. My father was a teenage dad, having me with some girl he won't tell me about at seventeen. The girl and he never married. Heck, I'm not even sure if they were ever even a couple.

I turn my head up and stare at the school, a yellow-brick building with randomly placed red bricks. Red trimmings line the yellow and cyan-tinted windows stand every few feet apart. Our school's mascot is the poison dart frog, which I think is lame.

Stepping out of the car, I stalk down the parking lot and into the school building. Students part for me. They're all scared of me, which I guess is rightly so. I've been given the title "school's bad boy". I don't see it. Sure, I play with fire, but what can one expect with a name like Arson. It's literally the crime of deliberately setting property on fire. The name came from my father. He wanted me to have a passion like fire in me, so he named me "Arson". Also, sure, I get in fights, but people provoke me. And of course, I jump from one girl to another, but... I have no real excuse for that. My grades are the one thing people can't argue about. They're actually pretty good, ranging from borderline A's to low A's.

Consumed by my thoughts, I don't notice where I'm going until it's too late. I pump into someone, bumping heads with them.

"Watch where you're going," I growl, balling my fist and glaring at the person.

"How 'bout you?" The person bites back, stepping dangerously close.

"Or what?"

"I've got two fists ready to swing," he threatens, getting even closer to the point of our noses basically touching.

I take a step back. I glance over the guy in front of me, surprise hitting me once I realize who it is.

The guy wears a close-cropped crewcut. Swirls carve out patterns on the sides and his bangs are cut straight. Gold aviator glasses sit against his golden skin and golden earrings pierce his ears. Matching jewelry adorn his neck, hanging loosely against his white v-neck.

"Don't you have studying to go do?" I snarl.

September Knight stands in front of me. This boy receives the highest marks in every class and never does anything wrong. All the teachers love him and students go to him for academic help. He's a good boy. He doesn't fight.

"Don't you got something you gotta set on fire?" He mocks me, smirking.

I grimace at him in amusement. He's got some nerve. Nobody tries to play these games with me. Who knew it'd come from the goody two shoes?

"You don't want to mess with me." I'm the one to step closer this time.

He gives me an amused smirk.

"You right." Our noses nearly touch again as he steps closer before he whispers, "You ain't not worth it."

He turns on his heels and struts away. I watch as his brown cardigan and white shoes walk away. I begin to follow after him, never one to let someone walk away, but then for once, decide against it.

Maybe I should keep an eye on this September Knight.