The Story Of Us ▸▸ Kellic

❥17

Hey guys! I posted a new book titled one-shots where I'll be taking requests/writing my own short story ideas. Please go check it out and read them(:

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I sat in my typeface design class on Tuesday, staring down at the almost blank paper in front of me. I bit at the pencil, begging my mind to start remembering what Vic said. No matter what though, I couldn't stop thinking about those kisses, and about him in general. God he's messing with my head.

I watched as some students were stapling their papers together. How are they done so fast? Did they memorize the exam top to bottom? I raked the questions again before finally understanding a few. If anything, a C is the best I'm going to get. But hey, for an all D and F high school graduate, a C is one notch higher. I'd be proud with a C; My mom wouldn't.

I sighed to myself as I thought deeper about the subject. I reminisced on the strategies that help you come up with answers. I worked some problems out in my notebook. My brain started to get back into gear; I was finally getting some of this. Maybe by now I can get a B. 

It took most of the class period for me to take the exam, which made me feel like the odd one out. Everyone else probably spent their weekend drilling for this, but me being me I didn't take it seriously in the end. Some people looked at me while I was writing which made me feel extremely misplaced. Everyone could go fuck themselves if they thought I was slow. I could've had this aced and done first if I would've spent more time studying.

Then again, I could be overly confident right now. Confidence has two sides; Confidence to yourself, and confidence to others. To myself, I'd say I'm pretty confident. Everyone else probably thinks I'm a coward or something. Or I'm dumb, but that one isn't a complete lie. 

Along with the bullying in high school, I dealt with a lot of detentions, principle visits, and flunked papers and tests. When I was a freshman, I did pretty good in school, but then I just went off track. Who knows why, I just kind of lost my place within myself. I stopped caring.

I used to be an example, and I used to try to make my mom proud. I used to pray a lot too, because I raised in a religious family. But after my father left, and everything took a turn for the worst, it no longer felt as if God was listening. Maybe he's here, I don't know. I just don't get the comforting feeling of satisfaction after I'm done praying. God could be here, maybe he's just not listening to me anymore. Could I blame him? 

When I finished the exam, I slowly trudged across the room and handed it to my professor, Mr. Josephs. He snatched the exam from my hands, looking at me slightly through his glasses. I've never been fond of him, he's extremely strict. Plus he's just an older teacher that seems to be cranky all the time. What I never understand is if you're that cranky and you can retire, why don't you just retire? No one wants to deal with a shitty attitude, especially kids who have to sit in their classes all day and put up with you.

Professors are just as annoying at the students are, and that's the bottom line.

I sketched in my sketchbook for the remaining time in the deadly silent class. That's new, usually there's kids chatting all around me. I smiled at the silence, finishing up a portrait I had been working on. The bell rung, so I rounded up my stuff before throwing it in my bag, ready to leave. Mr. Josephs stopped me though.

"Kellin," He called out, making me turn to face him. "Can I have a word with you?" He questioned. I nodded in response, slinging my bag over my shoulder before walking up to his desk. Mr. Josephs connected eye contact with me which made me a little uncomfortable. We've never talked one on one and I felt like I was in trouble. That was usually the case in high school.

"I saw you sketching in your sketch book after you took your exam." He stated.

"Oh?" I replied with, trying to think of something else to say.

"You're very good at drawing." He complimented. "One of the best I've seen around here in a long time." Mr. Josephs added on with a smile. No teacher, except for Mr. Ives ever smiled at me. A little awkwardly, I smiled back, looking away from his gaze.

"Thanks." I mumbled, wishing he didn't have anything else to say.

"Do you like art?" He questioned out of the blue.

"Of course." I answered as expected. Why would I attend such a nice art academy if I didn't love art? "Why do you ask?" I blurted out, instantly regretting it. I shouldn't question professors. Mr. Josephs didn't seem to mind.

"I know of some students who got in but really dislike the classes and art in general. It's shame this school isn't all filled with brilliant minds like yourself." He complimented again, making me a little uncomfortable. "There's an art club on campus, I suggest you go check it out. You get extra credits points and maybe you'll make new friends." My mind pondered the thought.

Maybe he was right, it wasn't something I should turn down. Extra credit points would be handy, and it'd be fun in general.

"Yeah, okay. When is it?" I questioned, glancing back at him. Mr. Josephs smiled before digging through some papers stacked up on the wide desk. He read over a few before handing me one. I took it from him before scanning the sheet. It was once a week on Sunday afternoons. Not bad at all honestly. "Thanks, I'll check it out." I confirmed with a lesser forced smile.

"Anytime, have a good day." Mr Josephs concluded, looking back down at his papers as a signal I should leave. I nodded to myself before hurrying out the door and down the long hall, almost colliding into a few other students. They gave me agitated glances.

"Sorry." I'd mumble when bumping shoulders with anyone. Hell, I probably said to anyone I just passed. My feet led me down a flight of stairs in the tall building before I was on the bottom floor. Hurriedly, I paced down the hall a bit faster, seeing it was less crowded.

"Woah, woah, slow down speed racer." I heard a familiar voice say from behind me before a group of footsteps was heard. I spun around to face none other than Brendon walking towards me. Another man stood beside him. 

"Oh, hey." I breathed, catching my breath.

"Hi?" He questioned with a scoff. "What's the rush buddy?" My heart beat evened out, but soon I felt extremely misplaced and it sped up again. Just the way he was talking made me a little uncomfortable. He was all nice and cheery and now he seemed kind of sarcastic and straight up rude.

"No rush." I replied with, trying to close the conversation.

"Oh sorry, this is my buddy Ryan." Brendon introduced Ryan, who gave me a small awkward wave and smile. I already liked him better.

"Nice to meet you. I need to get going, bye!" I called out before fleeing the scene. I heard Brendon chuckle to Ryan.

"Freshmans." He mumbled. A stabbing pain went through my chest. He doesn't like me, does he? I did what I shouldn't have done. I turned around and walked back over to them. Brendon quirked his eyebrows at me in confusion. "What do you want?" He asked, leaning against the wall. Why were they just hanging out in the hall?

"I don't know if you have something against me or not, but I don't want to hear about it. You were a freshman too one time ya know?" I blurted out. Brendon smirked at me, nudging Ryan's shoulder playfully.

"Look at him, standing up for himself." He mumbled, obviously loud enough for me to hear. I scoffed.

"What did I do to you? I met you and you were really nice." I admitted.

"Hey, I'm not mean. You didn't do anything." He replied with a smile before walking past me, Ryan following short behind. "But your little queer friend did." He added on in a small shout, chuckling shortly after.

"W-What?" I questioned, standing in my spot. "What? Vic?" Brendon and Ryan ignored me as I watched them walk out the front doors, dispersing immediately. I sighed. What does that mean?

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My brother just got home from Hawaii and he's moving to Dubai which is in another country sometime next week, so sorry if my updates lag(:

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