I tapped my number two pencil endlessly on my desk. I looked around the room to find all the other people in my class working on the essay we were assigned. Everyone except Jason. Jason never does anything in class, neither do I, but that's not the point. I don't need to do anything. On tests I know the right answer, and I never have to study. That's the great thing about not being normal. No one knows this about me. It's a secret I only share with myself.
I glanced at the clock to find two more minutes until school was over for the day. Two minutes was starting to seem like two years. I began to stare at my notebook paper. The lines just stared back at me. I didn't want to do the essay. Mr. Yale assigned us what he called 'The Non-Essay Essay'. He said it was a mini biography of our life. I smirked at myself. Like Mr. Yale even cared about our lives. All he did was sit on his chair and eat Subway during class. I never liked English anyway, it was just so, boring. All we did in that class was write and listen to Mr. Yale's chomping noises while eating a sandwich.
I stole another glance at Jason. According to Trinity and her gang that were the so-called 'Popular Girls' at my high school, Diamond High, Jason is the 'man to go for'. Lynda, who was one of the threesome in Trinity's gang, just called him plain hot and Yvonne just nodded her head in agreement. Jason, I guess, was good looking, but he was no Taylor Lautner. He had dark blonde hair with piercing emerald green eyes, nothing unusual or astounding. So I had no idea why they were falling all over him. They were pretty much on their knees kissing his feet asking if they could do anything for him.
Not literally, but I'm sure that they would.
The bell signaling that class had ended rang and I grabbed my pencil and notebook -- which was all I ever brought to English. I felt myself bump into someone. Suddenly I knew.
I knew his life story. His name was Marcus Ewing. He was a straight-A student with all AP classes. Marcus lived in a home where it was just a place to drop of illegal drugs. He didn't use them, the rest of his family did. His mom ran off with someone new each week, then comes running back home crying and whining about men. Then the next day she was gone with another one. Marcus's dad was a loser Dad. He was just, well there. He just slept in the house and went off somewhere in the mourning. His older brother, Danny, was a big bully. He called Marcus vulgar words, and beat him. Marcus had no where safe to go. School was just the same. He was picked on and banged into lockers by the jocks. He planned to kill himself after school.
I gasped. Marcus always seemed well off. I saw him being banged into lockers, but he always seemed fine with it. But afterward he disappeared somewhere.
I followed Marcus. It was totally against my will, it was something inside me that pulled me into it. Something inside of me pulls me into things I wouldn't do. Marcus went to what I assumed was his locker and did the combination. I pretended I was looking at the bricks. There was gum on the brown bricks. And all this time I thought it was an artistic choice, but no it's gum.
Once Marcus left his locker I followed him outside the school onto the bus. I took a quick glance at the number and realized that he rode my bus. I shrugged, maybe he switched buses. Marcus sat on a seat near the back and slumped down. I sat behind him. He pulled headphones plugged into a black iPod into his ears. Slowly the bus became packed with high school teenagers with tight jeans and shirts for the girls, and baggy jeans and long shirts for the guys. Ringing of cell phones, and voices started to become included in the madness. All the while, Marcus looked out the window and nodded his head to the beat of the music. I sat and listened to a conversation conducted by two preppy looking girls.
"Did ya hear? Trinity just broke up with Lenny!" A girl chipped with excitement.
"Really? I might have a chance!" Another girl said, with more excitement than the other girl.
"I don't know. Remember, they broke up last week also, then the next day they were back together."
A sigh rushed from her lips, "You're right."
I rolled my eyes. Like that was news. Trinity and Lenny had an ongoing on-again-off-again relationship ever since freshman year. You see, Trinity was your average high school cheerleader -- the kind you see on movies all the time. She had the bouncy, long, beach-blonde hair with baby blue eyes. She was the kind of girl that was popular without really doing anything except for waving pom-poms in your face and wearing unbelievably short skirts at school football games. And Lenny was the quarterback the football team. And like Trinity he had beach-blonde hair cut in a skater boy style, with baby blue eyes.
The bus driver yelled at us to shut up and started the bus. He glared at us through the mirror, I couldn't help but notice as he chomped his gum, he smirked a mischievous smirk. Call me paranoid, but I was beginning to think that he was watching my every move.
"Claria," a voice, roughly whispered in my ear causing trails of goose bumps to develop up and down my neck. I shivered and began to shake as I turned around to find the owner of this voice.
"BOO!" called the voice. I screamed and jumped about a mile high.
"That . . . was . . . epic," Jason said in between laughs.
I had to give a smirk. It was pretty funny, honestly. "Nice Jason, Nice."
"That's all? Three syllabus?"
I shrugged. What else was I going to say? "That was a wonderful act, Sir Jason,' and bow down to him? As if.
Suddenly the bus came to a stop and I lunged forward smacking my check on the leather brown seat in front of me. "Ow," I murmured putting my hand on my face. That was defiantly going to be a bruise in the mourning. Marcus then got up and stepped out of the bus. I followed him.
I didn't know if Marcus realized I was following him or not, but he was walking fast. I sped up a bit, but not too much. It was enough that I wasn't a football field behind him; I was now a few feet away. Marcus turned a corner quickly beside a slightly beaten up house. He walked into the ugly chestnut door of the house with ease. I stood looking at the house, curiously. Was this where he lived? I debated with myself. Should I go in?
I didn't have a chance. Something cold and icy, yet warm and cozy lunged me forward towards the door. I put my petite hands around the golden, arctic knob and turned it slowly. The door opened easily and I walked in closing the door behind me. I expected to find Marcus with a knife an inch away from his chest. A knife that was big, long and sharpened beyond 'just sharp'. His eyes would be closed, ready to not by opened again.
No, instead I saw Marcus, his eyes wide, with a mischievous smirk draped across his face. In his strong hand he clutched the knife directed towards me.
I gasped.
