Waiting for the Sun

2. Nothing Like Us

I had seen her several times before today in exactly the same spot. She was leaning towards the shelf with that irritating lazy look on her face. What was she doing in my sacred space looking like something brought in from the street? As if she could hear my thoughts she swiftly turned around and exited through the library door and walked out in the crowded hallway. As the door closed behind her with a slight thud the comforting silence swept over me. I realised I was finally alone. My thoughts were all of the sudden crystal clear as I walked up to the 50-something films, all in the category H, and quickly found what I was looking for: the new and improved edition of The Birds was finally there. My hand reached for the treasure at the same time as the bell played its usual morning tune. After just being able to squeeze the film down without breaking its cover next to my heavy collection of textbooks, I ran out through the same door as the blow-up doll.

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The tray crashed down on the sticky table at the same time as I let out a muffled scream.

"Mr Morrison's an ass! B for that shitty essay seriously?"

My fist was aiming for the table but hit my fork instead. It dived to the floor where a piece of the uneatable lasagne severed yesterday waited for it with open arms.

"One B won't kill you Amanda."

My burning eyes met Kit's and it felt like my chest was going to explode all over her new top.

"Does Princeton, Harvard or freaking Yale accept people with a B average Kit? Huh?"

She was smiling from ear to ear and then she chuckled.

"B average? You're a straight A-student and always will be. Chill out."

I tried to find something eatable on my plate but with two slices of grey soggy meatloaf, potatoes that hadn't been cocked for more than two minutes and suspiciously green carrots it was a dead-end mission. You would think that for the obscene amount of money parents spent on this school, we could at least get decent food but perhaps that was too much to ask for. I should have known I couldn't talk to Kit about this, why had I even bothered? She never thought of her future with fear and hadn't even applied to any universities this year.

"Look", Kit said loudly. "Mr and Mrs Perfect are consummating their relationship again."

There she was again, that annoying posh kid with her number one entourage, her sturdy blonde that of course had an equally flawless complexion as herself. Everywhere you looked in this horrid sixth form these so-called "perfect" people, or plastics as we preferred to call them, ruled the halls and everyone in them. Mean girls and their fetching-language was a walk in the park compared to these people. Our group usually stayed below their radar, which basically meant we didn't even exist, but people who came in their way or more likely, someone who tried to befriend them without permission had nothing but misery to look forward to. There were all kinds of public humiliation and I think there's even some kind of black-list. Could they be any easier to hate?
     Now they were putting on a show where Mrs Perfect was straddling Mr Perfect with her tiny uniform, obviously home designed, showing off more than anyone wanted to see during lunch hour, while sucking on his face like her life depended on it. Complete normal lunch behaviour for the popular and gorgeous. How come they were so annoyingly predictable?

"They better use rubber. We don't want more of those do we?"

Kit and I had been so engaged in the live porn show that we hadn't noticed that Joe had snuck up on us.

"Don't count on it."

I looked over once more and now the demonstration had progressed. Blondie had one hand tangled in the streetwalker's locks and one was rubbing her boob. Inside her blouse. I hated to admit it to myself but if the streetwalker was me and blondie suddenly transformed into Ryan Gosling, or at least his identical twin, it would be seriously hot.

"He seems a little bit too eager", Kit said. "How long you think he'll last before he explodes all over the poor thing?"

Water came spurting like a fountain of spit out of Joe's mouth onto Kit's lunch tray.

"Watch the goods!" she yelled as she tried to avoid the waterworks.

Joe mumbled an apology and tried to swab up most of the damage still with a smile on his lips that was a bit too contagious. He wiped his mouth and winked. Damn those eyes were sparkly.

"So what's up?"

Before I had time to answer, an expected tap on my shoulder sent a jolt down my spine. Even my feet started to tingle before I turned around in my seat.

"Did you get it?" Jordan asked, looking like the personification of enthusiasm.

I nodded repeatedly and cleared my throat.

"I went to the library before class to be sure."

He wasn't really the conventional good looking guy with his brown curly hair, pale grey eyes and some pimples on his forehead and cheeks. He always wore his socks over his pants and it didn't help that he refused to replace his neon-green Pokémon bag pack even though it was literary falling apart. Still there was something about him that made my hormones go berserk. Ever since I met him at the library film shelf three months ago, where we'd had an hour long conversation about the brilliance of Tarantino, I knew I wanted to shag him senseless.
Under the mountain of crap I finally found the film in the bottom of my bag. When Jordan held it in his soft hands like it was a new born baby I swear I saw a hint of a tear in the corner of his eye.

"You have time tonight?"

Now it was his time to nod.

"I have history and some other stuff but it won't take long. Eight?"

"Sure."

He put the movie on the table and turned around without a word. I exhaled and laughed at the same time. I freed my hair from the tight ponytail and tangled it into a side braid with a ridiculously large grin.

"What do you see in that weirdo?"

Joe was staring at me as my smile grew wider by the second. He quickly ran his fingers threw his bouncy, dark, movie-star hair and sighed. Why did he have to be such a jerk sometimes? I guess you couldn't look like that and be completely sane.

"Don't call him that." I wanted to add 'jerk' but managed to demonstrate some impressive self-control. "He's just like us. A proper misfit"

Joe threw his fork aside and looked at his meatloaf like the repulsive thing was to blame.

"He's nothing like us."

In fact Jordan was just like me and Joe since he also had a scholarship to this shitty private school which meant that either you were brainy or you were poor. In my case it was both. I was smart enough and got into the school after taking the mandatory exam. This school would be my ticket into an extraordinary uni far away from this shithole just as it had helped my brother to get into Harvard medical school, even though I was obviously not close to his league. I knew Joe only had his dad around and barely any money to get by and he received the same scholarship as me after passing the exam with a higher mark than me, even though he wouldn't admit it to anybody. Jordan was a math genius who would probably end up at MIT but he had another year left before it was his turn to apply to universities.

"Don't be so PMS-y man!" Kit said and gave him her infamous deadly stare.

I decided to stay silent since I knew it wasn't worth it. We'd had this discussion too many times and honestly, I didn't care what Joe thought or said. I didn't care if Jordan was a weirdo because I was in love. At least I thought it was love. Well it was definitely, definitely lust. And a lot of hormones. Whenever I saw him I wanted to throw him on the nearest desk and play teacher's pet. I wondered how big his...

"Wake up lovebird, back to the cage!"

Kit's overly excited voice sadly marked the end of lunch and my dirty fantasies. Thursday meant two hours of history which meant double dose of Mr Morrison. I did actually feel a bit better about my B, at least for the moment. Maybe I could ask Mr Morrison for some extra assignments?