September 5th, 2015
I rustle through the boxes trying to find my favourite pair of jeans. They are a washed out black- now almost grey- pair of skinny jeans. They, paired with my white polo shirt, checkerboard Vans and grey beanie, form the perfect combination for the new school year. I'll be able to fit in just enough that I'll be able to go invisible for my last two years. No need to socialise now, with people I know nothing about. Now I can hear you wondering, what on Earth am I going on about? So let me explain. Ahhh! Here they are, finally. Let me just quickly slip them on, so I can start on my 20-minute walk to school.
Anyway, let me introduce myself properly. My name is Noah Hunt. I'm sixteen, turning seventeen later on this year. I've lived my entire life in a small town in Tennessee. But after my mom left me and my dad (and I can't really blame her for leaving my dad - I just don't get why she left me?) my dad finally decided to get off his sorry drunk ass and get himself a job. But, you see, the only job he could get was one where no one knew who the hell he was, so we ended up here: in Centreville, Virginia. I've only ever been to Virginia once before and that was a long time ago. Now, I'm not upset in moving or leaving any friends behind or any of that. I'm just mad that it sets me back on the whole getting everything perfect for college applications. So, if you haven't already worked out, I'm what they call a "nerd". But not in the original sense of the word- oh, no- that would be boring. I'm the type of nerd who works extremely hard even though he hates it and spends his afternoons in a library because he has nowhere else to go; because my home has never been an option. I don't want friends because they are a useless hassle, and I won't see them again once I get a scholarship as far from my so-called family. But no, I don't avoid people- I'm tactical- I pick the people who surround me to be smart intellectuals too. So I always have competition, I like to be the best you see?
Now that that's settled I have arrived for my first day at school. I'm going to have to go to the main office to get my schedule. But why do all high schools in this wonderful country resemble prisons? With the brick exterior and square windows, dated interior and graffitied walls. I look up at the fluorescent lights hung low at the entrance and realise that this light may be bright but it doesn't show any truth with it. After all, these are institutions for learning, you think they would symbolise the future. But instead, they almost always look like a grave to mourn the past youth and their dead dreams. There is no inspiration here, is there any left in this world?
"Can I help you dear?" a sweet, elderly woman looked up at me. She resembled the type of woman who baked cookies for her grandchildren on the weekend and did all sorts of volunteer work. Her greying hair was pinned neatly into a bun and she wore bright turquoise, dangly earrings. She had a bright smile that seemed genuine. She obviously liked kids, if she could keep up that smile when she has to deal with arrogant, unhygienic and simply put: rude teenagers all day.
"Yes, I'm here to collect my timetable and officially enrol into classes," I said mimicking her bright tone and adding a smile just too be nice.
"Ahhh, you must be Noah. Oh, how I love that name- Noah's Arc was always my favourite story when I was a little girl." She smiled at me as she instructed me on where to sign. When we were done, I had missed homeroom, so I just began to head to my first class: English Lit, Room 301. After five minutes of wandering back and forth, I found the room. I quickly scrambled into a seat as the teacher began to take the register. The first seat available was in front of some blonde boy, who I didn't pay much attention to. But I felt his eyes on me throughout the entire lesson. Probably just curious about the new boy, that's all.
The day continued following this pattern. Me, fumbling around the school hoping I was headed in the direction of my next class, then listening to a boring lecture either on anatomy or the civil war, then hastily taking it all down in my notes for revision.
YOU ARE READING
Breathe A Little (boyxboy)Teen Fiction
Meet Noah Hunt. He's the definition of a "good boy": perfect grades, all the right extra-curricular, doesn't drink, party or get into any trouble whatsoever. Why? Because he is on a mission: to get a scholarship and get as far as he can from his dea...