L is for...

Chapter 1

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Name: Nico Di Angelo

Age: 16

Grade:12

Height: Don't know or care.

Period: You should know since you are my teacher.

Reason for being in this class: It was on my schedule.

Goals of the year: Don't die. 

Friends: N/A

Fears: N/A

Talents: N/A

Anything else I should know about you? N/A

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I feel pretty good about the paper I just turned in. It's the first day of school, and I'm already done with these teachers who claim to care about us as individuals. Yeah that's all bullshit, and we all know it. This history teacher just wants to weed out the bad students from the get go, so I figured I'd make his job easy. I know, I'm quite the hero, right?

School is the absolute biggest waste of time. The competitive social aspects only add to my long seated hatred for the educational system. Getting good grades and making friends? Yeah I'd rather run naked through the woods into a wolf pack. The only reason I attend this hellhole is to at least get out of that other shit hole that is my home. Ditching only sends home notices of my "bad behavior" so I just zone out through the long lectures and try to get through the day with as little human interaction as possible. I'm practically invisible no matter where I go, so it's pretty simple.

But I do have to be honest--I mean with this shit of a personality at least there's one bright side to my otherwise gloomy disposition--I did like school at some point earlier on in life. I ended up skipping two grades because of it, and now I highly regret that decision. So now I make sure my grades are only average, despite the ease I could ace them in. No one wants to be the 16 year old senior smart kid. Well maybe some people would, but definitely not this one.

The sunshine in my day comes from the one class I can actually stomach: orchestra. Despite my general distaste for giving a fuck, I do enjoy the 50 minutes I can spend playing music on my cello. I miss my old school, oh yeah did I forget to mention I'm also the "new kid" now, great way to stay under the radar, am I right? Well anyway there was a teacher there, Mr. Chiron, who actually made the course interesting without being a total try hard middle age dude. He taught ancient greek history, which was already weird enough for a high school, but I'm happy it was on my schedule.

The bell rings and the history nut at the front of the room tries to wrap up the syllabus as quick as he can. As I head to my next period, english oh the joy, I get shoved into the wall hard.

"Fag." The tall blonde mutters and I sigh. No matter the city I always seem to attract the attention of douchebags. Blame my short stature and dark clothes for the bullying. Being the little shit I am, I decide to respond to his kind gesture.

"You know I love being pushed into lockers early in the morning, it's a totally refreshing way to wake up." I say, putting the most saccharine tone into my voice. He turns back toward me, "I'd watch my mouth if I were you kid."

"Why, is there something on it?" With that he punches me in the face.

"Yeah, there was: my fist." Damn, I walked right into that one. I guess my overflowing wit and charisma fail me sometimes. The second bell rings and the guy snickers as he walks away.