"So, I expect you all to bring the controls for your science fair projects on Friday..."
I tuned out my science teacher, not wanting to listen to him rambling. Mr. Howell always spoke a small, quiet voice so you could hardly hear what he was saying. When you asked him how the procedure went, he always answered with "I don't know. Why don't you check in the book?"
"Luke," Michael whispered next to me. "We have to turn in our hypothesis for our science fair project."
I snapped out of my thoughts, and I saw Mr. Howell looking at me expectantly. "I—I have it," I muttered, rummaging through my backpack to give my science teacher the sheet of paper. Science wasn't my best class, but I carried a 'B', which was all right with me. The only problem was that there was the occasional homework assignment I never turned in, not to mention that Mr. Howell hated my guts.
I gave Mr. Howell the paper and he took it with an exasperated sigh. I turned to Michael who was sitting right next to me, working on his notebook. He was working on his conclusion for the previous experiment that we did. Sometimes I was envious of Michael. He was always on top of himself when it came to school. He had perfect grades, and he was valedictorian at the moment. If he didn't mess up for the rest of the year, he would receive a trophy at graduation. And then there was me, who most likely not graduating at all. Stupid math.
I leaned back in my chair, not paying attention to the video Mr. Howell showed us. A lot of the videos were entertaining, though Mr. Howell claimed they were educational and had something to do with what we were learning. I didn't believe him, unless he showed us Bill Nye.
The video ended at the exact same time the bell rang, and I rushed out of class and to the bathroom. I spent a lot of my lunchtime in the bathroom, and I didn't even need to use it. I just sat in the stall, using my phone until the bell rang and it was time for class.
hi :-)
HAI
well you seem happy
i got another ice cream today :-)
and you don't share any with me? :-(
i don't like you, that's why
you're mean
you're meaner
you're the meanest
you're meanester
you're meanesterest
why are we having this conversation
idk you started it
no i didn't! you started it!
no, YOU started it!
we argue a lot
yes we do
twenty questions?
i'll start this time :-)
*fist pumps air*
favorite fooooood?
I CAN'T CHOOSE DAMMIT what's your favorite animal? idk
i like penguins :-) sexual orientation? you don't have to answer if you don't want to
penguins are pretty awesome yo :-) tbh idk. what about you?
idk either. maybe bisexual?
i have to go class now
tsk, tsk, lucas. texting at school?
shut up. byeeeeee
haha baiiii
I stuffed my phone in my pocket as the bell rang, and I rushed out the bathroom and into the hall. I didn't want to go to math class at the moment, so I decided to look for Ashton. I was so lucky he was in my math class.
By the time I found him, he was by Michael's locker, and they seemed to be having a really heated debate. Ashton had his arm draped around Michael's waist as Michael was getting his folder for his next class, and they were both looked really passionate about whatever they were talking about.
"Hi," I said softly, making my way to the couple.
"Lucas!" Michael called out. Ashton laughed, and they both greeted me.
"So," Ashton said, moving his arm so that is was securely wrapped around Michael's shoulder, "Michael doesn't see the point in Doctor Who, and judging by the shirt you're currently wearing, I'm going to conclude that you're a Whovian like me. I wanna convince Michael that Doctor Who is very much a show worth watching, so help me, please?"
YOU EITHER LOVE DOCTOR WHO OR YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF IT. "Um... He can watch whatever he wants to, I guess."
Ashton gasped at me, and Michael only laughed and closed his locker. "But you have the Vincent Van Gogh painting on your shirt!"
I looked down at my navy blue shirt, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks. I suddenly felt that it was really cold, and I rushed to my locker where my top layer was located. I pulled the Fall Out Boy sweatshirt over my head, and I met Michael and Ashton before Michael left the hall to go to his class.
"Do you know what we're doing today?" Ashton asked me as he opened the door for the both of us. He left me go on first, and I nodded my head at him as a thank you, and I shrugged my shoulders at his question.
"Hi, Mrs. Armstrong!" Ashton greeted, giving our math teacher a big, dimpled smile. Mrs. Armstrong returned the smile to him, and the two of them started a small conversation of what happened with the Student Council. Much like Michael, Ashton was admired by all the teachers and had outstanding grades, not to mention he was the Student Council's historian.
I sat in my seat, bouncing my leg up and down, anxiously pulling a book to read. My backpack was empty the majority of the time, with only one folder to put my papers in, my math notebook, and my science composition book. The only thing that made my backpack look heavy (and made me look like I wasn't a slacker) was the large amount of books I kept in there. The first book I pulled out of the Jan Sport bag was Paper Towns and I turned to the bookmark on page 75. Sometimes I wished I could be like Margo, smart enough to send people down on a hunt and come up with the most amazing clues.
As soon as the bell rang, I put down the book and pulled out my notebook, slowly turning to where my math homework was, and I left the notebook at the corner of my desk.
"Pushpin book!" someone shouted next to me.
I turned my head to the voice, and staring at me was Rylee Jacob. I looked at her in confusion, and she pointed at my book. "You're reading the pushpin book," she repeated. I looked at my book, realizing that there was indeed a giant red pushpin on the cover. I put the book down and focused on correcting my math homework.
Mrs. Armstrong said she was coming around to check the homework, so I started to read Paper Towns again. I noticed Ashton was playing with the Legos in the back of the classroom, and everyone else around me was either still correcting their homework, drawing—like Nathan Baker, which was all he ever seemed to do—, or playing with the Legos like Ashton was. I found it interesting how we were all seniors in high school, sixteen and seventeen, yet we all went crazy finding out the Mrs. Armstrong has Legos for us to play with.
After some people asked questions about the homework, Mrs. Armstrong started to teach the lesson, and I took notes. I always took notes, but I still wasn't able to understand calculus no matter how many times I read and reread my notes.
At the end of the lesson, I packed up my stuff and got up from my seat.
"Lucas?" Mrs. Armstrong called.
I let out a small yelp at the call of my name. What did Mrs. Armstrong want? Was I in trouble? Was I going to get detention? Did she not approve of the book I was reading in class? Did she finally find out that I only do the front page of the homework and nothing else? Holy shit. I'm dead. I'm so dead.
"Erm, it's just Luke, ma'am," I squeaked out.
Mrs. Armstrong nodded, her ginger hair bouncing with her head. She looked at me with icy blue eyes, and I felt like I was going to break down at her stare. "I expect to see you at lunch, Lucas," she told me. I nodded, letting out a small and distressed sigh. I don't think she heard me correcting her for getting my name wrong... No one ever listens me anyway.
I walked out the door and into the sea of people, not looking back into the horrid classroom.
I didn't show up at lunch. I was too scared to.
✘✘✘
have i ever told you that school sucks?
i think i was the one who said school sucks
well school sucks
don't worry bby i'll save you!
haha i wish you could
tbh sometimes i feeling like dropping out :-(
don't worry, cal. we're on our very last year.
but seven months is a long time!
it'll be over before you know it. i promise.
i hope you're right, lucas.
I sighed, dropping my iPod on my bed. Like Calum, I wish I could drop out, too. But then something stops me. We're on a very last year of school. Going to a community college or one of the top ten universities in the country—that's optional. If I drop out now, I'll be living the rest of my life without a diploma, and who knows how I'll make it in life! It's not like I can suddenly become a rock star, right?
I heard whimpers as something made their way into my room, and I looked down at the animal in front of me. "Hi, Molly," I said softly. I patted the spot of my bed next to me, and she jumped on the bed, resting her mussel on my lap.
"I'm tired, too, Molly," I said while rubbing her head. "I'm tired of life. Things would be so much better if I were dead."
Molly didn't respond. She is a dog, after all.
"Would you miss me if I was gone, Molly?"
Molly only started snoring. She was fast asleep on my lap, and I could feel her hot breath on my thighs. I let out a sigh, and I carefully moved her mussel so that Molly was completely on my bed, and I got my iPod. I went on iMessage, typing one last message to Calum.
i have to go. bye.
byeeee lucas robert :-) xx
I put my iPod down abruptly, waking up Molly, but then she quickly went back to sleep. I walked around the empty house (as my parents were still gone), and I went to my mom's cabinet and grabbed a random bottle. I don't know what it had. I think it contained painkillers. I rushed to the bathroom right next to my room, locked the door, put the bottle down, and rested the palms of my hands on the brim of the sink.
I opened the bottle frustratingly, and I poured a large amount of tablets onto my hand.
Now that I think of it, I gave Calum a really crappy goodbye.
He doesn't deserve a crappy goodbye.
I don't deserve Calum as a friend.
I brought my hand up to my mouth, and as soon as the first tablet touched the tip of my tongue, I started bawling. I threw my hand down, letting go of all the pills. I fell to the ground, grabbing my knees and rocking back and forth. The tears were streaming down my face, and they burned.
Why did I have to live this life? I was a pretty damn pathetic human being. I can't even succeed in committing suicide.
After my fit, I picked up the pills one by one. I threw them into the trash can, and took the trash out to the dumpster. I put another trash bag in the can, and I was in the same position as before—resting my palms against the sink. I turned the water on, bent down, and washed my face. I went back to my room where Molly was now awake. She stood still, sitting up on my bed, and she started wagging her tail as I walked in.
I rummaged through the pile of papers I had on my desk. How the hell did I do homework at night? I threw papers onto the ground, and I found my favorite pair of scissors.
"What a waste of a perfectly good, clean wrist," I muttered.
I quickly ran the scissor leg across my wrist and I let it sting.