twisted // michael clifford au

0.7

pretend - bad suns

My college algebra teacher was not anything like Mr. Forester. The only thing that didn't make me uneasy was the fact that Michael was in the class. He sat one row behind me, our desks diagonal.

"Violet, please remove your sunglasses. It's disrespectful." Mrs. Whitman growled. "My doctor recommended I wear them, the um, the light hurts my head." her loud tone made me nervous, but it kind of pissed me off. "You can bring a doctors note tomorrow and wear them. As for today, you do not get special treatment." She said that as if I was expecting to be treated differently. She was intentionally trying to embarrass me.

I was expecting some sympathy, not because of popularity, but obviously because of my injury. She must not have liked me before. I don't blame her, I probably wouldn't have liked me either. I'm not the shy, weak Vioet I remember, and I'm not the prissy rude Violet I don't.

I huffed. "The lights in here are super fluorescent. I'm not taking them off," I spoke. I was going to say what I felt, rather than what everyone wanted me to say. I had to prove to myself that I wasn't going to be the same. "Excuse me! You will remove them this instant, and I will send you to the office." "I cannot stay in here with these bright ass lights! It's easy for me to pass out and I'm not causing my head anymore pain."

"You are really milking this injury, Ms. Cameron. You will remove your glasses, and stay after class so we can discuss your attitude." "That's bullshit," I stood up, roughly laying the sunglasses on the table, making a clanking sound. I walked out of the classroom. I didn't want to make a scene, but that's exactly what she wanted.

My blood was boiling, however, I felt great. I said exactly what I felt, and I loved it. Milking the injury? You try losing your memory, better yet, falling down twelve stairs and hitting concrete. It's no day at the beach.

I was so taken back that she said that, what kind of teacher talks to a student like that? She clearly isn't compassionate to the situation. I know it's because she didn't like me before, and assumes I'm still the bitch I was. It still gives her no right to try to embarrass me. I was just glad that the Shy Violet I remember was temporarily gone.

I was walking quickly down the hallway, though I had no idea where I was going. I breathed heavily, my head was killing me. I should've cut the melodramatic shit and brought the glasses with me.

I kept my hand on my forehead as I walked, shielding my eyes. The hallways were empty.

"Violet," I heard my name down the hall. Probably a student to rein me back to class. I turned around, trying to keep steady. I was getting dizzy. I sucked a breath in. "I thought you might need these." Michael said, handing me my sunglasses. Charming. "Oh my god, thank you." I took them, sliding them over my eyes. They were rounded and peaked at the corners, and the lenses were much darker than most sunglasses.

"I'm not going back there." I told him, as we stood in front of a set of lockers. "I don't blame you. She's a bitch. We gotta go somewhere though, so they don't catch us for skipping." My heart raced. We. This also meant Mrs. Bitchman wouldn't call the office on me, I was relieved.

"I don't know where I'm going, so you can be the guide." "I can show you wear you hit your head," he said with a laugh. "Or I can take you out back to where I smoke. Everywhere else is covered in cameras." "Hm. Risk reliving my accident or sit in a life sized ashtray. Tough choice." I made him laugh. "Let's do both, but I don't wanna look at those stairs for too long."

"So I fell down all of these?" I looked, studying the incline. "How the hell did I manage to fall backwards?" I laughed. "Maybe because after your head hit that," he pointed to the top of the stairs, "you couldn't really go up." "How did you find me anyway?" I asked, looking at the ground below me. All I can remember is waking up into his arms. "Me and Luke, the guy who was there, were out back. Neither of us had a lighter on us and we had to come back inside, just so happened as you fell." he explained. "So you saw me fall? Oh god." I shook my head.

"Just some of it. It wasn't even a fall really, you kind of stumbled halfway and then plummeted. I wasn't close enough to catch you." I liked the fact that he was answering my questions. "Which, you probably wouldn't have wanted me to catch you anyway. Or look at you." he sat against the wall, looking directly at the stairs below, to the spot of my misfortune.

"Not look at me? Nobody has really explained this to me, but I get it, I was a mega bitch. If I was anything like Kate I totally apologize. I don't even get how I became that way." I sat beside him, leaving a comfortable space between us. "I met you when we started high school. You started hanging out with Kate and you just became popular. You have been since."

"It's just not me. I know I'm with the wrong crowd. The last thing I remember is being an awkward loser. I want you to be totally honest, how bad was I?" I looked at him. "I don't think I should," "Lay it on me." I sucked in a breath, something I found myself doing when I got nervous.

"I'm not working with him, he's wearing orange. It hurts my eyes! I'm dying," I laughed, slapping his arm. "It happened! It's a lot funnier now." he laughed. I was pretentious and obnoxious. I could not be that way again.

"We have about fifteen minutes before free period, let's head to the smoking corner." "It sounds so cool and mysterious." I joked as we stood up. "It's as cool as the Arctic Monkeys, trust me." he said. "Who?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing. "Remind me to show you them." he said. "You're really asking the amnesiac for a reminder?" I smiled at him.

He began down the stairs, and turned around to me. "Oh." "They freak me out, I'm sorry. I know the chances of me falling again are small but I can't risk it." "I'll carry you if you want," he offered. "I don't know, I'm still debating on whether to give the privilege to look me or not."

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he lifted me onto his back. He ducked underneath the concrete to which I had hit my head previously. "What do you think the chances are of you falling and me going down with you?" I asked. "Hopefully slim." he replied.

We walked out to the smoking corner, which didn't smell as bad as I thought. It was near a large greenhouse, ironically, it smelled like flowers. "How can you be badass when your hangout smells like roses?" I asked, taking a seat on the black wooden bench. "I like the smell, girly or not." he told me. I was right. He was interesting. I wanted to know more.