"What the hell-" I started, being cut off by the intercom.
"Michael Clifford! Come to the Principal's office. Now." A male voice seethed angrily.
"Whose Michael Clifford?" I asked Noella.
She gave an amused smile, "He is the cause of all this," She gestured to the beautiful disaster in front of me, "Michael Clifford always hangs out with three other guys that you'll always hear people talking about and that you'll never see at lunch or free period."
I examined this extraordinary mess in front of me.
Spray-painted all over the lockers, the doors, the windows, even the ceiling-what is he, freakin' Spider-Man?- is a collection of words and a little drawing: We go together, or we don't go down at all☠
I looked to Noella, "Does he write those words there every day?"
"No, he writes a new sentence every day, with a new little drawing too."
"Hmm," I mused, "what do they mean?"
She shrugged, "No one knows. The random words are always so 'deep' and stuff, but only he and his three other friends know I guess."
I raised my eyebrows with a slight humor,"Oh really?"
"Yeah. Everyone thinks he's like a secret dark poet or something, but he sort of amuses us by making the teachers loose their heads." She ranted off.
I walked off with Noella with a slight amused smile realizing something.
On the contrary, there are actually only five people who know what those "random words" mean.
YOU ARE READING
So Called Random Words (Michael Clifford)
Short StoryMichael Clifford is a rebellious punk music lover in his high school. //Based on a short cute imagine I found on Instagram. By the way, this will probably make a little more sense if you listen to All Time Low, but if not I'll put a comment next to...
