Outcast

02 - Talent

Louis POV

I was regretting my conversation with Harry almost as soon as it happened. What if he was just toying with me? What if Craig had planned this entire thing and Harry was just going to embarrass me in front of everyone? What if this was all just a joke.

"Mr Tomlinson!"

I jumped as my Math teacher hollered my name. I raised my eyebrow at her and she scowled.

"I asked you a question, but obviously you were off in la la land so that's ten minutes with me at lunch." She sneered.

I groaned while the class laughed. I already had detention with Mr Carpenter, now I have to add on an extra ten minutes? I was actually kind of relieved. Maybe by the time I get out of detention Harry will have gone and I won't have to put up with whatever shit he's going to throw at me.

Whether it be some sort of torture or just him smiling. Either one will kill me.

I dropped my head down on the desk and zoned out for the rest of the class. Maths was never really going to help me with anything in life anyway. I wanted to do something with Drama or Music. Maths won't do shit. Plus the teacher is a bitch. She hates me because a few years ago I put a thumb tack on her chair and she had to get stitches. It was funny at the time,  but obviously she didn't think so.

I groaned as the bell rang and the rest of my classmates filed out. Ms Johnson glared at me.

"So why did you think you could disrupt my class today Mr Tomlinson?"

I frowned, "I didn't miss."

"Yes you did." She snapped, "I asked you to answer the question on the board and you completely ignored me, causing me to stop the lesson to put up with you."

I rolled my eyes, "Miss Johnson, I'm very sorry for interrupting your class and I sincerely promise that I won't do it again, can I please go now?"

She smirked, "No . . . you still have ten minutes to make up."

She turned around and began wiping off the board. Ms Johnson was old with grey hair and glasses. No matter what her hair was always up in a tight bun. Me and Craig used to laugh about how we thought it was to hold her face up, but that's all in the past. She always wore the worst clothes as well, take today for instance. She was wearing a bright pink blouse with a very ugly flower print and a tartan skirt. Her shoes weren't much better.

Sometimes I think she just dresses like that to torture us students. I should report her to the principle. How are we supposed to learn when we can't look past the disaster that is her fashion sense?

I sighed and leant my head in my hands, my eyes trailing over to the window. I could see students outside, running around and being teenagers. I used to do that. Now I spent all my time in the auditorium. It made me think about how sad my life actually had become. I should be out doing normal teenage stuff, going to parties and getting shit faced. Sleeping with random girls and laughing about it the next day. I know it sounds like a jerk thing to do but it has to be better than this. It has to be better than being the school outcast who nobody likes because of one stupid problem. My mother used to tell me that being gay was never a problem, that she would accept me no matter what. But she didn't stop my step-dad from kicking me out. She didn't even try. And that's one of the things that hurt the most. I remember the day I had to leave so clearly. My mother was crying, staring at me with such sadness in her eyes that I almost believed she was upset. She had sent the girls around to one of her friends places so they wouldn't have had to watch me go. I didn't even get to say goodbye to them. But the thing I remember most was the cold, evil, somewhat happy look in my step-fathers eyes. He looked proud. Proud that he had finally gotten rid of me.