"Fag!"
As that word came out of Don Peterson's mouth ( the most popular kid in schoo - a.k.a. the biggest douche of the school) my notebooks flew out of my hands, shooting my papers across the hallway.
Great way to start the day off, prick, I thought to myself as I scramble to collect my papers before class begins.
I sighed.
Yay. Being the only kid who's out is the greatest - and I mean greatest - pleasure of Roseville High. Hell,you might even label me as "Public Punching Bag" for all I care, who else would?
Walking down this hallway is your personal way into hell. High school, right? All the noisy herds of self-absorbed bastards who think they're the shit because daddy gives them everything on a silver platter. Who cares? I seriously doubt anyone does. What I'm focused on is trying not to slit my throat before I'm eighteen - seriously. I'm tired of living in my own little hell. Sadly, I have two long years ahead of me before I'm even close to eighteen. Not like anyone would miss me.
"Hey James!"
I turn right when I hear my name shouted.
Oh God, not her!
I scrambled even faster so I could avoid her, but it was too late. She had already begun to help me pick my papers up.
"Hey Martha." I said with as much sarcasm I could push out.
Martha is one of those girls who's always excited about something.
"So! Are you going to homecoming?"
"Martha, that's over a month awa-"
"I know! But you still have to plan in advance, right!? I mean there are so many things to do like getting dates, shoes and all those other great things!..."
Ugh. Listening to her is like listening to a bull horn talking through a microphone. Usually I just let her ramble on, but the word date caught my attention. The last time I had a date, he tore me in two, left nothing for me but hurt and sorrow, just an abundance of nothing.
"So are you going?"
"What?"
"Homecoming. Are you going? "
"Probably not."
"How come?"
" I can't ge-"
Ring!
Oh, thank God, saved by the Bell.
"I gotta go to class, I'll talk to you later" I said with such a rush to get away.
Sitting in class, I thought of nothing but having a date. Does anyone even like me? Know that I'm here?
Jameson
I mean if there was, where could he be?
Jameson
Hell if I know
"JAMESON" Ms. Moffin, my English teacher, shouts hissingly
"Here!"
"Well, since we have the attendance taken, I'd like to introduce our new student, Micheal Simpsons"
A boy, just under six-foot with dark black hair which stood perfectly a top his sculpted head, a beautiful smile, and amazing light green eyes had walked into MY classroom.
YOU ARE READING
An Abundance of Nothing
RandomA gay ten, Jameson, has a life where nothing ever seems to go right for him. After the death of his mother and a abusive father, the only time things seem to get better is when the new boy in class, walks into his life.
