Wanna Kiss Me Back? - NaNoWriMo Entry

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

                    Mitchel woke up in the morning covered in a cold sweat. While the dream was so vivid, the memory of that time was hazy when awoke; Mitchel could only remember kissing a boy named Noel at the camp. But that didn’t lend itself well to finding him. There must be hundreds of Noels in the country, maybe North American because he forgot whether he was American or Canadian (possibly foreign for all he knew), but he had never actually met one in Utica, New York.

                   He slid out of his bed, beginning his morning preparations to go to his high school, Reid Public High. He was still groggy and shaking from his dream that he tripped walking in the dark towards the light switch. His hands felt along the wall until the feel of dried paint changed to plastic, his fingers wrapped around the small piece and flicked it. The room flooded with strong light from the uncovered lightbulbs above his bed. Mitchel stood squinting, his eyes opening slightly over time as he adjusted to the newfound light. He walked over to the dresser with the large mirror that hit the low ceilings, avoiding the clothes he knocked off the bench in his blind stumble, and the books, papers, homework, and pens scattered around the room. It was messy but an organized mess, everything having a place and everything in it’s place, just on the floor. He stared at himself; his eyes were green today with small flecks of gold and brown scattered around the iris and a small ring of hazel on the outside edge, there were bags under his eyes from the restless night that had a slight purple hue under the beige skin, his lips  were thin and cracking with some pieces hanging off the skin that he picked off, his skin was smooth and still tanned from his vacation to the West Coast with his mom and dad before he returned to the army base, and his hair was sticking up in all directions but that would be dealt with later. He slept without a shirt nowadays so his chest was bare and he examined it, his eyes following the outlined muscles in his chest and the abs he had acquired from long hours of training. When he looked at his arms he was visibly discouraged, the definition was much  less than that of his torso and the muscles seemed small no matter how hard he worked.

                   He didn’t like seeing that so he turned away from the mirror looking for the uniform he had on the bench the night before. He had worn it the day before but it was still clean, despite lying on the floor that morning. He slipped on the simple white cotton polo with the word ‘Reid’ written in Red cursive over his left breast. His shirt was from grade nine still so it was a bit tight but he didn’t mind much, it started to show off his muscle. He slipped on the black dress pants and put on a brown belt, pulling his shirt over to hide the belt. He slipped into the bathroom, and began with brushing his teeth. He took some gel and styled his hair into messy spikes then went downstairs. He had just finished his breakfast and turned to leave when his mother was standing right in front of him.

                   “Jesus,” He exclaimed, putting his hand to his chest before dropping it, “what a nice way to greet me, scaring the crap out of me.”

                   “Sorry, I just wanted to tell you to have a good day. I heard you going downstairs. You should have woke me.” She said as she put the kettle on the stove to boil.

                   “I was planning on letting you sleep.” Abby turned to her son and smiled. “Anyways, I should get going. See you tonight.”

                    Mitchel ran out the door, grabbing his backpack on the floor of the front hallway and locking the door behind him. His mom wanted to drive him to school when he started but Mitchel preferred to walk. It helped him wake up to be outside in the bright sun, breathing the morning air that was always inexplicably more misty than the rest of the day, stretching his legs. Utica wasn’t a very big place and his school wasn’t to far from his house so he always walked the same way, passing the same cars who would now roll down their windows to say hello or talk to him at a stoplight. They were his neighbours, workers on their morning commute, mothers or fathers with their little ones in the car, they were friends. He always replied sweetly, asking about their days and letting them ramble on until they said their piece or had to go. He never minded if he didn’t get to talk about himself, he was happy to listen.