out·cast
noun
a person who has been rejected by society or a social group.
"made to feel outcast and inadequate"
I swallowed, walking down the hallway nervously. I always got to school quite early, before anybody else did, usually to avoid the general human population of this high school. Today, though, I was a tad behind, and there were already a few groups of kids littering the school. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased.
I was, and I'm speaking lightly here, an outcast. Its only the natural truth, and how things should be. Its how things always have been, and always will be. I don't want friends, and I certainly don't need them. All I would do is drag them down. Don't even try to argue off with the whole "everybody needs friends!", because the truth to that is about as existent as Santa Claus.
Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against people, I just don't fit or belong among them. I am a freak, not meant to be born and not meant to be wasted even a side glance's worth of attention. That's all I am, and I'm okay with that. Even my dad would agree.
My parents used to be happy, both loved me and my powers as a whole. Rarely fought, loved each other. I didn't know about my powers for some time, though--or at least I didn't know I was not normal for having them.
Things changed in our family near the time I realized they weren't normal. Parents fought frequently, dad beat me. My mum began to become depressed. I take that it was from the constant stress of hiding my powers, from me and everybody else. She got worse and worse and worse, and one thing led to another before she was dead, found, by none other than yours truly, in the bath, soaking in her own wrist slit blood.
This all happened when I was little, of course. Time has went by, the horrifying image of her lifeless body tattooed into my brain no longer scared me, hell, It barely made me flinch anymore. Even now, with my own wrists scarred pink and raw from the cuts I made with the blade I took from my mother's room, that woman, who used to tuck me in and whisper soothing words in my ear, and who would hug me whenever I cried, and who I would hear sobbing her heart out in the other rooms at night, and who I watched slowly sink further and further into depression, and who whispered how sorry she was into my ear one night, and who I found bloody in the tub the next morning, and who made my heart ache with grief years after the funeral--that woman no longer was my mother; she was dead, gone, and rotted in the cemetery grounds, as I should be.
Alas, instead of that, I was here, at school, my hell away from hell.
I made my way down to the library, the usual place I went when given the chance to, during the mornings and lunch periods.
I pushed the doors open, finally feeling the ability to relax a little and lifted my head up, flipping my fringe from my face and tossing a soft smile at the librarian. As I was a frequent visitor, she smiled back, waving. I don't talk to her, but she's the only person I can say I trust. No, not trust, I'd say more as am comfortable around. Trust is a word I don't take lightly, and I have never used it on a person anytime after my mother died.
I hopped to the back corner, where I was well hidden from the rest of the room, two large unused, empty shelves squaring the small clatter of three cozy beanbags, a couch, and two coffee tables. I think the area was supposed to be a comfortable reading area, like the ones in a few other corners of the library, but this one seemed to have been forgotten about, given I'm the only person who ever comes back here, no matter how full the room is.
I took out my phone, falling down into a beanbag and letting my bookbag flop beside me. I let my body sink into the soft fabric, opening up the tumblr app to scroll for a bit, grinning at a few funny posts, liking and reblogging along the way. I think this may be my favorite part of the day, where I can just sit and enjoy myself, no interruptions. For twenty minutes, at least.
Then came the interruption. A loud, ringing bell from the intercom in the ceiling. I sighed, not wanting to leave my haven, but giving in anyway. I shoved my phone into my pocket, grabbing my bag and rushing to the doors.
I smiled goodbye to the librarian, who waved, like always, before turning to something on her computer. Then, I pushed my way out into the sea of people, praying not to get trampled over on my way to class.
I walked as fast as I could, bumping around like the hall was the layout of a pinball game, me being the ball. I managed to get to the classroom, rushing in and taking my seat in the back.
I was early, as always. Yet, something was off this time. There was another boy in the room, one I hadn't seen before, at least ten minutes before class started, across the room, seated. That wasn't even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that he was staring at me. Not just casual new-kid glancing around, no, he was full on staring at me.
Now, remember when I said I was an outcast? I wasn't kidding, I wasn't over exaggerating. Nobody, and I mean nobody, looks at me. I was, more or less, invisible.
It'd taken me a while to work up to that standard, to blend in so easily, because it hadn't always been that way. I used to be noticed, yes, but not in any way good. I had gotten stepped on and bullied by practically anybody and everybody, be it physically or verbally. And I took it, I didn't do anything about it. I just let it happen because, god, I deserved it.
Then, something happened. I don't know if it was just that everybody got bored, or some higher power had listened to my pleas to disappear from existence, but it stopped. Slowly but surely, it all stopped: No more beating, no more sneering, no more laughing. Nobody even looked at me anymore, all except the librarian, considering I visited her working place twice a day.
Of course, I wasn't actually invisible, meaning if I said something to somebody or forced attention on myself I'd be looked at, but I was always forgotten about shortly after.
Ah, but here I am, attracting no attention in the back of the room, being stared at by a boy I'd never seen before in my entire life. I looked behind me, to make sure he wasn't just looking at something or someone else, but there was just a blank, white wall there. I was beginning to worry I was going to be noticed and picked on again, up until I looked back at him, confusion melting across my face. He was smiling at me now. Like, actually smiling. Not a mean smile, or pity smile, a genuine, friendly, almost shy, smile.
Then it was over, another student walked in, not even giving so much of a breath in my direction before sitting down in their seat. The smiling, staring boy had turned around now, and he didn't look back at me again during the entire lesson.
-
When the bell rang, I had already taken that the new kid had forgotten about me, just as anybody else would, and rushed to the door. Apparently, I was wrong, because somebody grabbed my arm. Not in a aggressive way, it was gentle, which is why I was both confused and terrified. Gentle touches by other people and I weren't exactly familiar friends.
"Hey." A voice breathed, and I turned around, eyes wide. It was the new kid, of course. Who else would talk to me, than none other than the one person that, so far, has broken everything I stand for in a mere morning?
I eyed him cautiously, taking in his up close appearance for the first time. I couldn't see that well back in class, all the way across the room, other than he had black hair and a pale face. But holy fuck, he's attractive. His eyes were a pool of blue so deep you could probably go swimming in them, and his skin was almost pure white, a drastic different to his pitch black hair.
I knocked myself out of the short trance, back to reality. "U-Uh, Hi." I replied, words sloppy and I mentally face palmed myself for being unable to keep them together. He still hasn't let go of my arm, and I glanced down at how his pale hands grasped the fabric of my hoodie. He seemed to notice where my eyes wandered, because he yanked away quickly.
"Sorry." He said, cheeks flushing. This was weird, god was it weird. Somebody is talking to me, somebody is noticing me. I wanted to flee, run away with my protective bubble that kept me hidden from the world, the one he somehow saw through. But I didn't, I just stood there, fiddling with my fingers awkwardly. "I'm Phil." He finally spoke up. We were still standing in the doorway, and I knew I should get to my next class, given most kids were already emptying out from the hall, but my feet seemed to be melted into the spot.
"Dan." I introduced myself. "A-Are you new?" I asked quietly, watching him nod, his fringe falling over his eyes, him brushing it slowly out of his pale, blush sprinkled face. Was he nervous? Who on earth would be nervous around me, the freak, the outcast, the kid not meant to be born?
"Could you, um, show me to my next class?" Phil asked, and I nodded quickly, wanting to depart from this kid as soon as I could. He was probably just shy, and that's why he seemed so nervous and red faced.
Shy, yeah. He didn't seem so shy when he was staring at you, did he? My brain sneered, but I pushed it away.
"What class?" I asked, staring to walk down the hall. He quickly fumbled in his pocket for something, pulling out a paper I assumed was his schedule.
"Algebra 2." He said finally, looking up at me through his hair that had fell over his face again when he looked down. I almost wanted to scream, because of course, he had the same class as me next. Hell, with my luck, we probably had all the same classes.
"O-Oh. Me too, come on." I said, feigning indifference. I apparently hid my displeasure with the class arrangement well, because he smiled softly, looking relieved to know somebody in the class he'd be sitting in next.
He didn't think you were friends now because of this, did he? The question choked me, making my throat run dry with worry. I couldn't have friends, I wasn't supposed to have friends. I wasn't even meant to be born. A freak like me will only drag people down, scare them away with my stupid powers, and end up hurting all involved.
He will forget about you soon enough, and it'll be okay. Don't worry. My mind told me. I sighed in reply.
God, I hope so.