We're Not Sleeping, We're Just Dreaming (Waterparks fanfic)

One - Keon

The sun burned on the back of my neck as I trudged through the fields of long grass. Walked out of class, again. Excelled myself this time by leaving the school site entirely. I couldn't go back now. Would I be expelled? Maybe. Would I at least have detention? Most certainly, one after school at the very least. Fuck.
I turned around as I slowed my pace - nobody had followed me, at least not yet. Maybe they'd given up. I hoped they'd given up. I sighed as I took off my hoodie in the late-spring-early-summer heat, now that it was safe to do so. My arms were still red, angry, bits of skin barely hanging on, blisters forming over the burns from the box of matches in the bottom of my bag. I breathed a sigh of relief, finally comfortable and not sweltering to death underneath the fabric of the hoodie, the one I had owned for god knows how long and had been worn essentially to death. The gentle wind was easy on the cuts and burns, though reminding me of their stinging nature. I tugged at my rubber wristbands in boredom, before tying the hoodie around my waist and continuing my walk. I wasn't sure how long I would walk for - maybe to the next village and catch the bus home. Or not. Maybe stay out all night if I wanted to. It's not like anyone would have noticed or cared.
The familiar chime if my cell phone called to me from the bottom of my rugged and worn out backpack and I reached for it, throwing myself down next to the tree at the edge of the field, fiddling with my shoes with one hand, scrolling through my phone notifications with the other. I rolled my eyes - another email from my tutor that I had walked out of class again. Surely he was getting tired of these but there was an undertone of concern that I detected in his email.
"The door is always open, Keon. Take care of yourself"
I paused for a minute and sighed, adjusting my lip piercing with two fingers - he knew I wouldn't talk about it but I guess it was the thought that mattered. I ran my hands down my legs, pulling them closer to me. I fiddled with the tie dyed laces running through my worn black Doc Martens before moving to pull at the collar of my band t shirt, bored and frustrated. I watched the cars far in the distance making their way through the winding country roads as I fiddled with the straps of my chest binder, also reaching up underneath my t shirt to adjust it and pull it down. I laid my head back against the tree and breathed in the smell of the grass deeply, running my hands through my bright red hair, stretching and clicking my phone to display the time on the cracked and chipped display - 3:09pm. I could make it back in time for the bus from school, I told myself, as I reached into the pocket of my jeans for my bus pass and began the trudge back to school. Then I stopped, and pulled my hoodie back on - time to cover up. I get enough shit at school already.
I pulled my backpack straps further up my shoulders as I shuffled through the car park towards the bus stop, keeping my head down. Just three minutes until the bell and all would be fine. Nobody would remember tomorrow, surely, that I had walked out yet again.
"Keon!"
I stopped and rolled my eyes back in my head. The deputy head. Mr Barton.
"Keon, where have you been?"
I shrugged and kicked at the ground as I heard him sigh.
"I've been looking for you for nearly 40 minutes, Mr Lloyd said that you just disappeared from his classroom..."
"Yeah I guess I did," I mumble. "Surprised he bloody cared."
Mr Barton sighed.
"This is the fourth time this term...I'm going to have to call your mum to come and pick you up, we need a chat. This really isn't acceptable."
I made eye contact with him, though my fringe made this more difficult than I had anticipated. My mum was going to kill me.
"Is it really necessary? You know what she's like..."
He rolled his eyes at me.
"Keon, I've made so many exceptions for you and given you the benefit of the doubt...come on, Mr McKenna is staying late tonight so he can weigh in too. We have got to get to the bottom of this."
I sighed. At least my tutor would be there, though I doubted at this point he would back me up. I shrugged and tugged at my backpack as Mr Barton motioned with his arm for me to start walking to his office before following just behind me. I walked in silence - expulsion was probably on the horizon. And if the school didn't expel me, my mum would kill me anyway.
I swung my legs back and forth in the meeting room chair, the toes of my boots scuffing the carpeted floor. The door handle then clicked and Mr McKenna, tired and covered in paint, walked in - he looked me in the eye and sighed, before pulling up a chair next to me. He didn't have to say anything.
"...it just happened."
Mr McKenna sighed, and leaned back in the chair.
"Talk me through your head, your thoughts when it happened." He said.
I sighed, taking a deep breath. "The sudden overwhelming realisation that I am a number in the cruel system of modern education became immediately apparent in this stupid mathematics lesson."
He gave me the unconvinced look. "You didn't understand it, did you? The maths."
I stared at the floor, before mumbling a meagre  "no".
Mr McKenna picked at the paint covering his fingers - clearly he had been doing one of those "experiments" with the exam year art students, and I dreaded to see the state of the room when it was finished. I leaned my head back against the wall, my chin up high, because I could feel the ears welling in the ducts on either side of my eyes but I refused to let them fall.
"I think..." Mr McKenna began, "that we can just put this one behind us, hm?"
I breathed out a sigh of relief. No meeting with my mother. I wasn't going to get beaten to a pulp...yet.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"I'll speak with Barton but I need you to promise me, Keon, that we will talk about things instead of running away from school."
I nodded slowly.
"I know you find it hard and I'm proud of you, you know?"
I scoffed. "You're not my dad."
He looked me dead in the eyes.
"Well, I don't need to be your father to be proud of you now, do I?"
I shrugged and picked up my bag from where I had dumped it at the side of my chair, pulling my shirt down and ruffling my hair as I got up and intended to make my way to the door.
"Um, Keon?"
I turned back. "Yeah?"
"You still walked out of school. The very least I have to give you is an after school detention. I think I've been pretty lenient with you."
I sighed. "Yes."
He got up from the chair and made his way to the door to walk me to the isolation room where after school detention is held. Walking down the corridor, a few classrooms still had kids inside - after school clubs, booster lessons, meetings with students and their parents all sat in the deeply uncomfortable red plastic chairs. The winding corridor kept going, seemingly end,Essay, before we reached the isolation room. I rolled my eyes; here we go again.

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