Adolescent| Devanté Swing

chapter eight

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Just ignore 'em, Don. They miserable just like everyone else and all they gone do is talk about ya. Donald prepped himself for the humiliation walk he would take as he finally entered the school's building. He spent fifteen minutes standing on the cement stairway at the front of the school with Michael, talking and thinking about whatever he could to prevent himself from walking through the halls, and as he is currently strolling with his head held high, he was slowly starting to regret it. The halls on the first floor were more crowded than usual before the bell would ring for first period.

He could feel and physically see the stares of judgement coming from students in his age group in his peripheral. Was it his hair? His outfit? Did he stink? He winced to himself as he glanced down at the pastel green, khaki pants, and black converses that were covering his slender frame. He pulled the first articles of clothing he found in his closet and made it work as an outfit. He didn't bother to let his father shape up his haircut this morning, he just combed it out with his pick and patted it down to make it look decent for the public.

He had a black jacket covering his slender arms, but it did not prevent the goosebumps from forming on his arms under the thin cotton material. He pulled the hood over his hair to avoid those staring at him and commenting about the worst moment of his life that occurred at the skating rink, he could've sworn he saw some familiar faces standing in the hall from that night.

He tried to cheer himself up for the simple fact that his birthday was coming up— faster than he expected. He was going to be fourteen years old, he would officially be considered as one of the "cool kids", he would finally be able to hang in the same presence as the much older popular boys, he could finally shoot his shot at his lady, and officially make her his. He could care less about it. He planned on spending it locked away in his bedroom with a twinkie and a candle, wishing to disappear from the hell hole he was trapped in.

He hasn't spoken to his woman since she called him that morning, begging for his forgiveness. He wanted to forgive her, because he really liked her. As much as she made him smile, she broke his heart everyday, she made him look like the biggest clown in Charlotte, and that was the final straw. He cut off all contact with Kandice and kept his distance from her. He had forgiven her for the sake of his mental health, but he figured it was best that she stop entertaining him until she knew for sure who she wanted to be her man.

Gripping onto the spine of his algebra textbook, he stepped foot into the spacious apple cinnamon scented classroom belonging to Mrs. Gregorio— making his presence known to the few students who were already seated behind their desk of the day. He sighed to himself with relief that he beat the final bell, and he wouldn't have to hear complaining about a tardy slip.

Mrs. Gregorio turned on the heel of her brown ups, her attention pulling away from the chalkboard and onto Donald as the noise of his footsteps alerted her of someone walking into the classroom. She stood in front of the chalkboard, waiting patiently for her freshman students to settle down in their seats. Donald could see that she was onto a new lesson for the class, polynomials. He could sense that he would hate it.

He groaned as he noticed that his classmates took up most of the seats in the classroom, maybe he should've came in earlier. Keeping his head low, he scurried down a row and took the seat in the back of the classroom, behind Monica, who cursively wrote something down in her journal for the class. He hasn't had any sorts of communication with her since the incident at the roller skating rink, and he didn't know why. She just started to ignore him out of the blue, and when he would try to spark up a conversation with her, she would reply with one-word responses.

He prayed to God that he would give him the strength to survive this long class period with her, he knew how petty and stubborn she could get when she was upset with someone, it would drive him crazy. He dropped his book bag down beside him on the floor. He roamed through his backpack, searching for some sort of a writing utensil, but cursed himself out when he realized he forgot them at home when he was rushing out of the door to catch the bus.