FicWad

I woke with a shudder. Having had the same dream for over a year you would've thought I'd be used to it by now. But, no, every night it was the same dark, twisted tale that ruined my dream world.

I rolled out of bed and went downstairs to start making coffee. Mum was up and dressed already. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said, sounding flustered, she must’ve been in a rush. “Morning,” I replied groggily. I put the granules in the coffee machine and then I walked to the bathroom to have a quick shower. I climbed out, dripping water all the way back to my room. I quickly blow-dried my short, black pixie cut hair and threw on a pair of old ripped jeans and a Misfits hoodie. I went downstairs and there was absolute silence which meant my mum had left for work (she’s a lawyer). I quickly drank my coffee, that was pretty much cold, and left the house to set off for school.

Autumn leaves, olive green and burnt orange, crunched beneath my Converse covered feet as I walked through the chilly, early sunrise of October.
This was my favourite kind of weather. Not too warm. Not too cold. Just right. God, this is starting to sound like Goldilocks and the three fucking bears.

Let me introduce myself, my name is Rain. Rain Harper. I'm sixteen and I have a little sister called Rebecca and I live with my mum. We don't speak about my dad. At all. I have a black and white cat called Noodles that constantly brings me 'presents' from the back yard. Presents such as dead frogs. I used to have a goldfish called Peanut but he now lives in the fish bowl in the sky because Rebecca thought it would be fun to take Peanut for a walk. Dumb, I know, but she is only two. Seriously though, poor Peanut.

The school, which is more commonly known as the Hell Hole, was getting gradually closer with every step I took. Sigh. My first lesson was English, fun. No, seriously, I love English. I’m quite an empathetic person so I can understand different authors’ points of view and still have my own opinion on the book.
The teacher, Mr Knowles, said that today we would be starting a book called ‘Martyn Pig’ and it’s about a boy who kills his own father. I was tempted to rent it out of the library over the weekend to read because he had made it sound so good, but that’s what Mr Knowles does; he builds things up so that you really look forward to them and then enjoy the subject. I don’t know a single person in the whole school who doesn’t like Mr Knowles, there’s just something about him that draws people to him and even when he tells a student off, he does it in a way as to not make the student loathe him afterwards. I got fairly good grades in most of my subjects, except French.

God, I hate French. Not French people and their food, that’s all good. Just the language, so many different words to learn; some of them the same in English and some of them nearly a sentence long on their own. It doesn’t help that the teacher is a bitch too. Mrs Jolibous (yes, a ‘Mrs’, which I totally don’t understand because anyone who would want to marry her definitely has a death wish, I don’t know, maybe she’s just a good fucker or something) lives to make her students life a hell. One time, a boy called Martin in my class forgot the word for ‘spider’ and she went ballistic; talking about how, if he was like that in that class then he was surely worse in other classes as well. Apparently, she thinks that French is the easiest thing ever, probably because she is French but that’s beside the point, she’s still a bitch.

I opened the doors and immediately slipped straight on my arse in front of everyone on the freshly waxed linoleum floors. Laughter and embarrassment was all I could hear and feel. I quickly got up, acting as though nothing had happened, and walked in to my form room, my face bright red from the embarrassment. Yet another thing to be added to my list of things people can make fun of me for, as well as being an ‘emo dyke’. I hate school; everyone ostracizes me for being me because apparently the ‘emo dyke’ was me. I had two friends but that’s all I needed.
Frank Iero and Ray Toro. Frank had been my friend since Year 3 when he moved to England from New Jersey in America, we instantly clicked and he’s my ‘gal pal’ as I like to call him because he is very, very camp. Me and Ray are the only people who know he’s gay, not even his parents know, probably because they’re Catholic and would completely disown him if they found out. Ray Toro was not gay, but he’s very brotherly, he takes care of me and Frankie as if we were his siblings, it comes naturally to him, I guess, because he already has, like eight brothers and sisters but, hey, I’m not complaining, it’s nice to have someone look after me other than my mum and even she doesn’t look after me, she works so much. I’m surprised my little sister even knows who she is; mum’s hardly ever in the house and Rebecca is always being looked after by a babysitter.

“Hey look Rain; it’s your faggot boyfriend!” Charles, a completely incompetent yob, shouted from across the room. I saw Frank flip him off and walk towards me, opening his arms for one of his special ‘Rain Hugs’. I wrapped him in a warm, comforting embrace and asked him how his weekend was.
“It was okay, a bit weird actually. I think my dad suspects I’m gay; we went fishing and I tried explaining to him that I didn’t want to, you know, because I’m vegetarian and all that jazz and he looked at me like I was an alien…”

“Don’t worry I’m sure he only thought it was weird because he loves fishing so much and you obviously don’t,” I said. “And don’t worry; if they ever find out and hate you afterwards, you can come and stay with me and be my other sister at home.”

“Thanks, Rainy,” He said, laughing, “I’m pretty sure my parents wouldn’t say anything if they only suspected though. What lesson do we have first?” Yet another thing I love about Frank; he fought with the headmaster of our school till we had exactly the same timetable. Frank says he did it because he loves me so much, I say he did it so he didn’t have to remember anything. But I don’t mind.
“English with Mr Knowles,” I replied. Frank sighed, he has the biggest crush on Mr Knowles and I don’t blame him either really. Mr Knowles has the sort of golden hair you want to run your hands through and the sort of aquamarine eyes you could stare into for hours. And today, I can, because we have a double lesson. Two hours of listening to Mr Knowles talk about Martyn Pig and how he killed his father. Miss Violet took our register and we left our form room.

On the way to English I slipped again but Frank caught me before my butt hit the floor and we then entered EN2, our English class. Frank and I sat down and waited for class to start; we were early again. Me and Frank are always early to English because it’s both our favourite lesson. About three minutes after we’d sat down, the class started to fill with students. “Today, guys, we have a new student, Mikey, please stand up,” and a cute, nerdy kid with knobbly knees, glasses and an Anthrax shirt stood up.
I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed him, he was pretty cute. Mikey stood up and looked around the class; he caught me staring at him and smiled at me. I would love to say I flashed him a beautiful smile and waved and we started talking and hit it off immediately. But no, I smiled like an awestruck, gawky nerd because, really, that’s what I was. “Please, Mikey, tell us where you’re from and why you moved here,” Mr Knowles said, then we waited.