Revolution of the Heart

Chapter 1-A Bad Way to Start a Day

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The wind gusts around me as I step out of my comfy house into the frigid October wind. I take a hair tie off my wrist, and tie my hair up in a messy bun. I pull the hood of my black hoodie onto my head, and look at the ground so no one can see my face.

I can hear Asher and some of his friends fooling around by the stop sign as usual. I hear them make some crude comments toward me, and I turn the volume up on my iPod so they can use their words to hurt someone else. I feel a splat of something hit my back, and I tense up. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react, so I ignore them. When the bus comes, they get on and I follow. When I've found my seat, the very last one in the back, I reach behind me to feel what they threw. I sigh in relief. It was only snow.

Where I live, it snows early compared to other places. The first snow this year was in late September. Crazy, I know. It was a relief to be able to put on my sweatshirt and Converses without being labeled more of a freak then I am now. I'm not sure when exactly I decided to be a social outcast. It just kind of happened.

I am not your typical social loner. When someone looks at me in my hoodie, I can tell they think I'm some Gothic chick with died black hair and skulls and cross necklaces. Well that is definitely not me. When strangers stare at me, I let down my hood to give them a surprise. Instead of the black hair, they are stunned with a long wave of bright red hair. Natural of course. I smirk when people gawk. I don't even wear skulls either.

Now, my best friend, Gavin, is even more of a surprise. He's a lot like me, and yet so different. He dresses in black, dies his hair black, and wears the skulls. Now, that's more like your typical Goth. But, there's more to him then meets the eye. He comes across as a player, which he kind of is sometimes, but inside, he's really a big fluff ball. He writes poetry that makes a girl's heart melt, which is kind of how he gets laid every week. He also plays the drums and the guitar. I guess that's another way he gets laid too.

Don't get me wrong, he is a player. But, the poetry stuff is real. He writes from his soul, as he says. It's the way he lets out all his anger and frustration and hurt. He's had a hard life, and you'll learn about it more in time. As if he can hear my thoughts, he materializes beside me. I blink out of my daydream type state, and look over at him. He's wearing his usual black hoodie, like me, also with his hood up and iPod in. He grins at me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I grimace and wipe it off with my hand. He knows I hate when he does that.

"Do you have to be so obnoxious?" I ask him. I already know the answer, but I turn the volume on my iPod down anyway, and listen.

"Of course I do. It's why you love me," he replies nonchalantly. I snort.

"And who ever said I love you? 'Cause you are way off the mark there." He glances over at me before answering.

"You know you do. Otherwise you wouldn't have stuck around so long since..." he trails off. I sigh and look out the window into the dreary day. I can tell this day is going to suck, like always.

"Gav, I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about it." This time it is his turn to sigh.

"If I am remembering correctly, you are the one who came up with it, and I didn't agree. We do need to talk about it sometime."

"If we must, then some other time, but not now!" I hiss, motioning to the students surrounding us. "I like you better when you're drooling over some random girl you want for a night. Where's that guy?"

"That guy is coming over to your house tonight with my new friend, Marie." He raises his eyebrows up and down comically. I shake my head, resisting the urge to hit him.

"You are such a player," I murmur. He does not hear me, and looking in his face, I can tell he isn't listening anyway. I turn the volume up again, and let it drown out any other sound. Before I know it, I am drifting off into sleep. As soon as I'm in, I want to wake up.