Social Inadequacy

Chapter 4

I smiled at my new screensaver. I missed Bou already. School just got out and I was strolling back to my locker smiling down at my open-mouthed friend. I wasn't in any rush. I knew mom would call me when she arrived, she usually comes thirty minutes after the bell. The corridors were barren and I could only hear my steps.

I pulled my bag off my back and collected all the essentials needed to complete my homework this evening. It really irked me that we were given homework on the first day. Why punish us? The first day of school is a harsh punishment in itself. I rested my head on my locker, closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Releasing the breath, I grabbed my now full bag. I swung it on my back and started my long walk to the front of the school. Looking down the wide corridor, I thought about how this school year would go.

Would I go to my first high school party? Will I get "high"? Would I get my first kiss? I let out a snort. I don't believe any of those things would happen, they didn't happen the years before. Not to me anyway. I wish it would though but at the same time I don't want it to. I don't know what I would do with myself. Private school rich kids are always throwing parties. With parents who's work requires travel, it is pretty much a free pass to throw a soirée.

Though everyone is told about the event, not everyone is invited. Therefore, if you fall below average on the "popular" scale that means that you are not invited. It goes back to the social hierarchy. If you are average or above, then you have a permanent pass to all parties thrown all year round. If you are below average going to a party like that means you are asking to be harassed, bullied and ridiculed. I shivered at the thought. What I find quiet funny is the fact that those on the lower scale of the social spectrum are invisible in school. Though once they come to a party, they stick out like green shiny fly swimming in soup.

It is really hard to climb the scale, and really easy to drop on it. I remember Milana hall. She was one of the most beautiful girls in the school. The half Samoan anomaly had everything. The looks, the brains, the body, the wealth and the cherry on top,confidence. She was the it girl. She was "the" girl. Until she fell pregnant.

Pregnancy is a rare occurrence in private schools, and if it happens a private abortion is done or the individual leaves the school without any reason as to why, in both cases all evidence of pregnancy is removed and only rumours remain. Poor Milana actually believed her so called "friends" would support her. Surprise. They didn't.

I saw it gradually happen. First, they would all fake smile whenever she came to them. Then they began avoiding her leaving her searching for them in their usual hang out spots. Once she started showing it got worse. They stopped hiding their disgust. They moved away from her when she came near. They looked down on her when she managed to get close enough. Then there was that day, the one day they all left the table once she sat down. I remember how helpless she looked. Her glossy green eyes begged for her friends to stay I could see the fear in her eyes. Her quivering lips withholding a cry of desperation.

The day after that she came to school with her head low and her tail tucked between her legs. She looked defeated. Her hair was not its usual glossy burgundy, but a matted greasy brown. Her pink lips were ashen. Her tan face seemed pale. Her green eyes held no life. Milana hall was broken. She was broken down by the ones she thought were her friends.

After that day she didn't come back. She left and became another private school pregnancy statistic. Just differing by the fact that she actually came to school pregnant. That was 2 years ago. We never found out who the father was, though there where speculations.

Even though she didn't know me I still felt bad for her. Can't imagine Bou leaving me. He is stuck with me whether he likes it or not and vice ver

I paused my stroll when I heard steps. There where coming from one of my favourite rooms of the school. Room 204, the art room.

I listen till the steps came to a sudden halt. I didn't realise I was following the sounds till I was a foot away from the door to the art room. The source of the noise was in the room. Honestly, I was curious to see who was inside. The kids at this school waste no time rushing out the barrier that withholds their freedom. I on the other hand take my time, because I would rather not be trampled by designer shoes or shoved into people who I have no business being that close too...so who was in there?

It couldnt be a teacher because they had a "first day" after school meeting. The school grounds should be vacant of any life.

Though it may be the janitor. With that thought I turned on my heel and started my walk toward the doors of Sacred Rose.

I paused again when I heard a tear. I rushed back to the door as stealthily as I could. I placed my hand on the door frame, pulling myself closer to the opening. Then peeped, only exposing the top half of my face to the person inside. I couldn't see anyone. Moving forward till my whole face was exposed I craned my head to the left.

I saw the culprit.

Mr Pierce.

Clayton stood with his back turned towards me. Both his hands were placed in his pockets. His broad shoulders seemed tense and his attention was set on whatever was in front of him. His body hid the item. I tried moving my head left and right, the effort was useless. I still couldn't get a glimpse of what he was focusing on.

I looked at Clayton's frame again, even from behind the man was beautiful. The way he fits the boys uniform looks like it was tailored to fit him and him only. No one looked as good as he did in the uniform. In my opinion. His uniform was always messy yet put together.

I jumped when he let out a sigh. Pressing my hand against my chest I tried to steady myself. I didn't move from my position though.

He took both his pale hands out of his pockets, placing them on his side. His attention never left what was in front of him. He lifted his hands and placed them on the object. He lifted it and I almost tackled the boy.

He was holding up my artwork from last year. I was so proud of what did. The artwork took me a whole six months to complete. I insured that everything I found imperfect about it I made perfect. There was no part of that artwork that I didn't put my whole heart and soul in. It was one of the things that I am proud of, something I saw as a success. I got an A+ on my work. I was very protective of it.

My question is why in the bloody hell is Clayton holding it? And why is its corner torn? Someone needs to intervene before I kill this exotic creature before me. How dare he? What gives him the right" Aaaahhhhh!!" I screamed. He flinched.

Clayton had torn the painting in two. It felt like he tor me in two and not in the good way. He destroyed something I held dear.

I was too caught up in staring at the frame bearing two halves of what I felt was part of me to realise that two blue eyes were trained on me. "Why would you do that?" I whispered, my gaze still fixed on the two halves of what was once perfection. My vision blurred with unshed tears. I stilled looked at my broken artwork.

He was still looking at me. I didn't care, right now he was a criminal to me. A criminal who murdered a part of me. My phone buzzing took me out of my trance. It was probably my mother

I looked at him again, the building tears falling as I shifted my gaze. He was in the same position. He hadnt moved a muscle. He eyes set on me. All his attention was on me and he showed no sign of remorse...He just stared.

I blinked a couple times and left running. I ran towards the large doors of Sacred heart. Tears falling with each step. There was only one question on my mind.

Why?