Categories > Original > Humor > Rain
Chapter 2
“Frank!” The loud, irritated-sounding voice of my younger brother sounded from downstairs. “Get up. We have that thing, you know, school!” He continued. I rolled over in my bed, the blankets wrapped around me, ignoring him. It wasn’t until my brother stormed up the stairs, threw my door open, already dressed (him, not the door) and threw a book at me, that I finally opened my eyes.
“Justin. I appreciate your persistence, but I cannot get up” I explained, my mouth feeling fluffy from sleep.
“Why can’t you?” Justin asked, sounding concerned. I turned to face him.
“Because the blankets have finally accepted me as one of their own, and I am afraid that if I leave I will lose their trust” I said, trying to sound as serious as I could when pretending to be a blanket. Justin rolled his eyes and threw another book at me.
"Just get up you idiot, I don’t want to be late” He said, before marching out the room.
I groaned, but attempted to untangle myself from the mass of blankets I had somehow collected whilst sleeping, and in doing so, managed to catch my feet on the corner of my sheet and hurl myself onto the floor of my bedroom. Now, this might not have been so bad, unfortunately, my floor is littered with various CDs, book, pencils, pointy objects and unidentifiable food. And of course, when I made my intrepid fall to the floor, I had chosen to land on a very sharp ball of tin foil that had, judging by the smell of it, once held garlic bread. I yelled an obscenity.
“Frank Mitchell Payne, I heard that!” My mother yelled at me. I ignored her, picking myself up off the floor. For a millisecond, I contemplated doing something about the mess that made my floor invisible to the human eye, and then laughed at the mere thought of making an effort over something.
Giving up on finding something clean to wear, I sifted through a pile of clothes on my floor. After a long session of sniffing various mysterious smelling fabrics, I found one that didn’t make me smell like a drunken hobo, and pulled it one. It was black (of course) with the logo for My Chemical Romance splattered across it. I pulled on a pair of grey skinny jeans, grabbed a stripy hoody, a pair of shoes then bolted down the stairs and to the door.
“Wait, Frank, do you want breakfast?” My mother asked hurriedly.
"Ain't nobody got time for that!" I responded, then hurled myself out the door, Justin hot on my heels.
Together, Justin and I ran to the bus stop as we saw the school bus beginning to pull away.
“Hey! Hey wait up! Losers in crisis here!” I yelled to the driver. The driver rolled his eyes and stopped, opening the door for Justin and I.
“Thanks” I breathed, stumbling to the back of the bus where it was empty.
Justin stayed at the front, his headphones on, staring out the window. I followed suite, putting my earphones in and hitting shuffle. I let the music take over my thoughts, resting my feet on the seat in front of me. Every now and then I glanced over at Justin, making sure he was ok. I know he loves to pretend he’s fine and doesn’t need anyone to look after him, but I’ve seen him at his most vulnerable, and let me tell you, he isn’t as fearless as he pretends to be. As we made the journey to the hell pit colloquially known as school, more and more people came on board the bus. By the time we reached school, the bus was pretty busy. There was a dude in the seat in front of me, who has glared at me until I took my feet down from the seat. Throughout the whole journey, I had been subtly kicking the back of his seat, enough to make his feel tiny pokes in the back, but not enough that it hurt.
When Justin and I left the bus, he strolled in to meet his friends, while I stood outside, looking miserably at the sign that stood outside my school.
“Hey freak!” A yell penetrated my thoughts; a yell much like that of resident school bully number 1 (there were quite a few), Christopher Drew.
I rolled my eyes and shuffled through the gates, feeling like a prisoner walking to the electric chair. I couldn’t get away that easily apparently; I felt a shove to my back from a strong arm and fell to the ground.
Above me, I heard jeers and laughs, most likely from the jocks and bullies that found it necessary to pick on me. I don’t know why they thought what they were doing was clever and impressive. I mean, someone blowing air near me could probably knock me over, given my height and weight. Well, idiots have to get their kicks somewhere.
I picked myself up off the damp concrete, brushing tiny sharp pieces gravel from my clothes and hoisting my bag back onto my back. I walked slowly inside the building, deciding to hide out near my locker. Not the best hiding place of all time, but safest before school anyway. I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for the bell to ring. I was not looking forward to class but the sooner this crap day was over with, the better.
So yes, that is chapter 2 of my story, I know the speech bits are a bit fucked up but shit's bananas. I hope it's readable. Please tell me your opinion. xomikey
“Frank!” The loud, irritated-sounding voice of my younger brother sounded from downstairs. “Get up. We have that thing, you know, school!” He continued. I rolled over in my bed, the blankets wrapped around me, ignoring him. It wasn’t until my brother stormed up the stairs, threw my door open, already dressed (him, not the door) and threw a book at me, that I finally opened my eyes.
“Justin. I appreciate your persistence, but I cannot get up” I explained, my mouth feeling fluffy from sleep.
“Why can’t you?” Justin asked, sounding concerned. I turned to face him.
“Because the blankets have finally accepted me as one of their own, and I am afraid that if I leave I will lose their trust” I said, trying to sound as serious as I could when pretending to be a blanket. Justin rolled his eyes and threw another book at me.
"Just get up you idiot, I don’t want to be late” He said, before marching out the room.
I groaned, but attempted to untangle myself from the mass of blankets I had somehow collected whilst sleeping, and in doing so, managed to catch my feet on the corner of my sheet and hurl myself onto the floor of my bedroom. Now, this might not have been so bad, unfortunately, my floor is littered with various CDs, book, pencils, pointy objects and unidentifiable food. And of course, when I made my intrepid fall to the floor, I had chosen to land on a very sharp ball of tin foil that had, judging by the smell of it, once held garlic bread. I yelled an obscenity.
“Frank Mitchell Payne, I heard that!” My mother yelled at me. I ignored her, picking myself up off the floor. For a millisecond, I contemplated doing something about the mess that made my floor invisible to the human eye, and then laughed at the mere thought of making an effort over something.
Giving up on finding something clean to wear, I sifted through a pile of clothes on my floor. After a long session of sniffing various mysterious smelling fabrics, I found one that didn’t make me smell like a drunken hobo, and pulled it one. It was black (of course) with the logo for My Chemical Romance splattered across it. I pulled on a pair of grey skinny jeans, grabbed a stripy hoody, a pair of shoes then bolted down the stairs and to the door.
“Wait, Frank, do you want breakfast?” My mother asked hurriedly.
"Ain't nobody got time for that!" I responded, then hurled myself out the door, Justin hot on my heels.
Together, Justin and I ran to the bus stop as we saw the school bus beginning to pull away.
“Hey! Hey wait up! Losers in crisis here!” I yelled to the driver. The driver rolled his eyes and stopped, opening the door for Justin and I.
“Thanks” I breathed, stumbling to the back of the bus where it was empty.
Justin stayed at the front, his headphones on, staring out the window. I followed suite, putting my earphones in and hitting shuffle. I let the music take over my thoughts, resting my feet on the seat in front of me. Every now and then I glanced over at Justin, making sure he was ok. I know he loves to pretend he’s fine and doesn’t need anyone to look after him, but I’ve seen him at his most vulnerable, and let me tell you, he isn’t as fearless as he pretends to be. As we made the journey to the hell pit colloquially known as school, more and more people came on board the bus. By the time we reached school, the bus was pretty busy. There was a dude in the seat in front of me, who has glared at me until I took my feet down from the seat. Throughout the whole journey, I had been subtly kicking the back of his seat, enough to make his feel tiny pokes in the back, but not enough that it hurt.
When Justin and I left the bus, he strolled in to meet his friends, while I stood outside, looking miserably at the sign that stood outside my school.
“Hey freak!” A yell penetrated my thoughts; a yell much like that of resident school bully number 1 (there were quite a few), Christopher Drew.
I rolled my eyes and shuffled through the gates, feeling like a prisoner walking to the electric chair. I couldn’t get away that easily apparently; I felt a shove to my back from a strong arm and fell to the ground.
Above me, I heard jeers and laughs, most likely from the jocks and bullies that found it necessary to pick on me. I don’t know why they thought what they were doing was clever and impressive. I mean, someone blowing air near me could probably knock me over, given my height and weight. Well, idiots have to get their kicks somewhere.
I picked myself up off the damp concrete, brushing tiny sharp pieces gravel from my clothes and hoisting my bag back onto my back. I walked slowly inside the building, deciding to hide out near my locker. Not the best hiding place of all time, but safest before school anyway. I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for the bell to ring. I was not looking forward to class but the sooner this crap day was over with, the better.
So yes, that is chapter 2 of my story, I know the speech bits are a bit fucked up but shit's bananas. I hope it's readable. Please tell me your opinion. xomikey
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