Redesign Me, State of the Art (Jalex)

Turn Off This Light, Call My Name

Alex's POV

Today was turning out just how I predicted it would.

Crappy.

There was a shit ton of traffic on the freeway, effectively making me late for my first period. I hated showing up late. It just reminded me of too many awful times where everybody's eyes were on me. I can't stand constant attention, it's annoying and nerve-wracking as all holy hell.

Another downside to being late was going to be the lack of parking spots, especially for a sophomore. Seniors and juniors at this school apparently get special parking privileges and sophomores or any other student drivers have to park down the street, or on the other side of the school. I chose the latter and pulled up my old Toyota behind the tennis courts, next to a small blue car.

I shifted the gear into park and turned off the engine. I figured I was already going to be marked tardy, so a couple of extra minutes wouldn't hurt. I was attempting to calm myself down by sitting in the silence of my car, but all I could hear was the rapid beating of my heart against my ribcage. This was going to be it.

Until I had stopped my car, I was still able to pretend that I was going somewhere else. Maybe to the beach. Or to meet someone for breakfast. Or maybe that this wasn't happening at all and I was still in my room in London playing Blink covers with my best friends.

Old best friends now, I guess.

My life was never really too bad back in Essex. My dad left when I was little, so it had been just me and my mom for as long as I could remember. I loved her to death, and I knew that she would try to protect me at all costs, because that's what moms do. She's an author, so she's always home and was around for the majority of my childhood, playing both of the parental roles. She always felt bad about my dad leaving, like that asshole walking out on us was in some way her fault. But I guess she felt sorry that I was growing up without a father. I however, was completely content. I never wanted to know or meet the man who caused my mother so much pain. I never tried to reach out to him or become closer with him. I figured, he didn't want to know me, so why should I give a shit about him? I haven't regretted it thus far.

I always had a couple of close friends around as well. People I could talk to, people I could trust. Or at least, I thought I could trust. But nevertheless, my house was always a hub of activity. My mom loved having people over at the house, because growing up, she was a latch key kid and an only child whose parents worked full time. She loved being a stay at home mom and having her house filled with kids to entertain and cook for. But most of all, I just think she liked seeing me happy. So when all that shit went down last year, her maternal instinct was to get us the hell out of dodge. And that's what she did.

Stopping my stroll down memory lane, and grabbing my backpack and some money out of the glove compartment for lunch, I started to walk towards the main offices that were up past the tennis courts where I was parked. As I trudged up the hill, this weird feeling of nausea that I had been having all morning reminded me of its presence. I just chocked it up to nerves, but as I approached the school, it only got worse. I wondered if possibly I was getting sick. Maybe there was some weird American disease that was one of those things you have to be vaccinated for before coming to the country because everyone that lives there is already immune to it, like the Spanish bringing chicken pox to the Native Americans. Well, whatever it was, it was being really fucking unhelpful and I really wished it would stop.

As I opened the big glass front door of the office, I was greeted by a small woman behind a counter, with white hair, a very floral dress, and too much magenta lipstick.

"Hello dear, do you have a late pass?" she asked grinning at me with huge teeth.

"Oh, no I don't, sorry. It's actually my first day today, and I was wondering if I could get my schedule," I explained hoping that she would be nice enough to just give me my classes and let me be on my way.

"Sure thing, dear. Name?"

"Alexander William Gaskarth," I said, trying hard to enunciate the syllables as clearly as possible on my last name so she would be able to spell it on her own.

"Yep! Here you are. Just let me print this out for you," she said sweetly. Apparently working at a school makes you good at spelling funky last names. "I see you're from Essex!" she mentioned excitedly as she pressed print and headed to the back room where I assumed the printer was. I looked over the counter and scanned her desk. There were a lot of cute family pictures with people I figured were her children and grandchildren, as well as a couple of small chachskis and paperweights. Very typical school-office-lady things. I didn't realize that she was still talking to me until she came back into the room, chattering quickly, "-and you know, I didn't really approve of my daughter just up and taking my only grandchildren all the way to London, but whaddya gonna do? Kids gotta figure things out for themselves right?"

I nodded, hoping that I didn't look too dazed and confused while deciphering that the young woman in the framed picture on the desk was in fact her daughter, and that she moved to London, and that she took her children with her (god forbid), and that this woman was not very happy about it.

She waddled back over to her desk to sign her initials on the schedule, proving that it was in fact from the office and not something that I made up and printed myself at home (but really, come one who would do that?). She handed me the still warm paper with my name and all of my classes on it. "Now, your first class will be in H203. That's in the building across from here. It'll be on the second floor on the left side. If you have any trouble finding any of your other classes, just ask your teachers, or any of the students. I'm sure they would be happy to help you. Good luck sweetie, happy first day!"

I turned around before rolling my eyes and saying a quick, probably very impolite "thank you" over my shoulder as I walked out. What seemed to be the upper quad was empty, except for a few stoners and burnouts ditching class. I decided to jog to the room so when I walked in, I might be slightly out of breath and it would at least looked like I was trying to make it there on time. As I rounded the corner after the stairs, I felt my stomach drop and eyes lose focus for a second.

Jeez, was I really that nervous? I needed to get over this, like now. I walked down a couple of paces until I saw the numbers 203 in black, block letters next to a closed door. I heard talking inside and pulled out my phone to check the time. School had started at 7:55, and it was only 8:30, so I wasn't that late, considering this school has a weird block schedule system where each class was an hour and a half. So there was still an hour left of class that I hadn't missed, which was still a pretty decent chunk of time. I heard a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that that was still plenty of time for me to screw things up.

Apparently it didn't need that long because as I was about to push down the handle and walk into the classroom, it was suddenly silent and then a loud chorus of gasps and screams erupted from inside. Confused, I rushed in, no longer worried about being late. The group of people were on edge and jumped at the sound of me walking through the door. Before I had to time to figure out what was going on, my head became incredibly light, and my vision blurred to the point where I couldn't see anymore. I fell back onto a nearby desk as my head swam. I leaned me hand against it, trying to steady myself. I let go in and attempt to try to stand up right, but inadvertently made things a lot worse as I felt my knees go weak almost instantly. It took all of my strength just to open my eyes ever so slightly. Before they were able to slam shut again, I caught a glimpse of a group of people on the other side of the room who were huddled around a boy already on the floor. A couple of them had turned their heads in my direction

"What the hell is going on?" I heard a girl shout. Her voice was unreasonably high, but seemed to be genuinely laced with fear and concern.

I struggled to answer her, and ask what was going on myself. I tried to introduce who I was but my mind wouldn't concentrate and my head had started pounding so fiercely that I could only hear the dull buzzing of voices shouting questions at me from across the room. I wanted to know what was going on, or who that boy was, or say anything at all. But I couldn't. I ended up shuffling forward before crashing to the floor, at where I was assuming was the front of the classroom. I heard footsteps come fumbling towards me, before I drifted into the  thick blackness that consumed me the instant I let it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ohhhhhhhh look at that ending. can you say cliffhangerrrrr. like damn are you scared or what? i would be.

-emma

song credit: She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty - Pierce the Veil