Cool Kids

chapter 1: Lynn

In a suburban two story house, a young sixteen year old, fair skinned brunette boy was putting the finishing touches to his outfit for the school day ahead. His designer brand black and green sneakers went well with new dark washed jeans and a white and green polo shirt. “Lynn! You almost done?” his mother’s voice travels from the bottom of the stairs to his room.

 His hands go through his shoulder length hair, as he makes his way to the mirror in his room, positioned over his light grayish dresser, “Getting there!” he answers back, as he picks up a black rubber band that was carelessly just tossed on the dresser. He pulls his hair back into a low ponytail then wraps the hair tie around.

 To the outside world, Lynn seems pretty normal. His shoes always looked out the box, his clothes always matched, he would smile and greet almost everyone. His mom was kind and on the younger side. Though, it was just the two of them at home, her job was good enough to support them and then some. Him and his friends names’ were known around the school, in mostly a positive light. He was the poster child for cool teens.

 What no one knew was, when he was all alone in his room with just music playing, he would think; how cool it would be to pretend to be a ninja. He would wonder if running with your arms pushed behind you and unmoving would actually make you faster. He would never do it though. He would also think how fun it would be to use made up words that he would hear in cartoons, in public but he would never actually do that.

 He believed that would make him weird, and that wasn’t something he would want to admit he was. That would make people look at him differently, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to be accepted, and he was doing a pretty good job at being just that. He didn’t want to put his normal life into jeopardy. Keeping weird thoughts to himself was a small price to pay to continue to be thought of as normal.

 He grabs his plain black book bag then exits his room and takes a steady pace down the tiled stairs in his home. Waiting at the bottom is his mom. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m off, mom.”

 “At least try to eat something first.” 

“Of course. Of course,” he assures on his way to the kitchen. Out of the black steel fruit basket, he picks out a bright green apple and bites into it. “Done.” She rolls her eyes before shooing him out the front door.

Now out of the house, he walks down the seemingly vacant streets to his bus stop; the pale morning sunlight shining softly through the light fog. Up ahead, he spots a girl. She’s short. She’s probably barely over five foot. She has naturally curly pitch black hair that she has tied into a high pony tail, but the hair in the front she dyed green and flat ironed, having the now straightened hair framing her face and bangs somewhat hanging over the frames of her circular glasses. Her skin tone resembles the color of light brown sugar.

Lynn knows the girl. She’s been going to his school for the past year and living around the corner for just as long. Her name’s Demitri. At first glance, one would probably say she’s quiet and shy and most likely doesn’t have many friends. When seeing her with her only two friends, someone would possibly say they’re dopey, immature or, Lynn’s favorite, just plain weird.

Demitri and her friends are the kind of kids who run around, acting as if they’re airplanes, then pretend the plane is crashing and everyone on it is going nuts and killing each other before they hit the ground. They’re the type who break into laughter in the middle of a conversation, then tell you to go on with a straight face, when they’re done. Secretly, they’re what Lynn thought of being like and he admires how they’re confident enough to do whatever it is that they want, even though most at their school wouldn’t talk to them and some pick on them.