The Locker Diary

Chapter 4 - Bad Boy Meets Enchanting Eyes

 Ryan POV

         As I walked into English (which I got stuck with Mrs.Reid, a.k.a the spitter), I felt all eyes burning into me. I guess you can say I had that effect on people (especially the female population). I was already used to the fact that the guys idolized me and the girls worshiped me.

            Sometimes I do have to admit that it gets frustrating being Ryan Wilkinson. I feel pressured and stressed all the time. My parents expect A plus grades, school clubs, volunteer work, and a scholarship for football. My friends expect me to be a party freak, get drunk, and take us to the state championships. And everybody else expects PERFECTION. Sometimes I feel like screaming at everybody, yelling at the top of my lungs! Perfection does not exist! It’s a myth. But nobody understands the concept because TV does a pretty good job of hiding the inaccuracy of perfection.

                I took my usual seat in the far back corner.

                Just as the bell rang, a girl walked in the doorway. She was your typical average girl. She had long, wavy, brown hair, and wore those combat boots every girl seemed to own nowadays. But there was one feature that intrigued me. Her eyes. They were filled with uncertainty. I couldn’t figure out the pigment. It’s like they are a little of every color. Are they icy blue? Emerald green? Golden brown? No. It was like a mixture of all of them put together, but it was a more intense color. It was like watching an action thriller movie, the ones that have you on the edge of your seat, like a cliffhanger. Suspenseful. Maybe that was the word that described her eyes. I must admit God used his paintbrush well to create something so beautiful.

Holy shit! This can’t be me! Snap out of it Ryan she’s just another plain girl.

“Ah, yes,” Mrs. Reid started, as I finally returned back to reality. I realized that I had been staring at the girl profoundly, which was indeed sickening. 

“This is Emily Porter, she just moved here from the big N.Y.C,” Mrs. Reid said.

“Hi,” Emily said shyly.

“Miss Porter choose which ever seat you’d like,” Mrs. Reid said with a pleasant smile.

        I knew there was evil behind her smile. Mrs. Reid was criticizing the new girl’s move. If she sat in the front row she was a nerd, the second row meant a B average, preppy girl who was a popular cheerleader at her previous school, the third row means C average, which meant an average loser, and the last row was a D or F average, which meant typical badass. I think she’s more of third or first row type of person.

        I could see her struggling to make a decision. You would think Mrs. Reid asked her if she wanted to pull the plug on somebody’s life and end it. Damn…the waiting was brutal. Someone just be nice and invite her to sit. I refuse to be that guy because I’m the ‘bad boy’. You know the one that doesn’t carry any emotional feelings inside.

She is eyeing every seat. At last, she made a decision. Thank the Lord. But boy did she take me by surprise.

She walked past the first row, past the second row, past the third row. What in the hell is this girl doing? I eyed her curiously as she took a seat in the last row, two chairs away from me.

The entire class was in shock (including me.)

Mrs. Reid gave a disappointing look, as if she already knew this girl was trouble.

Maybe the chair system isn’t the best way to judge how someone is. I mean none of us know her, but then again the chair system has never failed.

Were we wrong about that girl?

For some reason I felt inclined to her. It was as if a magnetic force wanted to pull me towards her, I on the other hand, was doing everything possible to resist.

 Emily POV

        It was barely first period and I already realized that I didn’t like this school. After I walked in and took a seat, everyone stared at me like I had just risen from the dead. I know I’m pale, white as snow, but damn it’s not my fault. Blame genetics and my mother, for making me look like a character from The Walking Dead.

        I don’t understand why Mrs. Reid keeps staring at me in disgust. Just minutes ago she was being lovely and polite, but it was all bull s-h-i-t. I guess I must've given her a bad vibe. I tend to do that to many people. I’ve had a seat on the school bus, all too myself, for six years now. Nobody has ever asked to sit there, not even when there were no other seats available. If it’s not because I give out bad vibes, then it’s definitely because I stink like shit.

        I just can’t wait for this day to be over. Not only am I bored, but I am also starting to think that I am not safe here. This school seems to be filled with a lot of judgmental people, just plain rude people, and psychotic stalker-like people. From the corner of my eyes I can see the guy, two chairs down from me, staring at me. He looks like he’s analyzing, trying to figure which category from society I belong in. He must definitely be the typical jock, bad boy (for sure he has the good looks.)  

        I am not usually a sociable person and I usually don’t confront people, or stand up for myself, or say anything my mind is dying to say, but today I felt like I had to. This boy is driving me insane. He's been staring at me for ninety minutes straight. Not once did he look at our judgmental teacher, not once did he reply to the blonde in the third row, that kept sending him provocative expressions, not once did his eyes wander off. Honestly if I do not tell him off I swear my mind will explode like a piñata and out will burst colors of red, blue, green, and black. Colors that will define the emotions of confusion, anger, nervousness, and rage I am feeling!

Ding-ding The bell rings. Finally.

        I looked beside me, ready to chew the stalker's head off, but he was gone. The stalker boy was already halfway out the door. Oh, hell NO! He wasn’t going to leave until I gave him a piece of my mind. I grabbed my backpack and dashed towards the hallway. He was opening his locker.

        I walked up to him. “Excuse me, but who in the hell do you think you are?” I asked, angrily. He turned around and gave me a mischievous smile. “I do not appreciate you staring at me like I’m some piece of meat being displayed at a butcher shop. I do not appreciate you staring at me like some complete lunatic, if you’re a serial killer planning on kidnapping me and rapping me, just please do it now, I do not like surprises," I finished, breathing heavingly. 

        “Ms. Emily Porter, sorry if I offended you with my staring,” the boy said, with an amused smile. “Don’t worry I am not a killer, a kidnapper, or a rapist, he said, “but even if I was a rapist I think I’d pick victims that actually have sexy qualities.”

Ugh!! Freaking douchebag! He is definitely the bad boy. My anger has risen through the roof! I  already began planning his murder in my head. 

 “As far as the staring goes, I was not staring at you, but at the poster behind you that has Megan Fox, now she has sexy qualities!” the boy said, with a smug look on face, like he actually thought he had won. Boys and their egos. 

I was about to rip his head off with venemous words, but in a blink of an eye  he was gone, leaving me stranded in a deserted hallway. 

Crap! I'm late for second period!