If Red Means No, Invert The Color

Chapter 1

          I pull into the school parking lot with one minute to spare until first bell. Considering I am already late, I take this time to park my bike, and pull out my pack of Marlboro's from my inner jacket pocket, placing a cigarette between my lips and flicking my zippo, a small flame igniting as I light my smoke, returning the lighter back into the safe leather confines of my jacket. I inhale deep into my lungs, watching as the smoke dissipated into the morning air in front of me; a small, cancer filled cloud, hovered in the air for a few moments before disappearing into the atmosphere around me. My eyes lingered over to the three story building that towered over me; a mass of bricks, wood, testosterone, and estrogen was made up into a prison to house teenagers for four years. This was my last, but not because I was a senior, it was because they were aging me out. I guess once you fail senior year as many times as I have, they just keep you there until you're 21, and then send you on your way. My mother wouldn't let me drop out, but she was happy to let me fail over and over again, as long as she didn't get in trouble for my mistakes and I was stuck living with her and taking care of her, she didn't care. This school wasn't that bad, I suppose, but it wasn't the best it could be. Just 3 more months, and I was out and done. I just, wasn't sure where I was going from there.

                   

3rd Person POV

            The rain beat down on the rooftop of Ridgemont High School with a vengeance. Each classroom had only one occupant, which was the teacher. It was 5:43AM, the day was August 17th, 2016. It was a rather dreary day, rain had been falling down for nearly seven days now. The sky was dark and the air was cold, each teacher gripped their coffee cups tightly, their knuckles going white as they wrote out their lesson plans.

 Kieran James pulled into the 'Student' parking lot at the rear end of the school, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he put his bike in park and pulled the keys from the ignition. His eyes loomed over the tall, brick building that served as his high school/prison for all of three(ish)years. Now it was his final year here, and he couldn't be happier. He had finally escaped from the prison that kept him captive and now all he had to do was finish two classes and he was done with high school forever. The building stood 3 stories, fully made of brick and had no air conditioning, which often led to Kieran's mop of curls to stick to his forehead and neck due to sweat.

He watched as the smoke dissipated from his mouth and into the air, a giant grey, cancer filled cloud hung in the atmosphere for a few moments before fading into the black morning sky. He peered to his left, he could see the sun beginning to rise over the horizon and he couldn't help but groan. This was indicating that the school busses, loaded to maximum capacity with students, would be arriving here shortly, And he was dreading it.

It wasn't that Kieran was anti-social. It wasn't that he was shy. In fact, he was the exact opposite if these things. He was a loud mouth. He loved art and music and loved just being around people. Just not those people. The kids of whom Kieran attended school with were all the same. All rich, all stuck up, and all in their own little football daydreams. Football, basketball, cheerleading, and student council was all anyone talked about here, besides fashion, reality television, and sex. That was all that mattered here. Popularity, money, and appearance. If you didn't have, or weren't one of these things, you were an outcast. Socially rejected from all. And Kieran did not mind that at all. He enjoyed being alone at school. It left him with more time to get work done which meant less time at school and more at home, even though he didn't exactly enjoy home either. His new home, anyway.

Kieran's old home was small, to say the least. It was on the east side of Ridgemont, AKA; the bad side of town. It was a small, ranch style home, with two bedrooms and one bathroom. The house had once looked nice, he could remember helping his father paint the shutters a vibrant blue as a young child, the blue popping out against the yellow cream of the rest of the outside exterior. His sister would always help his mother with the gardening, the flower pots filled with numerous shades of pink and red carnations. Memories of watching his father mow the captivatingly green grass as he played with his sidewalk-chalk along the pavement in front of their home; flakes of green falling on the purple and blue scribbles that the young boy had created to decorate the driveway.