A/N -- The name is still in progress, but for right now...
Title: Apathetic, So Pathetic
And so it begins, as my other bland mornings do.
I wake up at 7:30 to the sound of some stupid pop song in my ear.
I throw alarm playing annoying pop song into wall.
My mom rushes in, alarmed at the noise, sees the mess, then gives me a disapproving look, as all mothers would do. "That's the third time this month you've broken your alarm clock, Rachel, we can't afford your tantrums anymore."
And then she'd leave.
And then I'd fall back asleep.
And then I'd wake up ten minutes before class started and have to book it to school, being only five minutes late to the first class.
"Late as usual, Ms. Walker." It wasn't a question, it stopped being one after a week of being late to class. "Sorry, Mr. Crink." I said robotically, automatically heading for my seat that was towards the back of the room, by the window. It had an excellent view of the playground from there, and it was perfect for when Mr. Crink would sound off on some stupid historical subject because then I could stare out the window and daydream, or just think.
"Sup' Ranger?" My best friend, Chad Greenfield, nodded towards me. I nodded back as I noticed his apparel. His naturally lean body was covered up immensely by his clothes. His blonde hair was covered up by the extremely graphic hoodie he was sporting, but you could still see the usual mess to it. His dark blue, ripped, four-times-his-size jeans were hanging loose off of his hips, giving everyone a glimpse of his boxers. It was the stupidest fad in the world, but I figured that if that's what he wanted to dress like, who was I to care?
"Nothin'." I fell into my seat, dropping my red and black backpack on the floor, not caring about the noise that emitted from it. I felt a glare burn into my skull from the teacher, but I ignored it as I leaned on the school desk, my arms folded together as I rested my head on them, facing Chad. "You?" I mumbled, feeling more irritated than usual. Besides the fact that my teacher was glaring at me, it was mostly because that stupid pop song that played earlier had resignated within my head, and was now playing OVER and OVER, and it was driving me insane.
"Range, you missed it." Chad whispered towards me, and I decided to humor him and pay attention. "Oh?" I whispered back half-heartedly, wishing I was at home with my warm covers, whom I probably miss more then they miss me.
Considering the fact that they're an inanimate object and incapable of feeling.
'Kinda like you.' My relentless mind reminded me. I directed the glare that was currently on my face towards my mind, if possible.
Shut it, I told myself.
"Karrie and Blake had a major beef this mornin' before class. The stank was so bad you could smell it a mile away." Chad started swishing his hand in front of his face, as if swatting away the smells.
"Oh really." I mumbled half-heartedly. I could really of cared less about Blake or Karrie, the ones who were guaranteed Cutest Couple in the school yearbook that was to be released in the upcoming spring.
You're probably expecting me to go in depth about their characters, and tell you how they've only succeeded in winning the "Jerkiest Couple" in my eyes. Well too bad. When I say I don't care about them, I mean it.
"Yeah, Range, I think I might have a chance finally." THIS was the reason they were mentioned. Not for anything of my part. It's because Chad has had a crush on Karrie for a ridiculously long time, since kindergarden, he's told me. 'The moment she shared with me her crayons when there was none left, I knew she was the one for me. She just hasn't realized it like I have.' That was the story, as told by Chad.
I opened my mouth to speak, but was interuppted by the teacher handing out his latest tormenting method. Pop quiz.
One C+ later, we were released from Mr. Crink's torture chamber, and set free into the bigger one. The hallways.
Between judgmental looks, snide remarks behind your back, and the ever-roaming girl-and boy- players, this is not a place for the weak. Like I cared. Although, I had to admit, I did let a pang of sympathy go out for those who did. Care, I mean. They were like baby squirrels, wide-eyed and doe-faced, being fed to the vicious vultures. It was a sad sight, and it won my pity, a feat everyone who knows me would say was impossible.
"See ya, Ranger." Chad waved and walked down the opposite hall. His locker was actually right across from mine, but Karrie's wasn't. He would purposefully go the long way just to pass hers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blonde-haired beauty he 'fell in love' with.
I thought it was ridiculous, and had mentioned this to him mulitiple times, but he'd just roll his eyes and say that I didn't know what it was like to be 'in love'. Which I couldn't retort, because I didn't. Sure, I've tried dating a few guys, but it was never love. They all turned out to be idiots, so you couldn't exactly blame me. So what I've decided is to stay away from the game of love, at least til college. Then, maybe. But the reason I've decided this is because of the well-known fact that boys are idiots. At least til they're men. So I've decided to wait til college, when I'll have at least a better chance of finding a decent man. Not boy.
I walked up to the locker, not even thinking about it as I entered the combination, and opened the door. I robotically took out the books I needed and put the books I didn't back. My locker was organized. Not nerd worthy, but I had different sections for different stuff in there. My gym clothes were at the bottom, placed in a gym bag. The top left was for books, which were alphabetized. And the top right I had extra pens and pencils in a baggy, in case I lost one or someone stole one. Which has happened before. My locker door was plain, I hadn't done anything to it. I didn't really care to either. I wasn't so freaked out about decorating like some of the girls in school were. Then there was the other side of the spectrum, the super-organized ones. The ones who had to-do-lists and organizers on the door of their locker, along with sticky notes. A lot of sticky notes. The future office-workers of the world, I thought. Hey, the world uses and abuses them too, just like all of us. Who was I to care?
After I got my books and shut the door to my locker, I felt someone behind me. I rolled my eyes, Chad was probably trying to scare me. The loser. I quickly made up my mind about what I would do, and before I had the chance to second-guess myself, I spun around quickly, giving a not-so-light punch in the abdomen to my beloved friend. "Oomph!" Yep, all according to plan, then he would go, 'Good one Range,' trying to catch his breath, and I'd grin and we'd walk together to class. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go.
And it went that way, at least until I realized that the person I punched was not Chad Greenfield.
It was Roy.
Roy: The toughest guy in school, whom everyone feared.
Roy: The one nobody messed with, not even the idiots.
Roy: The guy I just punched in the stomach.
Well, that's a great start to the day.
A/N -- Please tell me what you think, reviews are always nice, but I won't hound you for 'em. Thank you for reading!