True Love is Scarce (Ryden) (on hold)

One

Warning: This story contains bullying, abuse, depression, homophobia, and possible other triggering topics. Proceed with caution.

Also, I understand that the ages of the characters may not be aligned with each character as they are in real life. But this is the way I wanted it written. Enjoy.

The scorching hot heat made my graduation robe stick to me like tape. I kept adjusting it and moving it around. Even the material was itchy. But of course, my school gets the cheapest of everything.

I wasn't even paying attention to the speeches. The principal said something about how he is so proud of every graduate and how he will miss each of us. Bullshit. The bastard didn't care about any of us. Well, he did care about a selected few. Only the rich kids who donated a load of cash to the school. My dad could barely pay for me to live, let alone donate to a shitty school.

But I was glad to leave. Hell, I was ecstatic. It mean't I didn't have to see those bastards, Gerard and Frank. And their shitty friends. A few days ago, they gave me a bloody lip in the bathroom. All because I wouldn't let them copy my science homework. Punched me right across my face, then proceeded to take my homework. Wasn't even worth it. It's still swollen. But of course, they all donate to the school. So all they got as a punishment was detention. Marvelous.

Our valedictorian came up to the podium and started giving another sappy speech. I wasn't paying attention to this speech either, nor was I paying attention to any of the others. She flipped her long, shiny blonde hair and had a big phony smile on her face. She then gave another bullshit speech about hoping everyone has a great time in college and how it was a pleasure for her to be in our year. God, I'd be in any other year other than ours. The high school graduates of 2004. Guys would always smash the urinals in every bathroom. Girls would smoke in the halls. Everyone was rude.

I dozed off and looked around me. Hundreds of chairs were lined up in this football stadium on a hot Friday afternoon. The cheerful and relieved graduates sat in alphabetical order. Behind the graduates in their bright blue robes and hats were the parents. One lady was crying and leaning on her husband's shoulder. Another guy had his hand to his chest, looking proud of his son.

I didn't see my father anywhere, of course. I sent him an invite, even if I didn't quite want him here. But I thought maybe he'd show up to his only son's high school graduation. Guess not. Or maybe I'm overreacting. I don't know.

The valedictorian soon sat her pretentious ass back down, taking many "congratulations" from her friends as she walks back to her seat. Then they finally started giving out diplomas. I couldn't wait to leave this shit hole. The first graduate's name was called. Then the second. And the third. I lost count after a while. My year only has about 200 kids. That's too many people that I don't care about.

My closest friend Spencer Smith sits a few seats down from me. The first letter of Ross is R, which comes right before S, for Smith. It's in alphabetical order, so we're pretty close. He's the only person I actually like. His family is really cool, so I usually spend my time there.  He has brown hair that ends below the ears, and side bangs that come along with it. His eyes are blue, and he's a relatively tall guy. He's usually always happy and helps me feel better. He's a good guy.

I'd rather spend my time there than at home. I just live with my dad, but I usually don't see him. It's better that way. My father spends most of his time drinking and gambling. I don't ever know exactly what's going on with him. My mother left my father when I was just in middle school. If I could leave him, I would too. This took a toll on him, and all his anger was taken on me. Emotionally and physically.

Before I can continue my thoughts, I hear my name being called by our bastard principal.

"Ryan Ross", he called with a big phony smile. I pick myself up from the chair and walk across the isle of chairs. "Excuse me, excuse me" I repeat as I walk over everyone's legs. I get to the middle and walk up, taking the diploma with my left hand and shaking his hand with my right. As I turn around to walk back, I try and spot my father in the sea of parents. My eyes scan left and right, but I don't see him. Just as expected.