52. (BoyxBoy)

52. page 2.

Chapter 1
 

 "Aiden Matthews, you're late."

"Yes."

"Apologise."

"I apologise."

The first conversation of his day, was an incredibly exciting and interesting one, involving Mrs. E. Nobody knew what the E stood for – Mrs. E probably didn't either. She never told anyone her real name, and forced everyone to call her 'Mrs. E.' or 'Sir'. Aiden concluded she was having a middle life crisis. He assumed she rode a Harley Davidson and had twelve children.
 
 
It was a Wednesday. It was always a Wednesday. This Wednesday consisted of double IT, maths, German and biology.
 
 As Aiden sat down at his computer, Mrs. E gave him evils and sighed – then showed a slideshow of very brightly coloured, photoshopped animals, before marching Ben Bryson to the head teacher's office for chewing gum in HER lesson. Honestly, how disrespectable.
 
"'Ay, Aiden," the boy next to him, Harry Sadler, asked.

"Mm?" Aiden responded nonchalantly.

"How’d ya get ya panda ta look like a g'raffe?"

"With my skill, and the power of Photoshop," Aiden replied distantly.

"Yeah. Can I copy yours? Email it t' me." Harry didn't waste time. He was also known for not taking no for an answer, so Aiden happily co- operated. Consequently, he got a lunchtime detention for having produced no work of his own.
 
Break came and went. Aiden had a lovely ten minutes bonding with his locker, as he tidied it for the 5th time that week.
 
English and German passed by.

Lunch: detention. That was fun. He had the pleasure of cleaning every computer within the school.
 
Biology: let's encourage everyone to take drugs, by showing them how to.

The bell rang at 3:20. Although, it sounded less like a bell ringing and more like a funeral song to Aiden. He knew what was coming.

Sure enough, six minutes and 52 minutes later, the wind raged, rain poured and Aiden hurtled home.

"Hey, Aid!"

"AIDS!"

"Aiden!"

"AIDS!"

There was a huddle of sniggers. Pulling his coat around him, Aiden walked off, burying his head in his
scarf, his eyes stuck to the floor.

"Yo! Buy me a Mars Bar, mate." Darren – the possible leader of the small group of yobs and chavs, yobbing and chavving at Aiden – shouted.

"Think you've had enough, MATE," Aiden muttered quietly. Just not quietly enough.

"WHA' YOU SAY?"

"You heard," Aiden sighed, still trying to scuttle off.

"No, I din't."

"Mate, are you deaf as well as fat?" Aiden heard himself saying.

"FUCK YOU. Get him, guys." The 'guys' were having a conversation about Max's new bike at the time, and didn't hear their 'leader'. Max's new bike sounded very nice. Aiden wouldn't have minded having a bike like that.

"How much was that?" he asked.

"D'no, Dad bought it." Max stated.

"Your birthday?" said Toby.

"Nah. Just y'know."

"A show of your father’s love and affection towards you?" Aiden inquired.

"GUYS! I said GET HIM! For fuck's sake!" Dazzo had to butt in.

"You're weird," Max pointed out the obvious, staring at Aiden.

"GET HIM!!!" Darren was now jumping up and down. No one had said it was a comedy show.
No one seemed to be moving, unless you count Darren, who seemed like he was trying to make some sort of tornado happen.

Aiden took this opportunity to run.

The ‘guys’ outside the school gates terrorised most people, especially Aiden. On numerous occasions they had stolen his money and shoved him into the bushes. Some guy named Pete hit him in the stomach once, but it was nothing much. It didn't happen every day, because they had to rob OAPs, steal alcohol and smoke weed most days.

He wandered home aimlessly, since he had mysteriously lost his bus money earlier. It wasn't his fault his locker didn't lock properly. It wasn't like everyone knew he kept his money in there, without a padlock.

He walked up the concrete path, counting the lampposts. There was only one of the tall black things, as there always was, so he decided to count the blades of grass. There were about five. The road was empty, surprisingly, at this time of night. It was a cold, November night, and already dark at 4pm. The rain had mostly stopped, but the trees overhead still dripped water on Aiden's head, so he had
his hood on his black coat up. With a fluffy rim on the hood, he was pretty sure his coat was formerly a girl's. It was, of course, second (or third - or fourth) hand. Even though he looked like a black bear yeti, it was one of the warmest coats ever.
 
At 4:52, Aiden walked into an empty house. The empty house was his. Well, not HIS. It was his mother's. Or the council's. His mother didn't pay for anything. He actually couldn't think of anything she'd bought. If it wasn't second hand, it was stolen, hence the 52inch television and sky plus box. Plus Aiden's laptop, which he was very grateful for; he had no morals or principals – a laptop was a laptop. A TV was a TV.
 
Aiden dumped his bag in the hallway, fell into the sofa, and switched on the television. There was nothing on, but that was unsurprising, there was never anything on. He flicked to the music channels, and listened to a bit of over-played chart music for a while.

Soon, he became bored, turned the TV off, and stood up.

He wandered over to the bathroom mirror. He saw nothing new. The same old face: slightly pale, oval and with a war of spots on his chin; the same old school uniform: a blue shirt, red tie and black blazer; the same hair: a mousey brown colour. He would describe his appearance as unattractive, but he really wasn't.  His hair was perfect, a shiny light brown, with darker brown highlights. It was short and spiky most days, thanks to gallons of hair gel. He didn't have a fringe; it stayed out of his eyes, so he had perfect sight. Well, he had perfect sight when he wore his glasses, which he rarely did. He cared too much about his appearance.

He never caught a tan, despite his efforts, so was left looking like a vampire, with extremely pale skin. A few spots under his mouth threatened his appearance, but he often tamed them with concealer.
Although his school uniform didn't do much for him, he still looked relatively good-looking.
 
Aiden didn't really care what other people thought of him, because they all hated him already, but that didn't stop him worrying about his looks.
 
 
"Fucking key!"
Oh. His mother had arrived home then.
"FUCK!"
Aiden dashed out of the bathroom and ran upstairs before she
remembered she had a son.
Unfortunately she remembered: "AIDEN!"
Aiden scrambled down the stairs, and paused, "Yes, mother?" Aiden
asked in his most innocent of voices, eyelashes fluttering.
"Oh, fuck you, what's for dinner?"
"It's in the oven," he attempted a weak smile, but failed terribly.
His mother 'hmph'ed and sauntered off to the kitchen, her high heels clattering. Her hair was so big, Aiden was surprised she could stand upright. It was a platinum blond and full of frizz, entirely fake of course - along with the rest of her.