Dream Catch Me (Student/Teacher)

Dream Catch Me - Chapter Eight

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I was finally getting into a routine in the morning. Although it was really only my third day, and one of them I started at god knows what hour, I felt like I was repeating the same thing. Get up, do my hair, makeup, pick an outfit, put on my jacket and converse, grab my bag, sneak out the front door and head to school. I have almost every day of my schooling years walked to school. Other than really having no choice, I liked to clear my mind, perhaps even revise for a test.

But unfortunately this morning, my mind was plagued with the thoughts of the past couple of days. I knew that starting a new school would be hard, but I never expected the students to treat me like an alien. I haven't seen Fletch since the last period of biology on Tuesday but I knew I'd run into him today seeing as we had gym.

I was prepared this morning, grabbing my Nike's on the way out the door and stuffing them nicely into the front pocket of my bag where they joined the bit T-shirt and extremely skimpy shorts that coach gave me. I hope I won't have a problem doing gym today. While I like to embrace the pain, I still didn't welcome it with open arms.

My bruises, were now turning that awful green yellow colour, which look more painful and sickly than the original blow. These would disappear soon, but the rate of how much had already healed was a sign of my extreme healing powers. Probably after years of cell regeneration I must've gotten really good at it! And my mother calls me a waste of space...

Walking the now familiar route to school, the rain had finally cleared up and the signs of sun were the shining of the greyish clouds in the sky. Winter meant there were still extremely cold temperatures and people still coughing, sneezing and croaking while wrapped up tightly in their winter coats and fluffy scarves.

My shoes scuffed the pavement as I walked along close to the kerb. Thoughts were racing around in my mind, including my new job. I knew that the pay wouldn't be much, that old lady doesn't seem like she has much and should be in her pension! But even with more money meant some kind of freedom. More clothes? Nah, I had enough! A car? That could take a while? A new phone? My Nokia was getting a bit beaten up.

I guess my ultimate goal, the highest of highest goals was to rent an apartment, something cheap with one or two bedrooms, it didn't matter where. Although being only 17, I would have to wait at least 3 months before my eighteenth birthday to sign a contract. Until then I'll just have to stick it out with mother and Alex. Speaking of which, I hadn't seen Alex since Monday night and that was weird. He usually was setting prank after prank for me during his spare time, but the absence of these pranks had me questioning his absence too. Probably staying at a friends house, he quite frequently did that leaving mother and I alone. What a thoughtful brother.

I glanced at my cheap watch I had owned for years, the straps now splitting apart at the seams and noticed the time was 7.20. Perhaps a new watch would be a wise purchase? The tatty thing currently on my wrist could tell time perfectly, it just had a little trouble actually staying on my wrist. I had around 40 minutes before I had to be at school for attendance call, so I rounded the corner just past the bookstore, my new place of work, and entered Al's Coffee Shop.

The warmth hit me once again, like walking into a wall of heat as I stepped through the door. After ordering my black coffee I walked to the seat I had yesterday on the left of the large woollen couch and sat down.

Not much longer after my coffe arrived, I was escaping through the pages of my book, following the adventures of a boy with no family, friends or anyone to rely on. You and me both brother! All the while, drowning out the increasing murmur or customers in the coffee shop with my iPod, listening to the guitar tunes of Ben Howard and John Mayer. I could play these on my second hand guitar, in fact I was quite good on my nifty little instrument if I don't say so myself.

I taught myself, through books in the library, and listening repeatedly to the chords and tones of songs. The guitar wasn't an escape. Although people may believe it was, it wasn't. It was just a hobby that I enjoyed. I loved picking out different tunes, ones I make up, then others I learn by listening. Unfortunately with my burnt hand I wasn't going to be able to play for a week or two, but could perhaps try. Otherwise the tough calluses on the tips of my fingers from my dedicated playing will soften and it will be that little bit harder to play next time.

I started to think of the chords I knew, limited as I enjoyed picking tunes rather than strumming. My mind started drifting away from the words on my book as I involuntarily started making chords with my fingers against the cover of the book. I was engrossed in the chords, now 'strumming' along to my favourite Ben Howard song, Wolves, and was oblivious to the figure who sat down next to me.

It was only when the song finished and I felt the couch cushion move beneath me that I jumped a little, surprised at his presence. It was just like yesterday, except this time, he didn't ask, he must know I didn't mind. Except. I was cautious. He now knew my biggest secret, and if I put my foot wrong in any way, he may spill it to any old stranger. I looked over to him as I pulled the earbud from my ear, and saw he was watching me. Watching the movements of my fingers on the book with a merely curious expression.

"Guitar," I explained, surprised I had even talked to him in the first place. His eyes lit up a little, as if knowing that small fact about me had made his morning. It was soon gone though, replaced with a much more neutral face, hiding his emotions. Although I noticed the dull in his eyes was still there. That hurting dull.

Mr. hunter nodded, accepting my answer as believable. He seemed to lose interest though, going back to his coffee and not glancing back to me. Instead of being disappointed I tried to focus my attention elsewhere. So I stared at the picture on the wall. The variety and arrangement of colours and lines on the canvas were.. Well. How do I put this? Ugly. While I found most things from the 1950s retro era very stylish and modern, this piece of 'art' was hideous. The reason it was probably at the back of the coffee shop.

As if he read my mind, Mr. Hunter said, "Ugly, isn't it?" and kept looking ahead.

"Yeah," I replied. "Even when you turn your head to the side like the critics, it's still not appealing."

He chuckled at this, before he turned his head to the side and then to the other side before he came to a conclusion, "You're right. No matter which way..."

"Maybe with your eyes closed," I stated, a small smirk now threatening a full blown smile onto my face.

"Not even then." Mr. Hunter said, this time causing me to scoff a little. We both had the same kind of sense of humor. The sarcastic kind, where we got our kicks from small jokes that not many people picked up on, but when they did it earns a huge laugh. However with my lack of social skills, not many people even hear me speak, let alone crack a joke. But there was something special about this guy, my teacher. I felt comfortable in his presence.

"You should get to school Mr. Hunter, you've got a class to teach." I said before I put my book and iPod in my bag, zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder. I looked at him as I passed, dead in the eye. Somehow for some reason, I was hoping he would notice the dullness in my eyes too, the pain that plagued me.

But instead he said, "Joe, is my name. And yes, I do. It's your class so you'd better run along. Jane." Using my name instead of the usual Miss Reddington crossed my boundaries somehow, and I got scared at that so I turned away, muttered a "yep bye" before running out the door and not looking back at him. I'm sure if I did he would look confused, because I know sure as hell so am I.