A Flash of Metal, Then Darkness
I was walking to school, slowly of course so I wouldn't have to suffer a second longer than needed. I crossed an empty street and continued on my way trudging down the sidewalk. The air still hung over the earth like a thick blanket where the air had gone slightly stale. It was thick and humid, making me sweat despite the slight nip in the air. I hung my head looking at my worn converse covered shoes as they stepped one in front of the other. I sighed heavily looking up at another road I would have to cross. I didn't bother checking both ways since there was no point; I hadn't heard anything. I continued on my way until I finally reached the entrance to Hell, the clear double doors that lead to my school.
I went about my usual schedule of Math, Science, PE, lunch, English, History, and Spanish. As I walked down the dark and depressing hallways, I overheard snippets of other conversations, all mostly having to do with parties or dates. I always hated the halls, my friends were always there and they welcomed me, or at least they didn't push me away, but I always felt left out when I was around them.
"Hey Logan," said a voice behind me. I lifted my head and stopped. Behind me was one of my new friends who I had just met this year. All of my other friends from elementary school had accepted him, so I was forced to too. Or at least that was the unwritten and unspoken status quo.
"Hey Steve." I replied scooting to a spot against the wall out of people's way.
"So, did you go to that party Saturday night? It was crazy huh?" he said grinning like a fool.
"I wasn't invited." I responded in a voice meant to make him as uncomfortable as possible. His grin faded slightly and he shifted uncomfortably in his sneakers and tacky cargo pants. He ran his fingers through his greasy brown hair and licked his lips nervously.
"Oh, well it was alright, not as good as Macy and Derek's party!" he said then edged away and was swept away with the crowd.
"I wasn't invited to that either." I muttered hurrying up so as not to be late for Spanish. Spanish at my school was a complete joke; it was the language taken by kids whose parents made them take a language, but who didn't care what kind, or how difficult.
I dozed off after about fifteen minutes of Mrs. Hertz speaking the language of the adults in Charlie Brown, only to be woken by the bell signifying that I had survived another day of school. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and rushed out of the room with everyone else and began my slow trip back home. I crossed the same roads and walked the same rout as I had come, nothing changed except the temperature and amount of cars. I turned down an alley listening to my iPod playing loud rock music in my ear and ambled down the pavement trying to ignore the rats that were communing around the trashcans. Good old Washington. Just as I was turning another corner into another alley, I nearly ran into a car. It screeched to a halt and the driver started spitting out a line of cuss words, which I ignored and carried on. When I turned down the last alley I saw a light, purple, then nothing.