Stairs

STEP 1 - "Cliché?"

STEP 1-  “Cliché?”

“Out of the way, wheely!” I hear as I’m pushed by the handles of my wheelchair.

I yelp and manage to stop it from moving further and crashing into someone, ending up in being insulted again.

I sigh as I watch them leave. Yes, them, my ‘bullies’. The popular guys, the jocks, you get my point.

The school’s social pyramid went: the ‘populars’, the rest, me; the nerd in the wheelchair. Ordinary high school, where popularity is what gets you on top of the food chain.

The guy who pushed me is Trevor, Trevor Rey, the ‘King’ of the school, as his last name provides. His two minions are Michael Boris, the stupid blonde, always a must in these sort of groups, and David Samuels, the athletic.

Trevor was usually called ‘Rey’, once again, because of his social status. He was the social butterfly of the school, but most importantly, the heart breaker. With trimmed short locks of brown hair, dark green eyes and 6’1 frame, the guy was ‘perfect’, as most girls would describe him.

Next came Michael, called ‘Mikey’, dumb as a monkey and with a massive problem of ADHD. He had the blonde hair and the brown eyes, also a guy girls would go for.

Of course, the third of the group of friends, David or ‘Dave’ was a massive wall of brick. He played absolutely every sport he could; golf, hockey, football, soccer, you name it. He also had brown hair, but much, much darker than Trevor’s.

I begin to wheel away from where I was standing, well, sitting. As I roll through the hallways, I look around me.

The usual groups catching up from what they did the day before, ignoring me. Frowning, I push on the wheels of my chair faster, not letting myself fall back into the usual ‘I don’t have any friends, I’m such a loner’ state.

But it is true. I like to pretend I have friends, at least one, someone who I can share my thoughts with. I’ve got used to it, or I am getting used to not having friends.

It was different in middle school, when I had a group of friends, but since the accident that left me first, in a one-year long coma, and in this permanent wheelchair, I lost all of my friends.

I guess not talking to them in a year affected things, plus one of them moved outside of the country, I’m not sure where my other friend, Jordan, is though.

As I pass a group of girls I notice Tiffany is in the group, chatting vividly with the other people around her, occasionally throwing her head back and laughing, her high, blonde ponytail swishing from side to side.

I quietly sigh and wheel past them.

Tiffany Leigh. There were no words to describe her. She had very light blonde hair, and even though people rumored she dyed it, I still thought it was beautiful, along with her blue eyes and pink lips.

My crush on her began as soon as I first saw her. She was a new student, coming from Canada a year ago. You’d be surprised with how quickly she became popular.

God, she is gorgeous… And she is also dating Trevor.

With her petite but confident frame, Tiffany was everyone’s crush, and every girl’s role model. I could never be with her, plus, it isn’t as if she’d choose me… Choose me?

The girl is in love with Trevor, I just hope he treats her well.

As well as the rumor that she dyes her hair, but true this time, people say she is a bitch. I haven’t experienced it, luckily, but I’ve been there when she snapped on someone.