❝HONEY❞
❚chapter twelve ; they're gonna fry you, Clifford❚
MICHAEL ROUGHLY coughed after he inhaled the thick smoke, slowly blowing it out into the crisp air and letting it swirl around him. The back of his red uniform shirt was beginning to dampen, as he was pressed against a large metal door that led back inside the building. He really didn't want to be here, but since he'd been skipping a lot lately, Ashton had told him he either 'got his ass into work, or look for another job'. Michael was seriously considering his second option.
Michael hadn't seen the need to smoke lately, so the cigarette he was currently using was stale, and tasted awful. He'd had an okay week, but something about today just made him roll his eyes and want to slam his head into a wall.
Earlier...
When he had gotten to school, he'd been optimistic about the day, Michael blamed it on a good weekend. He should've known that with Monday came stress and irritancy.
When he had plopped down in his first class - 3 minutes late, Honey and Jack were two seats ahead of him, doing their lovey dovey routine. Couples had always annoyed Michael, but as he watched the two holding hands and giggling, he could feel himself getting pissed off. His hands were clenched, and no amount of blasting pop-punk music could soothe him. Michael had even tried paying attention to what was happening in the front of the class.
He didn't know why it was distracting him so much, or why he was reacting so violently, but he was. I mean, why would he care about some skinny jock and a girl who ignores you?
His eyes kept drifting to her and Jack, who were holding hands and kept looking over at each other and smiling. Honey hadn't even glanced his way. She hadn't acknowledged his existence, no wave or glare. Nothing. It's like she had completely forgotten him buying her ice cream and driving her sick ass home.
Maybe she was finally listening to Michaels previous demands to fuck off. Problem was, Michael kind of wanted to be friendly with her now. She was a pain in the ass over the weekend, but Michael actually enjoyed himself.
The clock seemed frozen, never moving from its position. To pass the time, Michael took a black pen out of his backpack and started drawing on his hands. His hands were full of song lyrics, quotes, and little pictures. Michael glanced
When class ended, Michael hastily made his way out of class, shoving into one of them. He thought it was Jack, but he could honestly give less of a shit. He power walked to his next class, music blasting in his ears as he shoved the hood of his black jacket over his head.
He could feel his heart pounding and his eyes narrowing as he does trough the halls. He knew people were staring, whispering things about him to their friends. That only pissed him off more.
Michael walked straight past the door to his next class, and down the hallway to the nearest exit door. He continued straight out into the parking lot, too annoyed to react to the chill of early October.
Michael slammed the door to his shitty truck closed, making the entire car shake and creak with disapproval. He shoved his keys into the ignition and turned it harshly, speeding out of the school parking lot, just barely missing someone's car as he took a sharp turn.
Michael didn't know where he was going, but his heart was pounding and his knuckles were white. Sometimes Michael just got like this. He would have a huge fit out of nowhere. He'd get extremely aggresive and just have to leave wherever he was and be alone for awhile. That's exactly what Michael planned on doing. He drove for around 15 minutes until he was on some backroad. He spotted the lake that Ashton's grandparents lived near. He hadn't been there since he was 13, when Ashton and him spent a week there with his grandparents. That was one of the best summers of his life.
