Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner)

1 {live, die, repeat}

A/N: This is an OLD and incomplete version. I have a NEW IMPROVED and FINISHED version out now, so I'd recommend starting that instead of this, but you can read this anyways if you want!

The man frequenting my little tattou parlour, the Boardwalk, stands up. I put back down his black dreads and he smiles. "Thanks 'gain, Quinn. I love it," he motions his eyes toward his neck. Just gave him ink on the base of his skull reading 'live, die, repeat'. He has about a million tats on his skin, and slightly stretched ears. Tyler comes around my place alot. Says he likes the prices. But I don't give art for the money.

He rings the chime bell on his way out and I ask Chloe, the platnium blonde-punk chick to sterillize my needle, and close up shoppe in about two hours. I have to go grab my stuff. New school classes starts at four, which is late for University, but I had to find away from my job. Since I started the business a couple months ago, I need the profit to stay alive, and with this economy, I'd be glad to sustain myself on what little I get from the Boardwalk. 

I take a quick bus ride to my little apartment with a cold draft right when you walk in, and find some of my textbooks, stuff them in my bag and do a quick makeup check. My black waves fall dead to my shoulders. Same water-like blue eyes. Plain sloped nose, nose ring right side. I always add red lipstick before I go out, dark red matte. Suits me best, I guess, though I barely think of myself as nothing more than a dull human being that will slip into oblivion like everybody else will.  Anything's alright. 

The University isn't too far away from here. After all, I chose the apartment for it. I came here to get away from everything, form my dream business, and get a good career. Nothing else. 

So I don't mind the twenty minute walk. Once it gets colder I'll take the bus, but I don't mind walking in early August chill. What I am afraid of is that I've prepared for this since Spring, scared to start new classes. I know how Campus will work, but still, it's a new place and I don't know anybody. I'm taking English and Art, of course, basic Math, Bio, and Philosophy. Design studies. That's all I can afford and it gives me enough credits to pass the year. 

When I find the school, it's busy with students. I pull down my hoodie a bit to keep it from riding up. It reads 'The Strokes,' on the front, one of my favorite bands. Then I take a deep breath and make my way inside to find a counsellor, find the times of my courses, and walk around for a bit until it's four o clock. That's the time they told me to be here. 

* * *

After the boring stuff is over, and I find I have Art from four to six, then bio seven-eight, and a bit of Night School English eight thirty to ten. The next day has the rest of the courses. I decide to get to know Campus a bit better, and walk to find the garden. It's a small pond with boulders around it and an open space with people laying down and chatting. I make my way past some of the people but end up tripping. Because of course, somebody like me can't possibly walk around University without falling flat on my face. 

"Y'alright there, mate?" I hear somebody's voice ask me. British accent. I sit up onto my knees and see a guy's face with a short blonde cut reach out his hand. "Oh--sorry. M'lady." 

I chuckle, embarassed, and use his hand to help me up. "Thanks."

"Not a problem. You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" The boy tilts his head. "Oh. I'm Matt by the way." 

"Quinn. Well you might. I own a tattou place couple blocks back? Although you don't look like you could have a tattoo on you." I blow the hair out of my face and try to take some of the grass that rubbed on my hair off. 

Matt laughs. It's a friendly sound. He pulls up the sleeve on his shirt and it's a heart with the word 'mum' written on it. "I don't know what you mean by that, but yeah. It's pretty new, actually. Is your place called the Boardwalk?" 

"Yeah! You know it?" Wow, I could've sworn I've never seen the guy in my life. Maybe Chloe took care of it while I was in the back. 

Matt nods. "It's awesome. So what classes do you have?"

Ten minutes here and I've already met a friend. "Well, Art of course. Then I have bio later, and English. I take a few other classes tomorrow. You?"

"I have bio too. Seven to eight? Mr. Stockholm?" Matt asks hopefully. 

"Actually, yeah," I nod. 

"Cool. And wait--what teacher do you have for English?" He asks concerned. 

I brush my hair behind one ear, and I quickly check my page. "Somebody called... Turner? I think."

"Shit, you have the worst luck. First you're falling to the bloody ground then the next, you're in Turner's course."

I'm a bit alarmed. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Had him last year," Matt whispers. "The guy's a fooking' nutcase. Rambles too much. Rumour's gone round, he's a raging alcoholic and he disappears after teaching his courses, nobody knows where. He's only twenty eight. Who has a PhD when they're twenty eight? And he's rude 'bout it. I wish you luck Quinn."