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Chapitre Un:Timide
High school hallways are usually very crowded after the last bell rings. For most people it’s considered kind of annoying, since it makes it harder to get out of the school and that is, after all, their goal. But for Ashton it was a blessing, since in large crowds it’s very easy to go around unnoticed.
To his dismay, this was in fact not the end of the day but the bell for fourth period, and he’d have to hurry to class if he wanted to get there at all. One wrong turn in a seemingly empty hallway could cost him his money for lunch tomorrow…among other unpleasant things he’d rather not think of.
Turning the corner to get to the staircase, he knew at once that this was not his day. He screeched to a halt, face to face with Wray Franton, one of the many people who absolutely terrified him. The boy in question was dressed in his usual Punk clothing, spikes all over his jean jacket and sweatbands, leaning against the doors, blocking it, with two of his friends at his sides who were dressed in similar attire.
Despite the way they looked, this group had never actually done anything to him. But adding another bully to his list never seemed like a good idea, so he generally avoided them.
“Hey there, Goth-kid.” Wray sneered but didn’t move.
The comment wasn’t exactly accurate, but Ashton had brought it upon himself. His wardrobe was completely black; shirts, pants, shoes…hell, even his underwear was black, not that he’d share that with anyone. He also wore a bit of black eyeliner to make the bags under his eyes less noticeable, but he didn’t need very much due to his extremely thick and long eyelashes. His hair was black too, bringing out his strangely colored eyes. They’d started out brown when he was a child but had eventually grown paler and brighter until they’d become a rosy hazel shade.
Ashton made a small sound of acknowledgement to Wray and stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the door. This was the fastest and therefore safest way to get to class. Maybe if Wray just moved a little…
“Move it.” A powerful voice behind him commanded, and Ashton spun around in shock.
Standing behind him was a boy he’d never actually met but had seen around school every so-often. He didn’t know his name either, but he was fairly certain hardly anyone did. In this school everyone had a nickname (or many). Ashton was “Goth-kid”, Wray was “The Arcader” since he practically lived in arcades, and this boy here, they just called him “Linkin Park-Guy” or “L.P.” for short. It was easy to see why.
L.P.’s shirt was green and black with one of the Linkin Park CD cover pictures on it, though Ashton had no idea which album it was. His pants were grey jeans but sewn and ironed on them were various emblems of the Linkin Park logo in all shapes and sizes all over the material. His olive green and black toque also bore their logo on it in red stitching, the hat covering his dyed bright green hair that went about half-way down to his shoulders. He even had bright red contacts on his eyes. He also owned a skateboard with the logo on it too; Ashton had seen him skateboarding with his friends in the park on his way home almost every day.
Other than that, this boy was pretty much a mystery to everyone. Except for the rumors about him sending a kid from another school to the hospital. Ever since those rumors started circling about two years ago hardly anyone dared approach him. The expression he wore day in and day out distinctly said “get out of my face” in a remarkably calm way, which made him very scary indeed, especially to someone at the bottom of the social food chain… like Ashton.
And right now he was less than a foot away from this tall, intimidating person. Fantastic.
To the black-haired boy’s relief, however, the command was not addressed to him but to the three other boys. For a moment no one moved. Then, just slightly, a sour faced Wray edged to the side and L.P. marched forward and shoved past him, throwing the door wide open. Not wanting to miss his only chance to get to class on time, Ashton darted through the opening and into the stairwell, launching himself down the stairs past L.P. at full speed.
“Hey, kid.” L.P.’s commanding tone called him before he reached the last stair.
Freezing, gripping the railing, Ashton turned a weary head, looking up above him at the green-haired youth.
“Y-Yes…?” he stuttered, making tentative eye contact.
“Those guys just like to think they’re cool, they won’t actually do anything to you if you ask them to move out of the freakin’ way.” L.P. stated as he thundered down the steps, “So just pretend like they’re not there next time.”
L.P. passed him and flung the door open, stomping through.
“…O-okay.” Ashton muttered to himself quietly, appropriately shocked, releasing his tight grip on the railing as the bell rang. “Ah crap!” he bit out as he rushed down to hall to the classroom.
He made it into class just in time and collapsed into his seat. After a few minutes class started and the teacher started scrawling in chalk all over the board, but Ashton was having a hard time concentrating on his Calculus class.
He was too busy trying to figure out just what kind of a guy this “L.P.” character was.
Overall it had been a pretty good day. In fact, Ashton even felt a little inspired. As he walked he pulled his sketch pad out of his black saddlebag along with his freshly sharpened HB pencil and looked around for a place to sit.
He wasn’t worried about his foster parent wondering where he was. Julianne knew that he didn’t always come home right away, but he always came back before dinner if he could, otherwise he gave her a call in advance.
Spotting a flat chunk of architecture a little ways off the ground on the side of the building he’d been walking alongside of, the small boy plopped himself down and brought up his legs, leaning his back against the cool cement wall and using his legs to hold up the art book. He put the tip of the pencil to the crisp, unused piece of paper. He already knew what he was going to draw. There was only one thing to draw when you were sitting beside a skater-park.
It was a small park, it only had a few ramps and the terrain itself was fairly short, but the few bowls they had were pretty impressive, even if the paint was peeling everywhere. In fact, this part of the neighborhood was pretty run down in all its aspects. But as for this almost ugly little park, it held a sort of worn out charm to it.
“Kind of romantic, like the ruins in Rome…” Ashton thought to himself as his hand began to move on its own. “It’s only become so damaged because it’s been loved to death.”
As his pencil traced the curves of the skating dish closest to him, the small boy watched with mild interest as boys he recognized from his school practiced or performed impressive stunts consecutively. It wasn’t that crowded today. There were three boys that had the bowl nearest to him all to themselves. He wasn’t surprised to notice L.P. was one of them, and to recognize the other two as his skater friends he sometimes hung around with, but only outside of school.
Ashton was struck with an idea for his sketch. As he watched L.P. do a really complicated stunt flawlessly, he began to draw furiously, trying to capture the fluid and rapid movements. They were entrancing.
Ashton was not a very athletic person by nature. He was clumsy and had no hand-eye coordination, and he had a hard enough time walking in a straight line, let alone keep his eye on the ball or anything like that. Thank God that was over. Grade twelve was just a bundle of blessings wasn’t it? Except for the fact that the bullies got bigger too, of course.
Many kids were stressing about University and College and about their marks right now too, but Ashton wasn’t worried. His marks were always high and he’d saved up quite a bit of money from various summer jobs, plus he’d applied to tons of scholarships and had gained early acceptance from the University he’d been aiming for. And unlike most of the other graduating students, Ashton didn’t have to worry about all of his friends moving far away and all that. Can’t miss what you don’t have.
It hadn’t always been like that. Ashton had been close friends with a girl in grade eight, her name had been Jenna. But his foster brother had liked her, and became jealous of their friendship. It wasn’t long until the fake sibling had sabotaged his delicate relationship with his foster parents and they’d sent him back… he never saw Jenna again. He didn’t even have her email.
Of course if it hadn’t been for that he’d never have met Julianne, his current foster Mom. She was every foster kid’s dream; sweet, understanding, a great cook, and she grew attached easily. He’d realized after living with her for only a month that he would never be sent away, and it had been the most wonderful feeling. The only problem was that Julianne was very busy, and lately Ashton hadn’t been able to spend as much time with her as he used to.
At this point there were five different sketches all over his page in various sizes. He was slowly shadowing a drawing of L.P.’s toque when he got the distinct impression that he was being watched. He slowly raised his head. Standing right in front of him and none other than “Linkin Park Guy” himself, looking down at him with that eerie calm stare, skateboard tucked under his arm, towering over the small and seated boy.
“You again. You come around here often?” L.P. inquired, his voice monotone. His voice made Ashton jump.
Almost ten seconds had passed before the bright-eyed boy had felt capable of answering. He was taking in L.P.’s appearance, the second time that day of ever having been this close to his classmate.
L.P. was a pretty attractive person. The type of dangerous guy half the school had a “secret” crush on. He had slightly pursed lips, making him look a bit pouty as if he were never impressed by anything, and his left eyebrow was pierced. His face was boyish and he had well toned and slightly muscular arms from what could be seen from his sleeveless shirt.
“…Um…Uh… y-yeah, I come around here s-sometimes…” Ashton stuttered finally in a small voice, eyes wide as saucers. People only ever spoke to him to demand things or to threaten. He was sure a threat was on its way, “But uh, I k-kind of sit around all over the place, just to draw, y-y’know?”
He tried his best to keep his voice level and casual. So far so good. His eyes were skipping all over the place; sidewalk, skater dish, passing car, pigeon, sidewalk again…anything to avoid eye contact. He found it hard to hold someone’s gaze while speaking to them…it was like they would see into his soul or something…
“You an artist? Let me see.” L.P. held out a demanding hand and reached for his art book.
“Ahh…!” Ashton only held back for a second, looking up at L.P.’s red contacts, then looked away and relented, letting him take the book. He didn’t want to get beaten up over this. He tripped over his words, trying to form an explanation, “I-I was just sketching whatever was i-in front of me and you were doing all that stuff so I st-started drawing and…uhm …”
Ashton took a breath and shut himself up. Babbling was useless. This was so embarrassing. He’d never let anyone look at his art before, except for Julianne… and now this scary guy was looking at it, and not only that they were drawings of HIM. He would probably think Ashton was some sort of stalker or something. Why was it that everything Ashton did made him look like such a loser? The small boy cringed inwardly and squinted his eyes in apprehension. It had been such a good day too…
“Wow, you’re really good. Can’t move past stick people myself.” L.P. said finally, handing the book back. His voice was sincere, but his expression was so serious and uncaring it was hard to tell whether he meant it at all. It was like he was in a constant state of “whatever”.
Ashton looked up and blinked his big eyes as he grasped the book with both hands.
“So…you’re not going to beat me up?” Ashton asked in a very soft voice as he drew the book onto his knees. Stupid! Why had he asked that? Why couldn’t he just shut up?
L.P. raised an eyebrow. Just one eyebrow, really high up. Ashton was impressed. To be able to raise one eyebrow was a talent worthy of a medal in his opinion. Ashton just stared at the eyebrow. This guy was so cool.
“No?” L.P. voiced finally, “Why? Do you get picked on a lot?”
The smaller boy held the sketch pad to his chest and paused.
“Well, d-doesn’t everyone who’s my size?” Ashton offered quietly with a nervous smile, his eyes still cast aside, focusing on the pavement.
“Size has got nothing to do with it.” L.P. stated, “I mean, what grade are you in? Like ten?”
Ashton lowered his head a little.
“No… I’m in grade twelve, like you.” He forced a smile as L.P. raised both eyebrows in surprise, “See? Size matters.”
“What’s your name? You’re not in any of my classes are you?” the green haired boy inquired further, his expression still unchanged. Ashton was just stunned the other boy felt that he was worthy of any conversation at all.
“I-I’m Ashton…we were in gym together in grade nine, I think. We both have calculus this term, but you’re in a different class than I am.”
“Oh. Well I’m Jasper. And I suck at calculus, for the record.” The skater revealed, and Ashton was stunned. L.P. had actually told him his real name.
Jasper…like the precious stone?
“Do you have a spare in the morning?” Jasper asked
“Yeah, first period. Why?” Ashton asked.
“Would you mind helping me with my calculus homework in the library tomorrow? We have a test coming up and I don’t understand any of it.”
Again, the back haired boy was utterly speechless. Someone was acknowledging him and asking him for assistance?
“Um, sure.” Ashton replied, “Around 8:30?”
“Sounds good to me.” Jasper replied.
“Okay then.”
“Thanks Ashton. See you tomorrow.”
The green haired youth turned heel and trudged off, waving up at his other friends before disappearing down the street. Ashton was still sitting with his art book clutched to his chest.
It was the first time he’d spoken to someone from school, for more than a minute, in the past four years.
First chapters always suck. Read the next few before giving up on it.
Just a note; I am not “like, a HUGE Linkin Park fan” or something. Yeah, I kind of like their music, but I like almost every kind of music, so that really doesn’t count. You don’t have to like Linkin Park to like this story. In fact, I just picked the band at random.
You don’t actually have to read the rest of this if you don’t want to, I tend to ramble.
So if you’re still reading, the story behind L.P. is that I have this game The Sims2 and you can custom make characters and lead them through life, etc. So come home and I had just gone to a Linkin Park concert with my two best friends a week before so I was kind of in that frame of mind, so I made a teenager character that’s, in essence, my description of Linkin Park Guy. I liked him so much I started playing his character right away, and then the idea for this story began to form and take shape.
Thus I dedicate this first chapter to The Sims2. Thank you Sims2, you’re one of my favorite PC games…but you eat all my live memory and you still don’t work like a dream. Stupid old crappy computer of mine…(thwacks it).
Review and I will love you for all eternity.
-Chicken Ice Cream-
P.S.
The chapter titles are French because it’s my second language and I’m running out of ideas for chapter titles with all of my stories. “Timide” isn’t that hard to figure out. It means timid or shy.
