Something to entertain you while I work on Chapter 20 of BTSP



It wasn't a beautiful day, with sun streaming through the windows, but nor was it a horrible day, with rain lashing against the windows as thunder rolled overhead.

It was a normal day. Normal wake up time, normal routine, normal breakfast and normal walk to school.

Bored yet? I understand. I therefore give you leave to bugger off.

Normal...juuust about sums up my life. Divorced parents, hardworking mother, average flat on the third floor, B to C grades....

Apart from the whole friends part. If I had friends, let me tell you; they'd be average, blend to the wall people.

I'm not anything special, anything noticeable. Pale skin, light green eyes with shaggy black hair – average height for a seventeen year old guy.

I guess the only special thing about me is my extraordinary talent to be invisible. Seriously – I could do a seduction dance with nothing but a leaf in the middle of my English class and the person sitting next to me would ask the person behind me for a rubber.

Pfft. How rude.

As I sat in homeroom, I could hear people whisper excitedly all around me, but I kept my eyes on my book.

I tend to read a lot. In my head, and in any essay I write, I love using long and complicated words that even the English teacher will raise her eyebrows at.

However, I learned pretty quickly that people think you're weird if you speak like a seventy year old politician. Actually, around people I get really shy, and don't really speak at all. People think I'm weird, but I can live with that. It's not like I was born to impress people or be famous. I just am.

Like a...a monkey or something. How else would you describe a monkey? You wouldn't call it a fish, or a phone. It's a monkey, simple as that.

Why the hell am I explaining this to you? Jesus, you must be confused with my fucked up ramblings. Well, who am I, you ask?

Jak Edins. Age: 18. Location: Brimwell High School. Social Status: Invisible.

The room around me quietened until it was silent. Ah. Peace.

Then the teacher's voice cut through the room, jarring my concentration and making me lose focus on my sentence. What are you saying now, bitch? Huffing in exasperation I slammed my book down, lifting my head up to glare at the front of the class.

Mrs Gall was standing by her desk, her mouth moving as she explained something to the class. Since it was my last year at school, all of the leavers were out into the same homeroom. I've learned to tune her out; all you need to know gets written on the board and she never calls me out for a question. But then she did something interesting; she motioned with her hand and looked to the open classroom door, her expression open. Everyone followed her gaze and to my chagrin I did the same. I'm such a sheep. Baaaah.

Someone walked in; a mass of chains and dark colours. They stopped and took a bored stance at the front of the glass, not seeming to care that fifteen other people were staring in both interest and disgust.

His style of dress – and by that I mean his clothing, you fucktards, not that he's actually wearing a dress – deserved a second look. Baggy black trousers paired with a blood red T-shirt, advertising a pretty girl holding a bloody knife behind her back as the slogan stated, 'Me? Murder? Heavens, no!'

He had heavy duty black boots on along with a multitude of chains that criss crossed and tied around his trousers, one even twisting round a heavy belt that had a metal skull buckle. He had a black beanie on that hid his hair, but I'm pretty certain he's dyed it black.

His face was interesting, to say the least. Not ugly, but not particularly striking either. Icy blue eyed rimmed with black kohl along with a sharp nose, all leading to a surprising pair of full lips. His eyes stared defiantly out at us, as if he was challenging any of us to mess with him. He had a black messenger bag slung casually over one shoulder, a black and white hoodie tied to the straps.

I didn't even know his name. But already I was planning out the school routes in my mind to avoid him at all costs. He looked like the sort of person who would eat me for dinner if I dared speak to him.

Get out of my way, idiot! What? You dare speak to me! Come here! I'm gonna eat you, you little pipsqueak!

Let me tell you; I'm not too fond of the idea of being eaten. I mean there's the whole feeling of having teeth eat your fingers and veins and organs and...

Fuck. I better stop grossing you guys out and pay attention.

"This is a new student!" Mrs Gall trilled. What's wrong with her? She never trills. Or sings. Or even sounds remotely happy in anytime of the day. "He just transferred over from Glasgow High School. His name is..." She trails off, unable to remember his name. I hold in my snort, trying hard not to laugh.

The new guy wasn't so polite. He snorted loudly before tilting his head to look at her, a smirk playing around his lips. "Forgotten already?"

Mrs Gall got quite flustered. "No! No, I have not. It's...Jason, isn't it? Yes, it is. Why don't you–"

"It's Ollie."

His short statement threw her off course again. "Sorry? Oh, your name! Yes, Ollie it is. Now how would you like to tell the class a little bit about yourself?"

"...not really."

Our teacher was speechless. She stood and stared at Ollie for a few tense minutes before sighing and pointing out the empty chairs in the classroom. "Then go choose a seat. I'm sure everyone will be eager to hear about yourself later."

The look of scepticism on everyone's faces except mine was hilarious. I think mine had a look akin to horror, because you know why?

There was one seat available. Next to me.

Nooooo! Lord, why do this to me? Really?!

It was like an invisible string was pulling everyone away from Ollie as he walked, his heavy boots thudding on the ground as he swerved between the desks. One he got to his he let his bag drop to the ground before falling into his chair, taking on that uncaring posture I'd seen at the beginning.

"Right!" Mrs Gall then preceded to tell us about the upcoming school dances – all of which I wasn't going to attend.

I tried to ignore the presence beside me. I really did. But my eyes kept sliding back to that relaxed figure; hands idly playing with the nearest chain as he stared to the right out of the window. I couldn't fathom why he'd be so closed off, or even rude.

I wasn't obsessed or anything. I was just intrigued by his attitude. Really.

Lunch was boiled pasta along with a watery sauce, courtesy of the dinner ladies. How lovely. I poked at it in interest, wondering if I flung it at someone's head it would stick to their hair.

I was sitting comfortably in my corner of the cafeteria, alone at my table. It really was my own table; no one else sat here. I guess no one saw it, me being invisible and all.

The doors flung open as Ollie walked in, flanked by his unfortunate guide for the day. It wasn't like the movies when everyone stops and stares while all conversation halts – sure, everyone stared at the new guy, but no one stopped talking. His guide, a timid girl called Sarah, abandoned him as soon as possible to sit with her friends, bitching about how mean the newbie was. I watched discreetly as he walked over and bought lunch, turning round to survey the room for a place to sit.

I lowered my gaze as his eyes swept past my corner, concentrating on the indigestible pasta. As I lifted up a mound of it on my fork I grimaced. It stuck together in clumps, the cheese a strange orange colour that in no way looked safe to eat. I squinted at it curiously, feeling faintly nauseas.

"Hey you. Move."

I jerked, my hand releasing the fork to have it clatter by my elbow and fall to the floor. Smooth. I lifted my eyes to Ollie's, a small shiver of fear running through me.


Aaaand my mouth decides to betray me instead of just doing what he says and keeping itself shut. I groaned internally to myself.

"I said," Ollie slammed his tray down on the table, leaning over it to glare challengingly into my eyes. "Move."

I should have just grabbed my bag and hightailed it out of there. But to my shock my mouth kept moving, speaking words I instantly wanted to take back.

"I was here first."

I could see my funeral already. My mother, weeping tragically over my coffin. My grandparents standing solemnly by the priest. My father...well. I don't know where he was, but I'm sure if I died he'd at least pay his respects.

Something hit the table so hard the vibrations travelled up my arms and to my jaw. My teeth chattered as I was pulled back to the present, the sight before me so unexpected my mouth fell open.

Ollie had slid his tray round to my side of the table and pulled mine to the other, dropping his bag next to mine. "Go round the other side then, asswipe."

I was so in shock I just did was he told me to do, going round the opposite end of the table so my back was facing the lunchroom. He just sat down and plugged his iPod in straight away; shovelling the food down so fast you'd think he hadn't eaten in days. He then got out a sketchbook and started doodling on it, the music in his ears so loud I could hear the lyrics being screamed out.

I realized I was staring and dragged my eyes away, a small pang of embarrassment on my cheeks.

I'm such a social retard.

A week later, everything had changed.

And by everything, I mean having the scary psycho but surprisingly arty new guy sit at my table earned me an insulting amount of attention. People actually realized that I was alive, and they were treating me a like a new student. It was scary. Girls giggled and twisted hair when they talked to me, high pitched laughter following every unfunny sentence I said. Guys came up to me too, wondering if I was on any sport teams or did any rugby.

I'm not used to socialising. I'm really, really not. So every incident was treated with extreme caution, me trying to sound normal. I stammered and stuttered my way through the conversations, hating my lack of social skills. It was something of a relief to be alone at my table, able to eat in peace and not have people trying to talk to me. In every conversation I had, every single person had dropped Ollie's name into the mix, asking me questions about him. That's the only reason they talked to me in the first place. Otherwise I was just unnoticeable.

One lunchtime a few weeks later I slumped onto the table later than Ollie, staring in exhaustion at the soup we were supposed to be enjoying.

Ew. It looks like regurgitated food mixed in a blender with milk.

I heard giggling behind me and turned to see two black clad girls walking towards me, their hushed whisperings and hurried footsteps making it clear they wanted to talk to me. I groaned and let my head slam onto the table, wanting them to go away.

"Hey...hey you!

"Charlotte, his name's Jak!"

"Jak? As in yak?"

"Close enough."

"Hey! Jak!"

I lifted my head to face them, wanting to hide under the table. "What?"

"Silly, your first response should be 'hello!'" Charlotte giggled. Her friend followed suite. My eye twitched as I fought the insane urge to lunge forward and bite her on the nose.


"That's better." Charlotte tittered. "Hi back! My name's Charlotte and this is my friend Kate."

Kate winked. I again resisted the urge to maim her face in some way.

"We were wondering if you – and your friend, of course – wanted to join our table." Charlotte eyeballed Ollie as she stated this, making it clear the offer was really intended for him. He was watching her with a slightly perplexed expression, one ear listening to music as he drew in his sketchbook. I sighed and gritted my teeth, trying to sound reasonable as I replied. "No thanks. Um...we're fine."

"But you can't just sit here all by yourself!" Kate whined, her voice taking on a pleading tone. "If you just invited Ollie to our table..."

"Look, I really would prefer to stay here and...and I'm sure he does too."

"You don't speak for him!" Charlotte insisted. She must have gotten a surge of confidence as she looked at Ollie and said directly to his face, "Do you want to sit at our table, babe?"

His eyes flickered up to her face, his pencil slowing to a halt as his face took on a disbelieving expression. "Do I look like I want to sit at a table of annoying sluts?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, turning my head into my shoulder to try and mask it as a cough. Didn't work. Kate and Charlotte looked affronted, with Charlotte being the leader of their duo. "Humph!" She stamped her foot. "You're as nasty as each other! You deserve to be alone at this stupid table!"

She stalked off, leaving Kate to give us the finger before she strutted off too. I laughed openly at that, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. I have an embarrassing laugh. It's a big booming laugh that when I did it, made others laugh too. So I wasn't surprised to see the corners of Ollie's mouth tilt up as he made eye contact with me, humour in his eyes.

"Nice girls." He said it so innocently I almost missed the sarcasm.

"Yep." I smirked and laughed again, shaking my head as I picked up my bag to look for my unfinished history homework.

As I sat there going through dates and traditions, my mind wandered back to Ollie's silent laughter. I'm secretly glad he did that – it means he doesn't hate me.


"Hey, mum!" I opened the front door, careful to pick up the mail as I did so. "You home?" No answer. As I dumped my bag by the door and made my way through to the kitchen I saw a note taped to the fridge.

Working night shift. Back at 7. Cooking stuff in fridge. Don't burn yourself like last time! Xx mum.

I chuckled at her humour. My mum and I were really close, despite the fact we didn't see each other often. Last month I'd burned my finger on the stove, resulting in an embarrassing trip to the hospital with me explaining how I managed to burn myself while attempting to cook. A few months ago I'd gotten the brilliant idea to teach myself how to cook. At the start I'd been dreadful – everything was undercooked or burnt, didn't taste right, or I'd fuck up the recipe. But recently I've gotten a lot better, resulting in nicer meals at home. I looked through the fridge, pursing my lips in thought.

Soo....choices. Chilli and rice? Chicken and vegetables? Fish pie?

Sighing, I shut the fridge and went to my room, falling on my bed and picking up my latest book. I'll cook later. I needed to get back to the adventures of Cody and Aaron, stuck on the desert island after their plane crashed there. As I read, everything else faded away until I was completely absorbed in the story, imagination running wild at every description and action.

"May I go to the bathroom?"

My maths teacher looked at me before surveying the raucous class, seeing I was obviously finished with all my work and waiting to do something else.

"Of course."

I scarpered out of the room, glad to be free of all that yelling and noise. It's fine when you've got someone to laugh and joke with, but if you're gets annoying. Real fast.

As I turned the corner I almost tripped over my own feet in surprise. Ollie was leaning against his locker, listening to his ever present iPod as he flicked through his sketchbook. I walked up to him, curious as to why he was standing out here during class time.

Without thinking I reached out and touched his shoulder, curiosity getting the better of me.

Cold eyes snapped up to glare at me. I withdrew quickly, an apology already on my lips before I saw them lose their fierce chill and be replaced with calm neutrality.

"Hey." His notepad snapped shut. He tugged an earpiece out and it swung by his waist as he talked to me. "What are you doing?"

My lips quirked into an unsure smile. "Just going to the bathroom. Um...what are you doing? Kicked out by the teacher, huh?" Why the hell was I making assumptions like that? Brain to mouth, brain to mouth, urgent re-connection needed.

"No. Extended toilet break." I snorted at that.


We stood in silence for several moments, the air not quite uncomfortable but slowly getting there. I rolled my shoulders back and started walking again, waving a hand back at Ollie. "See you at lunch."

As I walked away I heard Ollie shift quickly, perhaps losing balance when shifting feet. But then he called my name.


I turned while walking and stumbled over my own feet, regaining my balance eventually to stare at him. That was the first time he ever used my first name. "Yes?"

Ollie seemed to struggle for words, his mouth moving before that cool mask replaced the uncertainty and he sent me a smirk. "Just testing out the name."

I smiled before turned away again, walking down the hall and into the bathroom.

This is part ONE of a Threeshot.