The Beginning of the End (Newtmas)

Chapter 2

I was gonna update this before 2015 but this took me longer to write than I thought it would :O

The week had passed, Friday had come along and his mum wasn't back yet. He was a little worried, seeing as it was his mother, but she'd been gone for a week once, so for now he chose not to do anything about it. On Fridays, Newt would normally have a night in, no homework, just a few movies he'd choose to watch. Today, however, he knew he'd have to be at that game. He'd been reminded by everyone the last couple of days, and as much as he just wanted to tell them to shut up, he couldn't.

So now it was Friday and the game would be at five. Newt ended at three thirty, but he didn't bother to go home after school because walking takes time, and he didn't see the point. He was currently walking to school again, wearing his usual attire consisting of jeans, a button down, and a jacket if it was cold, which today it unfortunately was. The thing that was unusual for Newt was not to have a cigarette on the way, but it was only because he'd left them in his locker yesterday. Last night when he noticed, it had driven him mad, and his room was a mess now. He was glad that his mum wasn't home that evening because if she would've heard the commotion from upstairs he'd be arriving to school with a black eye.

Newt passed the field on the way to the entrance, and he saw the team practicing. He'd never say it out loud, but he really wanted the other team to win. So for their sake, he hoped they were as good as everyone made them out to be. He wanted his school to lose, maybe it was stupid, but he didn't like these people.

He had to attend history first. It was not a subject he liked to learn about, but the teacher was good and he at least knew how to make it slightly more interesting than the past history teachers had. After that class, he'd have to have cooking and math, then he'd head on over to lunch, which in his case was going to his tree.

The parking lot was on the other side of the lacrosse field across from him. Newt was sitting on a log he'd placed next to the tree himself, so he'd always have a place to sit when he came here. Right now he was sitting there, cigarette placed firmly between his chapped lips, and he was glancing at the bus' on the other side of the field. It's the other school. They're probably here for practice and to get a tour. They're staying tills tomorrow morning apparently. That would be a Saturday, so no one is going to notice when they leave, but maybe they don't want to travel at night. Newt couldn't see the people coming out of the bus because they were too far away from him, but he could make out colors, and they were all wearing the same maroon colored jersey. That's probably their schools color, or however those things work. Newt didn't exactly know, because he didn't occupy himself with these things, so instead he just assumed.

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"You should now see the crystal start to form in front of you." Newt looked at the beaker placed in front of him on the table, to see that a crystal was in fact taking shape. A knock on the door startled him, as he had been busy observing what was on his table. He could see the teacher from the corner of his eye, heading towards the door to open it. Newt didn't care much for who it was, so he didn't glance up until the teacher asked for everyone to stop and pay attention. He looked upwards to see a few boys all around his age, wearing maroon jerseys. He instantly knew that it was the other team, but he wasn't interested, and he looked back at the now fully formed crystal in front of him.

"Newt, it's rude not to pay attention." Newt looks up to see the teacher looking at him, and some of the boys on the team are laughing. There's one that stands out. He's not laughing like the rest, but he's smiling and keeping consistent eye contact with Newt. I wonder who that is?

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself Newt?" Newt wants to scream at the teacher for calling him out, and for making everyone look at him.

"I- I'm..." He stutters and drifts, not knowing what to say to the man in front of him.