The Sky Is F@#$ing Purple

Chapter 1: Surrender

"THE SKY IS FUCKING PURPLE!?!"

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I felt crazy. Even though I looked like I've just seen a ghost (for all I knew, I did), everyone else was only shocked at my reaction. Why me??? Why am I suddenly so special that I'm somehow the only one to witness THAT.

Let me... start at the beginning.

. . .

It was a normal day at first. My alarm goes off (Of course while I'm still halfway through a dream about being surrounded by thunder and lightning-like I'm getting assaulted by Thor). It didn't wake me up fully of course.

Then I heard my mother yelling out for me. "Jonathan!", my mother calls out, "Its time for school!". She always manages to wake me up, even all the way downstairs in the living room. I will never understand how someone can wake up and immediately watch TV. On an unrelated note, I grab my phone and charger and read through the notifications I received from my long-distance friends while I slept.

"Heh, 407 love reacts and 23 comments," I murmur to myself. One of my extremely effeminate selfies I took last night got pretty "viral" as my fellow Gen-Zs would say. "Maybe today won't be so bad".

EEEEEE. EEEEEE.

"The following message is broadcasted under the authority of the National Weather Service..."

I stand corrected. Fantastic. The National Weather Service scaring me to death again with that fucking noise. And my god, that awful text-to-speech voice. Probably breaking several laws and ignoring what ol' Glados over there has to say, I get dressed.

I throw on my overly-long socks, shorts, sleeveless black t-shirt, and boring black sneakers, and make my way to my table to throw on a little mascara. But as I'm applying it in front of my mirror with the precision of a surgeon (high on LSD), I nearly blind myself as I'm caught off guard by the radio.

"...hurricane, likely coming up the coast of Oregon and Washington directly after causing damage in McKinleyville and Cresent City, California..."

Camers, Oregon is just a couple miles away from the beach. That news worries me, I would hate hate hate to have to move. Though... the beach is pretty gloomy and rainy most days actually, maybe we won't even notice it.

With that bit of uneasiness out of the way, I trudged out of the house. The birds were over-excitedly chirping and seemed to follow the car. Or maybe there was just a ton, seagulls are absolutely everywhere here. Part of me always wishes that I could come out of a limousine and walk into school. Everyone's already gonna notice the kid with a name like 'Jonathan' walk into school wearing mascara and eyeliner, why can't I at least be cool while being starred at?

I'm pretty used to being the weird kid at school, I embrace it! Still, it'd probably be way more convenient to just pass along without getting gawked at constantly. Hell, I'd take being considered conventionally attractive over just being looked at.

Most people in Harriet Tubman Highschool are all talk. It's like our culture, talking shit to everyone who walks by. It's almost a right of passage. "Oh, you got roasted by popular-girl-47 and still come to school? That takes some balls". Though, after that hurricane warning, I doubt people would bother with it today.

I get to the top of the stairs and get a nice view of the school. The old library rots away on the east side, while the main school building is bursting with activity and voices over to the west. Right ahead of me is the office buildings, a modern strip of rooms furnished with fake plastic trees and motivational "memes" all over the walls. A jarring contrast to the bubblegum-encrusted floors of the main building.