old: What He Said

-Prologue-

Albert Einstein, one of the most famous people in the world - part and present - once said that there are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
Like a philosophical scientist.
My father told me that. He was pretty big on the whole philosophy thing; spent pretty much his whole life procrastinating and contemplating.
Said it livened the soul, or something.
I can almost remember him, actually - almost. How he used to smile every morning over his latest novel; or even how he always found spare change to give to people on the street. He said they needed it more than we did, which was totally true, I guess.
Yeah, my dad was a decent man. A good man.
Shame it never did him much good. He went to prison anyway.

***

-Chapter One; Ice-

She usually sat alone in the more subdued corners of the cafeteria, her dark hair shielding her face from prying eyes.
She didn't eat much; actually, I'm having trouble recalling a time when I've ever seen her eat. At least, at lunchtime.
Maybe she was just not hungry. I don't know.
Like I said, she was always alone. The funny thing was that she didn't seem to mind it; she never looked up, never gave a glance to the rest of us.
I thought she was different; in a weird way.
"Yo, man."
I glanced up to see a short black kid with dreadlocks. My lips formed a smile. "Hey, Paul."
"What you starin' at?" he asked curiously, his eyes trained on my tray of food. I pushed it over to him without a fight, not hungry.
"Nothing," I mumbled.

"Cool sht," Paul mumbled around a mouthful of chips, and I could feel my nose wrinkle in disgust.
He caught sight of the expression; "Shut up, Alistair."
"I didn't say anything."
He rolled his eyes. "I'll eat how I want to eat."
"Try put the food IN your mouth though, yeah?"
"Shu'up!"
"Dude, say it, don't spray it."

He proceeded to give me an affectionate middle finger. "What's got you in PMSing so bad anyway?"
My eyes narrowed. "You little sh-"
"Aren't you rainbows and sunshine today? Look, if you're gonna be a btch, I'm just gonna go sit 'side someone else."
I snorted. "Right, fine. See you, Paul."
We stared at each other for a moment, before both our faces widened to a smile.
"What's up with you anyway?" he pushed further; weird as he can be, Paul's a good guy, and I guess you could say I'm lucky to call him my best friend.
'Lucky'.

"Nothing," I mumbled, tapping the table half-heartedly.
He stared at me with an eyebrow raised. "Y'sure you don't wanna talk about it?"
My gaze snapped to his. "Do I look like I want a heart-to-heart?"
"You always do. Little camp boy."
"Lighting a campfire right now," I replied sardonically. "I'm not camp. Jacey, rememb-"
He cut me off with a loud groan. "How could I forget the face-scker!?"
I winked. "That's not all she can do."

A voice cleared behind me. "What exactly can I do, Alistair? Hmm?"
My eyes widened as Paul hurried to hide the huge smirk on his face behind his hand.
"Uhhh..." I replied like the genius I am, turning to see my girlfriend standing behind me, one hand holding a can of coke and the other on her hip expectantly.
Her plucked eyebrows rose.
"Hi, sweetheart."
I gave her a sweet smile, trying to soften her. "Hey, babe... I was just saying how you can totally light up my day with your presence?"
Paul fake-gagged.

"Aww," she cooed sarcastically. "Aren't you sweet?"
Her tan face then smoothed into an amiable smile. "I'm just kidding, Leelee. Here, budge, let me sit."
Paul tried to hide his laugh. "Leelee," he coughed, winking at me.
"Fck you."
"Jaceypoo'd get jealous."
She rolled her dark eyes at our banter. "You both are idiots."
"Then leave?" Paul asked hopefully. I'd zoned out by this time; this sort of stuff isn't new or anything. I have to listen to it every day.
Every single lunchtime.
Without fail.
And don't ask me why they hate eachother; I don't have a goddamn clue. I mean, I can see why Paul doesn't get along with Jacey. He thinks she's a btch, which is fair enough considering she really is, to him.
She hates him because... I don't know, his dreadlocks? Dunno.
Nevertheless, I know they don't get along. It's not ideal.

 

old: The Wonders of the Platypus

Everytime someone asks me what my favourite school subject is, I lie and tell them it's English.
I mean, there are a lot of good reasons to love English, in my opinion. It's an epic language, for one thing. The teacher - Mr. Goldmint - is a decent teacher, despite his oversized white beard and tendency to roll his R's.
No, my favourite subject isn't English.
The only reason I lie is that my reasons for loving my favourite subject aren't entirely acceptable. I mean, it's kind of embarrassing, really.
It's hardly like I can say, "Oh, yeah. I look forward to Biology all the time, just because she's in it."
No, that'd never work.
She's not good enough a reason, to them.
To me, though? Well, she's perfect.

***

First thought when I walked through the classroom door to find my class for the next year?
Come on, I'm sure someone wants to hear it.
Here it is; Am I on a fcking reality show?
"Nick, my man!"
My gaze slides across the room to catch sigh of Jimmy Piner, a fellow soccer player and good friend as of right now.
"Hey! Jimmy, what's up, man?" I plaster a grin on my face and stride through the maze of desks to him; unsurprisingly, he and his group of mates have chosen a bunch of desks near the back of the room.
I sigh mentally. Great. Another year of trying to hear the teacher over a bunch of jocks getting high off themselves - what could be more enjoyable?

"I didn't have a clue you were gonna be in this class," Jimmy practically shouts at me over-excitedly.
"Yeah, well," I shrug half-heartedly. "Lucky me."
I don't expect Jimmy to catch the sarcastic tone; he's one of the many at our school who major in the athletic part of the school curriculum

"That's great man, really. It's great. We'll have one mother-fcker of a time, just you wait," he crows. Loudly.
What the hell is a mother-fcker of a time?
"Uh, sorry though, man," he booms in my ear - this guy really needs to learn to speak at normal volume; it's hardly like we're on the soccer pitch right now.
"What?" I say to him calmly, trying not so smile at his puzzled expression.
"Didn't save you a seat," he laughs - again, loudly.

Let's just assume Jimmy's loud the majority of the time.
"That's cool, Piner. There's a bunch of spare seats." I'm kinda relieved that he hasn't saved me a seat; no reputation-demanded obligation to sit beside him and have an eardrum blown out daily.
"Nah, here, I'll grab you a seat," he grins at me, flicking some of the sandy-brown hair from his fringe out of his eye.
"No, it's coo-"
I cut off mid-sentance in surprise as Jimmy walks over to a kid a few seats away and starts shouting "twerp" in his face.
The fck?

"Nick, why the hell is Jimmy screwing that kid over? He's just about shat himself."
To my left stands Lawrence; he's a pretty decent guy, even though we don't talk much. I grin slightly, and he returns the smile questioningly.
"Dunno. Wants to get me a chair or something?" I snort, raising an eyebrow.
Lawrence chuckles. "Well, isn't that a shame. Poor kid Jimmy's chosen."
"Yeah," I mumble, nodding. "What's 'twerp' mean?"
Lawrence laughs, rolling his eyes. "Shu'up."

Lawrence Solenar. I think he's a musical genius or something - I can remember him getting some prize for his piano skills a couple years ago.
He keeps his dark hair cropped close to his scalp, but it suits him; his glasses, a large-rimmed affair, give him the look of geek-and-proud. He's got a cap on loose, and his green checked shirt's unbuttoned over a white tee.
I don't talk to him much, but I think, given that we'll be in the same class for a while, we'll start talking more. I mean, I know he's a cool guy, so.
Looking around, I try to assess the rest of the class - and if it's a decent one - while trying to block Jimmy's insistent nagging on at the 'twerp'.

Standing near the central system of desks are Daphne and her girls; they're all pretty much pasted in make-up, drenched in enough perfume to choke someone and giggling in high voices. It's kinda a shame, considering that they think they're crazy hot.
Uh, no.
Sorry.
I can be a bastrd sometimes. Oops.
Anyway, there are some other people dotted around the room. Just random kids, mostly. No-one I'm close friends with.
I sigh.