Team →lashton

luke

Stereotype

[ster-ee-uh-tahyp, steer-]

 

noun

 

 

Sociology.a simplified and standardized conception or image invested with special meaning and held in common by members of a group

 

ϧ

 

The worst thing about school (besides the homework and the lessons) would have to be the stereotypical cliques.

From the day I walked into this school, my first day of Freshman year, had I known that cliques weren't just formed in the movies.

The way the school was divided was horrific in my opinion, the way some students would stare down others as if a death wish was radiating from their pupils.

Or the way a guy would slam a girl against a locker and slide his tongue down her throat, in no shame or dignity, for everyone to witness their appalling affection.

Or even when a rumor spreads around school and the person that the rumor got spread about sits miserably at a lone lunch table while their so called "friends" are whispering about them behind their back.

"Luke, Luke snap out of it."

I let out a "hmm" as Michael Clifford sat across from me, sending me a worried look.

We were at a lunch table, at the back of the cafeteria, right near a huge glass window, somewhere we wouldn't be seen.

Michael Clifford was the one and only person I'd ever really been friends with. Like me, he has been through similar self-hating issues, but it all ended when he found Logan Kelly.

The perfect girl who I thought was a boy at first, and nearly laughed in Michael's face for being gay.

"What now? What’s in that crazy little head of yours?" he asked, slipping back into his seat as I saw a jock from across the school flip me off.

"Stuff Mike, can we go?" I said, as I stuck one right up at the jock, and his eyes glazed over with anger.

I guess he wasn't used to people actually standing up for themselves.

"What for?" Michael annoyingly carried on, as I stood up and slung my backpack over my two shoulders.

"Stop asking questions. Fine, don't fucking come with me, whatever."

I turned on my heels, facing away from Michael and everyone else in the cafeteria before bolting to the entrance.

But before I could even reach the double painted pale-blue doors, a rather large hand had grasped my hoodie into a ball with its fingers, pulling my body back to an abrupt stop.

Hot breath was then fanning my ear irritably, and I knew by the falling blonde locks that were tickling my neck that it was Daniel Jenkins, the jock I’d just flipped off.

“Hemmings, Hemmings, Hemmings. Do you really think you can flip your middle finger at me and I’d just brush it off like it was nothing?” he seethed, making me fume angrily.

“Actually, I didn’t think it’ll really affect you Jenkins, after all, I’m just a small lanky blonde gay dumbass suicidal asshole.” I spat, using every insult he’d ever thrown my way.

Before I knew it, his best friend, Christopher Landon, had approached me and dunked a milkshake on my head, and had splattered a plate of meat loaf of the façade of my hoodie.

“What the fuck?!” I screeched, as Daniel had let go of me to go high five his equally air head of a friend.

I turned to see Michael coming over to me, a mighty concern expression plastered on his face. Oh and not to mention the cafeteria dying down from a loud rowdy roar of laughter.

I clenched my teeth and swiped at the bits of meat clinging to my hoodie and ruffling my hair before running out of the cafeteria and towards the front entrance.

“Luke! Luke! LUKE!”

I heard Michael calling for me, but I wasn’t having any of it.

I stopped abruptly and turned to look behind me, seeing the school into a slightly far off distance.

Long enough way away for Michael to not catch up with me anyway.

 

The road was familiar to me, so I did what I thought was best, and stuck my thumb out for someone, anyone to notice me.

All while taking off my hoodie, and sticking my thumb out in front of me, a car had pulled over and a small smile adorned my face.

The driver’s seat widow had been rolled down and a young guy stuck his head out, a mop of unruly dirty blonde hair covering his eyes.

“Need a ride kid?”

 (vote if you want me to carry on with this story)