This Chapter in Devon's Point of View! Enjoy! Please Vote and comment! :)
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Devon
September. 28. 2010
An alarm clock rang, echoing off the walls of Devon Grey’s small bedroom, sounding louder than necessary. He cringed. He hated that annoying, high-pitched sound. He’d set it last night for 6:15, but he hadn’t ended up needing it.
As he lay in bed, eyes open, wide awake, he wondered just how things had gone so wrong in the past year. In a mere year, his life had completely fallen apart. During the span of 365 days, he had lost everything. The life that had once been so close to perfect was now shattered into a million pieces.
The air in his room was chilly. Devon could see his breath, slow and even. He’d been up for a while now.
He’d been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for a couple hours, thinking.
He didn’t get any sleep the night before, he was too anxious to rest. It was the day; his first day at the renowned Bridgedale Private School, the most prestigious Private School in the country.
He’d gotten in on a scholarship. His family would never have been able to afford to send him to a school like this. Not even before, when his dad had still been with them, and especially not since he’d walked out on them, a little less than a year ago.
He didn’t know what to expect. He’d gone to school with the same people his whole life. They’d all been together; shared everything since their diaper days.
For a split second, he felt a sharp pang of regret, but almost as soon as it came, it was gone. It had been his choice to move. He’d managed to hold it together for almost a year, before he finally gave in.
It had finally dawned on him that he couldn’t stay there anymore. He couldn’t stand having to see that hell-hole of a place everyday, a constant reminder of what he’d seen and done. It looked innocent enough, a little abandoned playground, in the middle of a field. But every time he passed by, it was there, taunting him, willing him to crack, break-down and finally tell everyone, confess what had really happened the night Anthony died.
The weight of his memories pressed down on him. He applied to Bridgedale, knowing that because it was one of the best schools in the country, his mother couldn’t possibly refuse. He had told her that he wanted a better education, and she, however reluctantly, had agreed to let him go. He’d felt guilty lying to his mother, who’d always wanted nothing but the best for him, but his fear of exposing the secret overpowered his conscience.
Devon jumped out of bed, biting his teeth against the bitter cold. The heater wasn’t on, and it was chillier than it should’ve been. But what did he expect from here, in this cheap old rat-hole apartment building?
He rummaged through a pile of clothes sprawled near the foot of the bed, wondering what private school kids wore.
He wondered what Anthony, his brother, would have done in this situation. He had had it all; the reputation, the looks, the girls, everything. Had.
Every now and then, Devon thought of him; mostly when he was uncertain about something. Anthony would always know what to do – always knew what to do. He’d always looked up to his big brother. It was times like these that triggered the memories, times that left him feeling a mixture of emotions.
Feeling slightly shaken, he grabbed a shirt, his favourite leather jacket, and a pair of jeans off the floor, annoyed at himself for taking so long to choose.
Devon walked into the sad-looking space in his apartment that was apparently supposed to pass for a “kitchen” where a non-functioning oven stood sandwiched between a cupboard and a tiny, nearly-empty fridge.
The roads outside were already filling up with traffic; people rushing to get to work on time, the beeping horns of impatient drivers. He walked outside, and started towards the nearest bus stop. School was still a long way off. Glancing down at watch, he relaxed a little 6:45. Good, he thought, he still had time.
The ride to school was long and boring. He sat eyes glued to the window, but not really looking at anything. A couple times, he could feel the girl sitting across from him stare. She looked like she was probably in college. She coughed, hoping to catch his attention. Devon pretended not to notice and kept observing the glass on the window, as if there was something extremely interesting about it.
Devon wasn’t trying to be a jerk; it was just that he didn’t date. After Anthony died, something in him changed. He was no longer interested in flirting or girls. They all struck him as the same; all self-absorbed and attention-seeking.
As he was looking out the window, he still couldn’t help but notice the huge, grand, castle-sized estates. They made the apartment building he now lived in look like a rat-hole -not that it was far from it in the first place -but in comparison, it looked even more desolate, if that was possible .
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the bus came to a stop.
He hustled along the broad side-walk until he came face-to-face with a big, intimidating, chateau-like building. Surrounding it was a grand, black ornamental fence. In big, fancy letters read,” Bridgedale Private School.” He had finally arrived.
He braced himself, and walked into the massive school building.
The doors of the building were electronic. As he stepped inside, he felt a wave of warm hair hit him. There was a faint scent of what smelled like ....roses... in the air...
As he took in his surroundings, he realized the inside of the school looked rather like the lobby of the 5-star hotel he’d been in when his family was on vacation a couple summers back. He recalled how happy they’d been then. What happened?
A crystal chandelier dangled from the high ceiling. To the side, there were leather couches adorned with lavishly decorated velvet pillows. It took a moment for his eyes to take everything in.
He suddenly felt very out of place... like he didn’t belong. He shuffled towards the office to sign in, still looking around, trying to get used to this school.
A lady with brown hair that was pulled back into a bun sat at the front desk, typing away on a computer. She wore her hair like his mother always did; Devon, walking in, noticed immediately.
Deborah Grey had always worn her hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Then it wouldn’t get into the way, and it would be less of a hassle to deal with,” she’d always said.
Devon frowned; annoyed that he was already home-sick. He couldn’t go around thinking of his mother every time he saw some lady with tied up hair walk by.
The secretary looked up from what she was doing, and smiled.
“You must be Devon Grey!” She exclaimed, handing over a map of the school and some other sheets of paper.
Devon nodded, eyes darting around the office, and smiled back at her.
She pointed to the map, briefly explaining to him where his classes were before returning to her typing.
“Locker number 193, locker 193,” Devon muttered to himself looking at the map in which he’d been given. She’d drawn stars indicating where his locker and classes were. Still, in a school as big as Bridgedale, it was no easy task trying to find them.
He started walking, eyes still glued to the map, hoping that he was going in the right direction.
The hallways, like everything else in the school, were polished, shiny, and brand-new-looking.
When he closed his eyes, he could see his old school, the lockers had been rusty, metal, and worn from years of use. Bridgedale Private School was well over 50 years old, but nothing in the school gave away its age.
All he saw were rows of shiny, silver lockers with mirrored surfaces.
He stared at his reflection as he walked down the hallway. A guy with green eyes and brown hair looked back. His hair had been slightly tousled by the wind. It made him look kind of tough, he thought. A little more like Anthony.
He quickly shook the thought out of his head.
Looking back down at the map in his hands, he furrowed his brows, trying to decipher where the heck he was going.
Then, he walked into something.
His first thought was that he’d run into a wall. He stood there feeling stupid for a second. Then he heard a little yelp.
He looked up to see a girl; small, maybe around 5’2 or 5’3. She looked around his age.
“Sorry, are you okay?” He apologized.
His eyes took her in, stunned. She was gorgeous. Her cheeks were rosy, her golden hair slightly messy, she looked like she’d just come in from the cold. She was thin, so delicate. Her big eyes shone, a pale silvery grey.
Then, a flash of recognition crossed over him. He knew her! He remembered seeing her before! Memories came rushing back to him all at once.
His eyes widened. No way. Holy shit. This couldn’t be happening.
After the initial shock passed, Devon redeemed himself, hoping that his face hadn’t given too much away.
The girl looked up at him, her grey eyes meeting his green.
She gasped.
Devon felt his whole body tense up. What was she thinking? Did she recognize him? A million thoughts were going through his head, spinning, he felt dizzy, nauseous.
He pressed his palm against wall, steadying himself. Bracing himself for the worst, he looked at her again.
The grey of her eyes were now clouded, terror-stricken.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“N... n..Nothing,” she responded, stumbling on her words. She pushed past him, and rushed down the hall, face looking like she’d seen a ghost.
He let out a deep breathe that he hadn’t even realized he was holding, before shaking his head in disbelief.
Devon mindlessly ambled through the school, lost in thought, finally stopping at the right locker. Putting his things away, he sauntered off towards his Advanced Calculus class.
“Thank you for finally joining us Mr. Grey.” A soft yet firm voice broke the silence.
The voice belonged to a middle aged woman, his teacher. The look on her face was adamant, but not unfriendly.
Devon felt the gaze of thirty students boring into him.
“Uh... Hey, I’m Devon,”
A cute blonde girl in the front row whispered something to her friend. “Oh My God he’s so hot!” Her friend giggled and nodded her head in obvious agreement.
“Go ahead and have a seat,” the teacher gestured to the only empty seat in the class.
He thought about the girl. It made him really uneasy, not knowing what she was thinking. She couldn’t have recognized him, could she? Devon tried to console himself with no avail.
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts; he hardly noticed the sounds of muffled giggling and whispering of voices all around the room. Every couple of seconds, someone in the room would turn to sneak a quick glance at the “hot new kid” who seemed to be engrossed in his own thought bubble.
It had been the look on her face. Devon knew that the girl had recognized him. Something about the way her brows furrowed in the strain of confusion, then eyes suddenly widening in shock as recognition crossed over her face. He also knew that she probably couldn’t quite remember yet where she’d recognized him. Yet.
He twiddled his pencil in between his fingers, tapping it against the table in frustration. He couldn’t risk getting recognized by anyone. It was too dangerous.
“Class dismissed everyone, no homework today.”
He walked out of the room making a mental note to himself; STAY AWAY FROM HER.
It was the only safe thing to do.