•••
[Song: Sk8er boi by Avril lavigne]
•••
"Lucas 'eye-candy' friar and sweet cinnamon roll Farkle"
•••
"Alright? If anything happens just call me."
"Oliver! Relax,we've got this.
You need to go to school now if you want to drop by that drummer guy." Exasperated Rachel throws herself down into the nearest armchair, "I can handle this I'm five years older than you!"
Oliver just rolls his eyes and throws his bookbag onto his back and grasps his trusty skateboard, heading for the door.
"And yet I'm still in charge."
•••
"Just show up, bring the money and we'll get you a sweet new drum kit. No more trash cans and you can get some proper practice."
Oliver turns to leave not giving Dweezil a chance to speak, only getting three strides away before shrugging of his bag and reaching in. He pulls out folded blue wool, tossing it his loyal friend and customer.
Dweezil catches the fabric and opens his mouth to ask about it but Oliver beats him to it,
"It's a present, you'll look cool in it- By cool I mean cute."
Dweezil doesn't stop the crap-eating-grin on his face when he slips the beanie over his long dark hair.
"Thanks 'lee; see it matches my outfit and everything!"
Oliver gives a lazy salute and winks before turning and carrying on his way.
Dweezil's music echoing in his ears, along with the shouts of a weird brunette being a 'chick' and her slouching blonde friend, as he leaves Bleecker street station.
•••
It was twenty three minutes past eight when Oliver arrived to his new school- 'John Quincy Adams middle school'.
He headed to the office. Passing a tall, rather gorgeous Boy- if people who look like that go to school here maybe it wouldn't be all bad.
After a quick three minutes getting his schedule and locker code, (and four minutes memorising his map) he started to slow-walk to history.
As soon as he got around the corner, Oliver was on his skateboard and racing to Mr. Matthews class.
The main door, at the front of the history room was left open giving Oliver a perfect view inside.
"Lucas Friar, from Austin, Texas." The sweet, sweet eye candy from before was stood in the classroom handing his transfer slip and late pass over to who Oliver could only assume was Mr. Matthews.
Distracted by just how fast he was approaching rather narrow doorway- he didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation.
He wasn't about to fall off his board and embarrass himself in front of the people he has to spend everyday with until he's expelled.
Breath in. Breath out.
Nice and calm.
With confidence he did not have, Oliver flew into the room. He kicked down his right foot, his left lifting with the board to stop. He hops down before repeating the motion with his right foot and the board shoots up into his awaiting hand.
"Who are you?"
That seemed to break the class out of there shock.
The two girls In the front row turn to each other,
"Skater boy!"
Oliver turns to the teacher holding out his transfer slip and late pass.
"If you hadn't already guessed, I'm a new student."
The teacher hums as he reads the slips and sets them down on his desk,
"Well Mr. Mendoza, take a seat.
I should warn you if I see that board again I will have to confiscate it."
"I should warn you, you are not taking my board." Oliver shoots him a painfully-false-grin before walking to the open desk and throwing himself down. Opening his bag to pull out his equipment.
Lucas 'eye-candy' friar finally sat himself down behind the brunette girl and next to the adorable cinnamon roll in a turtleneck- who Oliver was the other side of.
"Your both in time for today's assignment." Said Mr. Matthews.
Oliver doesn't stop the zombie worthy groan from leaving his lips.why in the world did Rachel send him to school early!
After turning the oddly familiar brunette around Mr. Mathew starts to teach.
"So, I'd like you guys to open your books to page 48."
The entire class does so.
"Now, I'd like you to turn to page 1."
The class does so in sync, once again.
"Now, I'd like you to read from page 1 to 48"
This time Oliver reading the only one to let out a zombie worthy groan.
"Oh, too bad on you. Okay, so for tonight's assignment, I'd like you to write me a three page essay on anything. Anything at all, that you guys believe in so strongly, you fight for it." Says Mr. Matthews.
Seriously on his first day, if this is his first lesson, if all his classes are like this he'll have fifteen essays due for Wednesday!
"That." It was the blonde girl who spoke up, "I'd fight for no homework. I come here every day; why can't you teach me everything I need to know while I'm here."
Her brunette friend cheers, until she sees the look from the teacher.
"Not woo!"
Oliver can't help but mutter, "ain't that the truth."
"He gets our days, let's take back our nights. No homework, more freedom!"
The blonde was standing now trying to rally the class.
"Who's with me?"
The class wastes no time joining in the chant, apart from eye candy friar, the cinnamon roll, weird but familiar brunette and Oliver.
"Sorry, I promised I wasn't gonna join or start a protest on my first day." Said Oliver shrugging at the blondes expecting look.
"No homework, more freedom!
No homework, more freedom!
No homework, more freedom"
The blonde turns to her friend, "This is it, kid. You wanna be like me? Stand up."
"No homework, more freedom!
No homework, more freedom!
No homework, more freedom!"
The girl stands up only for Mr Mathews to ask what she's doing.
"I'm making a choice about who I want to be, about whose world I want it to be."
"Riley, I know you. You know exactly who you are" states Mr. Matthews.
So weird-oddly-familiar-brunette is called Riley, good to know, thinks Oliver.
Riley the smiley- knowing him he would end up giving her a nickname.
"Then who am I, Dad?"
The teacher is her dad? Well Oliver can't upset Riley, too bad then.
"You're just like me."
Wrong thing to say dude, she's trying to declare independence not be a clone.
"Oh, yeah? Would you do this?" She stands fully and starts punching the air with the rest of the class,
"No homework, more freedom!
No homework, more freedom!"
She marches down the rows, slowing by the cinnamon roll,
"Farkle, are you with us or not?"
So the cinnamon roll is called Farkle. Do his parents hate him that much, who calls there kid Farkle- that's got to be some form of child abuse?
The name was pretty unique though; it seemed to suit the boy quiet well and the more Oliver said it in his head the more it grew on him.
The chanting echoes as the class -lead by Riley the smiley and her short blonde friend- march down the corridor.
Farkle stands up and heads to Mr. Matthews.
"My education? Or my women?
My education? Or my women?
My education? Or my women?"
He stops spinning and faces the teacher, "Oh, it's happening again, sir." He collapses back into Mr. Matthews arms.
"Should we take him to the nurse?"
"Probably"
•••
[1241 words]
Thanks for reading,
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