Y o u L o o k S o G o o d I n B l u e

Chapter – 1 Blaz’n My Problems Away

P.O.V Jordan (Girl)

My name is Jordan Jefferson, a girl that leads an unorthodox life that holds no special attributes. All in all, I am the definition of boring with no faith in existence. Besides who would want to associate with a lowlife like me? A person barely on the social status bar so close to the edge, I was practically invisible to my peers around me. A seventeen year-old girl with choppy red streaked hair with long tresses in the front that receded into shorter locks near the back. Dull blue almond eyes stared blankly, void of all emotion for most of the time. While my strong jaw with full rose colored lips were set in a grim line or a prolonged frown.

Being a loner is not that bad as long as you have a thick skin. People tend to leave you alone unless their really bored and the nerds they usually pick on are not around. Being alone meant that I wouldn’t get hurt unless necessary and by necessary you ask? Is when someone chooses to pick on me. I get picked on a lot, but it doesn’t really matter all the wounds heal eventually though some take longer than others, but it heals. The bruises that don't heal fast enough I cover up by using makeup. If the makeup was not able to cover it all, I would just wear a huge sweater.

Besides, who needs friends anyways? If you could call the people here at Chase Vermont High friends, they are all backstabbing little bitches in their own way, so what’s the use of getting hurt more than before? Having friends is useless. Everyone is scum; they all lie to get their greedy hands on what they want, regardless of the sacrifice.

I walked steadily towards my locker, eyeing the hordes of clueless wannabes of the school. They all disgusted me in one way or another; their happy go lucky moods irritating me to no end. The laughter and chatter of friends intimately to each other while the echoing of squeaky sneakers scratched against the tiled hallway floor.

Once I got to my locker I turned the dial quickly, murmuring the combination quietly, to myself to make sure I had remembered correctly. I tugged at the lock and it released the handle. I opened the burlesque metal locker door and carelessly stuffed books into the gray moth-eaten backpack.

Once finished with that task, I closed the locker and wandered towards AP History. I was pretty early, when I reached class. Only two people were in the classroom, both near the back of the room. I knew who they were, but they were not my friends, merely acquaintances when I wanted a spliff. They were both druggies by the name of Axel and Dax; they were twins that looked exactly alike with their dyed black hair with green streaks. Baggy black and gray clothing, strong jaw and deep green eyes, the only way to distinguish them, were by personality.

Axel is the older one of the two. His laidback demeanor portrayed the image of the more mature sibling, which seemed to fit his older brother image. I don't really know if Axel is originally the more laidback kind of person, since he could be on some type of drug or another. Although, when you look past the druggie figure, you can tell he does not like socializing and talking. He barely speaks two words per day to others; I don't know whether he communicates with his brother more often.

Dax is the youngest of the two one with an attention span of five year-old. He always zones out of reality and has this cold personality. He has a menacing glare, but when no one else is around (except for his brother and his customers) his persona changes to a carefree attitude. A goofy smile would be plastered across his face as he tried to get you to start talking. As I said before, they are complete opposites once you get to know them properly.

I rolled my eyes intentionally, and I sat at the back the seat farthest away from the twins. The class seemed full of high tension even though no one is talking nonetheless, Dax’s long ivory hands tapped at the hard wooden surface of the desk, maybe to preoccupy him, because he does get bored very easily. His eyes looked dull and glassy as if he were detached from reality. He must be off into his own world again.

I stared vacantly at my fingernails, trying to waste as much time as humanly possible.

Just then, the school bell blared, signaling that class has just started, in a flurry, all the students of the class filed in; the last to come in was Ms. Atwood, the AP History teacher. Her bulging chest looked like two fat balloons were stuffed down her tight-outfitted pink shirt. Her slim figure looked two small for her huge chest, which lead to the fact that her chest wasn’t real. Her face didn’t look all real either. Long auburn hair flowed past her shoulders to the middle of her back; a small nose was placed in between two dark brown pools of chocolate eyes. A mouth with lips as huge as two of my pinky fingers were turned into a flirtatious smirk directed the boys in our junior class. I chuckled to myself, as I wondered how much plastic surgery she had to go through to get a face like that.

All the girls in this room including me had one thing in common. We all loathed Ms. Atwood, the not-yet-married-30-year-old AP History teacher. We both had different reasons for despising her. The rest of the girls in the school detested Ms. Atwood because she flirted constantly with the guys in our class, while she glared ferociously at the girls. The thing is I hate Ms. Atwood too, even though I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life, is because she can’t get a guy her own age. Even though I pretty much disliked the whole student body the teachers are no exception in my book.

All the girls including me are disgusted because of how Ms. Atwood would try various things to get the adolescent boys in our class to give them her undivided attention. Actually all the boys in the class gave her their undivided attention except for the only three people in the class that I’ve noticed. They were Axel, Dax and Travis. The thing is Axel is too laidback and doesn’t care about anything, I don’t even think he cares about girls all that much either. He’s too busy getting high, snorting one drug or another.

Dax is very peculiar. He ignores Ms. Atwood at all costs, even when it’s just asking a history question. All Dax would do in response is tap the desk, and that got me thinking that it might be some sort of therapy exercise. Behind his charismatic attitude he might be unstable. I have also noticed that he keeps quiet in class, he never responds to any of the other teachers either. Dax sure is a strange one.

Travis. Travis Pierce is an all around player with the popular status to match. He’s a man whore that likes to sleep around. His blond disheveled hair gave him the “just got of bed” look which suited him just fine. With his prominent nose, full lips, deep cerulean eyes and with nice muscles to complete the package, he’s good looking I admit, you’d have to be blind not to see that, but his bloated ego where he thinks he’s God’s gift to women and smart ass attitude makes me want to stab him multiple times. Oh, and the worse thing is, he knows he’s good looking so he flaunts it in every way possible, cracking stupid jokes.

So, with his personality, why wouldn’t he of all people stare at Ms. Atwood like she’s a piece of meat? Well, it’s because every class he’s too busy sucking Amanda Timmons face to care.

Let me explain this all to you. Amanda Timmons is the epitome of perfection, if there is such a thing as perfect. Amanda Timmons is actually fairly nice, not the kind of girl you were thinking of right? She's nice until you make fun of her that is… that’s when her perfectly manicured nails come out. So she can be a total bitch when she wants to be.

She may be nice, but she looks fake, with her bleach blond hair (no offence to blonds because I have a friend that’s smarter than me and she’s blond and I’m pretty smart, so don’t give blonds a bad name) surgically fuller lips and chest. Her legs seemed that they were miles long every time she wore a tight mini, mini skirt which is practically… everyday that I see her because I can’t remember when she did wear jeans, or well something that wasn’t tight or really, really short.

But, really, who cares about them?

Not me.

So when AP History was finally finished, I shoved my textbooks rapidly into my bag before almost running out of the god-forsaken class. Heading towards my next class, this was… Chemistry… great! Can’t you just hear the sarcasm dripping from my voice? Well if you cannot that’s just too bad.

I walked towards my locker once more, evading the many naïve freshmen on the way. I was going to be late. The crowd dispersed.

I turned the dial swiftly, and in one rapid movement, the lock opened. Just then, my face met the cold unforgiving metal; creating a sharp pain through it, generating a dull throb in my head. Echoed laughter followed suit, my bag was ripped off my shoulders, and I heard all my books slap against the floor and the shuffle of footsteps tearing up sheets of paper. I knew who it was. It was Jade and her so-called posse. I was used to it, I just let them beat me up, and there is no use in fighting.

Besides, even if I did fight and beat the shit out of them all, they would pull the sweet innocent look at the principle because they were all favored, more to the point, the principle – Mr. Conrad, is Jade’s uncle, so I would just get the blame anyway. Anyways, most likely, Jade would twist the story so I would look like the attacker and she, the defender.

So, let me tell you all about it. Jade is a conniving beast of a brat, with fiery red hair that is never out of place, her bust size looked as if it is too much to carry and her legs were really short which made her look chubby, even more so when she wears shorts or skirts. Her posse almost looks just like her and there are exactly, five of them all together, including Jade. So I call them the clones.

They were all pleasantly plump with their spherical stomachs, burly arms and stubby little legs that made them all no taller than 5’0.

I bit my lip, trying not to scream and to prevent myself from crying. I could taste the red liquid; it’s warm sticky, metallic taste still in my mouth. Some of it, I swallowed when Jade pulled me back to push me back against the locker.

Blood spattered, trailing along the blue metal locker, staining my clothes, while some trickled down my mouth. Jade laughed hysterically, whereas her posse pursued. The pain became more intense after every shove against the locker.

Jade chuckled once more, “You’re so weak!! You can’t even defend yourself!”

“Yeah, you little loser!” Someone shrieked.

“She’s such a wimp,”

“Piece of shit,”

“Loner!”

I couldn’t think anymore, I wanted to rebuke the nastiest thing I could say, but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. All of a sudden, the clash of metal alongside my skin stopped. They had left, their scuffling of feet diminished, and their hideous giggling stopped. I was alone… again.

I wanted to vomit. Crimson warm liquid pooled at the base of the locker, streaking the floor as well as the other lockers surrounding mine. Slowly, I pushed off the locker, making myself unstable, next thing I knew I fell onto the floor, opposite of the lockers.

I wiped my mouth repulsively, with the back of my hand; I felt my tongue move around my mouth, trying to clear the sultry liquid from my lips. I looked at myself then at the floor where my belongings were scattered.

Pens, pencils were spread across the hallway, with my papers, ripped and marked with my own blood. I looked myself over, my shirt, soiled, as well as my jeans. I rolled my eyes, before shutting them quickly to prevent myself from crying from the excruciating agony. The next thing I knew, I had run, through the many corridors, to get outside. A gust of wind met my face, caressing it before whipping my hair playfully as if it were teasing me.

I kept running, until I found myself at the cliff. People except for me and maybe a couple other people seldom know the cliff; the cliff is where I go when I’m dealing with problems or to just to get away form them all. The thing is it’s a long way down, a very long way down. If I were to just fall off the cliff right now, there would be no way in god’s name that I would survive, because there are these jagged rocks protruding out of the white foam of the trashing water that go in a rocky line. I would be split in a couple pieces before I reached the actual water.

Even if I made it to the water and survived that much of it, I still wouldn’t be able to endure much more. The water looks kind of calm when you are looking down at it, but when you actually get into the water, the currents drag you in, so you can’t go up for air. In other words, you were doomed from the beginning, the minute you fell off that cliff.

I shook my head. My mind went back to my bruises. I wanted to cry, really, I wanted to because it hurt so much, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong for Jay, my brother. So instead of crying my eyes out, I took out a spliff. I lighted it carefully before snapping the lighter shut and pocketing it again. I took a deep breath, before breathing out threw my nose. Smoke swirled in the wind, almost like dancing. Soon enough, I relaxed, my eyelids drooped and my posture slouched, soon, I was on the grass, watching the sea. My bruises and scars were the last things on my mind while the pain started to ebb away, vanishing, leaving only a slight numbing sensation.

I closed my eyes. It seemed like hours had passed and I had gone through smoking two pieces of dope. I swear I was about to fall asleep when I heard a sudden movement. My eyes fluttered open and I quickly turned around, getting up in the process. I affirmed that I saw a glimpse of a person with red eyes staring right at me, but it could just be the dope talking. I rubbed my eyes trying to wake myself up. The person was gone, or at least the red eyes were.

Rubbing my eyes worked a tad bit, waking my senses. I started to walk away from the cliff, making sure that no one was following me. Even though I kept checking behind me and the surrounding area, I could still feel someone’s eyes upon me so I shivered involuntarily. It freaked me out entirely. So I burst into a sudden run, raising my arms in front of me, to block the branches from my face, because you see, to get to the cliff you must cross a small forest.

I could feel small cuts appear on my arms; I winced, the effects of the drug were dissipating and the renewed pain made me gasp. My legs started to burn as the exhaustion tried to take over, but I continued to run until I reached my house. I stopped at a nice Victorian house. Green shingles, creamy pastel walls, a long driveway that had so far three beautiful cars occupying it and a stunning garden to boot. If you were to glance at my house, you would automatically think that a nice, caring family lived there, but how wrong that is. Ironic isn’t it? Of all the people in the world, I would live in this luxurious house.

I glanced at my watch on my left wrist. 12:45, I had missed lunch. Then my stomach automatically growled as if on cue. I trudged warily towards the front door, taking out a small metal key out of my baggy jean pocket. I inserted the key, and let myself into the empty house. I yelled a “Hello?!” no one answered, obviously. It is so stupid for me to call out a “hello” when no one is supposed to answer. My whole family is at work, or where ever the hell they are supposed to be.

My dad Dawson Jefferson is a workaholic and is always away on business trips. I don’t care much about him, because I hardly even know him, all I know is that he gets paid a lot. Ever since I was little, he’d be going off somewhere in the world, only staying home for a day or two a month. My mom on the other hand used to be really sweet and kind. Now, she thinks I’m a piece of dirt and only let’s me stay in the house because she has a sense of responsibility over me. She used to love me, or so she said, but not anymore ever since my older brother Jay died in a freak accident.

Flashback (When I was Eight years-old)

“Jay!! Can you take me to the zoo?” I whined, tugging at his sleeve.

“Yea sure, just wait a second kiddo, first I have to change,”

“Ok,” I answered, letting go of his striped sleeve, watching him run upstairs.

When he came back, he took my hand in his and walked me to the zoo. We padded along the sidewalk, me, pointing at random things, while Jay laughed, nodding towards me.

Soon, enough we were close to the zoo. All we had to do was cross the street. We both waited patiently at the cross section, waiting for the stoplight to turn red so we could cross.

A couple minutes later, the light turned red. Jay looked both ways just to make sure we were safe, and just as Jay stepped off the pavement. All I could hear was a massive SCREECH!!

I was so confused, because it happened all to fast, but then when I heard the sirens blaring in my eardrums, I knew at the age of eight, that something was wrong with Jay.

Later, that day, I was at the hospital, with my parents. They were all blubbery, crying and such, but me, I wasn’t, I was too traumatized about the whole thing.

A truck, a big one, had hit Jay. I blinked, slouching my body so I could become the smallest thing I could. I was embarrassed, angry, and sad at the same time. The feeling of nostalgia clawed at me, almost tearing me apart. I knew that Jay wasn’t going to live, the truck was huge and the driver was drunk.

It was my entire fault…

“It’s your fault!! It’s your fault that he’s DEAD!” My mom screamed at me, her finger pointing at me. “If you didn’t want to go to the zoo, THIS would have never HAPPENED!!”

It was my entire fault… It was my fault… My entire fault

End Flashback

“It was my entire fault,” I whispered, before shaking my head, to get the words out of my head. It had been ten whole years since his death and for these ten whole years that Jay’s been gone, my mother would treat me like dirt. My father moved on quickly, but he never acknowledged me when he was home for the one or two days away from the business trips.

I was angry with myself. Angry because I thought I had been over this. I immediately ran from where I was, and went upstairs to my room and slammed the door shut. I fell onto my bed, not caring that my clothes were all bloody, not caring that Jade picked on me, not caring about how hungry I was and for once in such a long time, I cried.

I bawled my eyes out, stuffing the pillow on my face. I just… couldn’t forget about Jay. My brother.

Author's Note: I like this story to some extent and I apologize that in the near future I may become lazy and procrastinate. This story is sort of sad I guess, and I am sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. I praise "Spell Check" for it's wonders. If you still find mistakes, tell me about them so I can edit it. Even though I had this chapter BETA'd, mistakes still can be missed.

Reviews help me get some inpiration and if you have any ideas, please send them to me. :