A Jason McCann fanfiction.
***
"I want a bad boy
to be good, but only for me.
A boy like a hurricane
unpredictable
tumultuous
vicious
with the ferocious waves streaking in his fiery eyes.
Yet when he looks at me
the waves suddenly dance away
back...
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Bang!
The school bell rings shrilly, signaling the end of class. That's not really the sound it makes, but any abrupt, high-pitched sound reminds me of exactly that. The sound the bullets make when they come out of that thing with a trigger. Quick, successive, resonant. Bang! Bang!
"I know you're new, but here we change classes when the bell rings," someone says from in front of me. "And you're in my seat."
I glance up, only mildly interested, into the face of a generic-looking blonde. She's obviously annoyed and is giving me a distasteful look. Maybe it's my cardigan? The indigo color is fabulous against my olive complexion, and clearly she's jealous.
My snarky commentary exists only in my mind. I don't care enough to start anything with her. I collect my books and stand, glancing down at my schedule as I do so.
"Since you want me to leave so much, would you mind telling me where the Anatomy room is?" I ask the girl, simply because I have no choice. It's my first day here and my options of people to talk to are limited.
The blonde throws a smirk over her shoulder to her friend as if she can't believe I'm asking a question. I must be a Martian, right?
"Anatomy?" she repeats. "You must be a senior. Why'd you transfer when you're so close to graduating?"
Interrogation. I can't stand it. I don't like when people ask me too many questions, because most of the time I don't like the answers. Lately I'd been asking myself one question in particular: Why me?
"I had no choice," I reply, turning to leave the classroom. I think the girl says something after me, but once I'm in the hallway I'm drowning in the sea of students. I shuffle past people who actually know where they're going, keeping an eye on the yellow slip of paper with all my classes printed on it. It says Anatomy is on the G Hall, which for all I know could be between the F and H hall.
If those even exist. Which, they probably do, since North Shore - north as in, north of Laguna Beach - High School is ridiculously huge. All the teenagers in the eastern L.A. area come here and clique up and do whatever it is that they do. I wouldn't know. I'm from San Diego, and, judging how my first day is going, I wish I was still there.
I turn a corner and almost lose my balance going down the staircase there. Jeez, they should have a sign or something. There's still students milling around in the halls in groups and rushing off to their next class. It's October and midterms are coming up, so I guess they're getting serious.
Finally I come to a hallway with larger rooms and windows: they're science labs. By the time I find my Anatomy class with Mr. Anderson, the bell has rung again - bang! bang! - and I'm about five minutes late.
Everyone stares at me as I open the door. I pull my books closer to my chest - an instinctive gesture that makes me feel a little safer. Better to keep to myself.
