Lost In Black and White---- 2

I slump down the stairs and leave the apartment. My friends are pulled up to the curb, music blaring.

“Janice!” They scream and wave me over.

I hop over the door and the car screeches away as I fall into the seat.

Greg wraps an arm around me and kisses my cheek.

“Hey babe.” He whispers in my ear.

I roll my eyes and smile. His breath reeks of beer and his clothes smell like smoke, but he’s here. That’s all I can ask for. His greasy black hair falls into his copper eyes and his pale face drooped to his chin.

Just as I turn away from him, I feel a hand tugging on my tank top, pulling it slightly down.

“Baby what do ya say? Huh?” He nibbles on my ear.

He starts kissing my neck and mumbling to me.

“Please?” He begs with a smile. I push him off me and cross my arms.

“Baby, I want you right now.” He mutters and begins to lean on top of me. Annoyed and hungover I glare at him.

“Get off me, you pig.” I snap and shove him away. It’s 6:30 in the morning, who the hell wants sex now?

“You’re so sexy when you yell.” He plants his lips on mine.

“Don’t touch me.” I turn away from him.

He leans back and sighs. “Trouble in paradise huh?” Jason spoke up from the driver's’ seat in his Brooklyn accent. “Oh shut up,” Greg says. “At least I have a paradise. You don’t even have a girlfriend.”

“No thank you. I’m more of a hit and run kinda guy, if ya know what I mean.” Jason says and wiggles his eyebrows at me through the front mirror. “Big deal. You screwed Carly Hoover. Who hasn’t?” I say. “I’ll give you a hint,” Jason smiles. “His name starts with a G and he’s sitting right next to you.”

“Hey Jason, I think you’ve got a little something in your teeth. Its called shut the fuck up.” Greg says and wacks Jason on the head lightly. “Oops I guess your secrets out.” Jason says.

“Not a secret if everyone already knows,” I say. “you never fucked Carly Hoover.”

“Everyone knows I’m only screwing you, babe.” Greg jokes and messes up my hair. I raked my hand through my hair, trying to fix the damage. “Don’t joke about that shit.” I snap. He put his hands up in defeat and shook his head.

When I get to school, I watch Greg and Jason drive away. People file in the school, eager to get to their first hour, before the final bell. Sitting down at my desk in the back of the class, I put in my earbuds, hiding them with my hood.

Mr. Nelson walked in and said his daily greetings. I liked Mr. Nelson, he was nice enough. His plump belly hung tightly against his shirt and his second chin folded out toward the class. He wasn’t the hot teacher, or the nerdy teacher. He was the nice teacher. But he cared too much for his students. He’s too emotional with his job and his kindness was the thing that I hated.

He flashed a huge cheesy smile at me and pointed to his ears. I took out my earbuds slowly, challenging his jolly attitude. Giving me a fat, knuckled thumbs up, he took a look around the class. “Good Morning class!” he said his smile never leaving his chubby face. He clapped his hands together once and grinned from ear to ear. He kind of reminds me of a fat Easter bunny that never stops smiling, why an Easter bunny? Must be my messed up mind.

“Time to wake up and get some knowledge in our sleepy brains!” He exclaims as everyone outwardly groaned. He always referred to the class as “us” and “we” because “Students teach me something new everyday!” Leaning back in my chair, I glanced around, a habit I grew into over time. The usual people were here. Brandon “Crater Face” Dawson sat in the front row, his glasses fogged up and papers jumbled. His face was littered with thousands of pimples and blackheads. Some days it was difficult to tell if he actually had skin. Shuddering a little I turn my head to the other side. Jay Forrester sat next to me. I liked him, he was nice enough, and at least funny. Everyday he’d make the same remark as soon as he sat down “I hate this fucking class.” I popped my earbud back in and sunk into my music. I’ve grown into not talking. It's not that I don’t feel comfortable talking to people but I just never feel like it.

I don’t want to litter the air with my useless nonsense. I much prefer watching. Everyone is so transparent. I mean the twins sitting on opposite sides of the class, Pam, the mean one, has zero self esteem. She always takes cheap shots at Ashley, her identical twin. Whenever Ashley makes a mistake, Pam is the first to make fun of her. Not in a-she's-my-sister way, but in a mean I-wish-you-were-never-born way. Because of course Ashley is the smarter, prettier, and funnier one, somehow. Not that either of them are the prettiest of faces.

Soon Mr. Nelson’s large figure blurred and I quickly drifted into my own world. Lost between the booming sounds in my ears, the constant voice in my head and Mr. Nelson's body walking from one side of the room to the next.

“Hey,” Someone whispered. I looked to my right and saw Aaron Harper. The biggest jackass that ever existed. He’s a sort-of-rich spoiled brat. His parents don’t have too much money, but they give little A-ron whatever he wishes. His parents are like the Genie in Aladdin, except they don’t give three wishes, they give unlimited.

“What?” I ask taking out my right earbud, annoyed he pulled me out of my haze of obscurity. He obviously doesn’t care that I was deep in thought, he only was worrying about the fact that he wants to talk to me. He probably forgot a pencil to stick in his ear all hour.

“You're Janice right?” Aaron asks from the desk next to me.

“Yea, that’s my name.” I respond and shove the earbud back in my ear.

“You should come to my party, I have one every week.” The boy states; breaking through my music.

“A party?” I question, summoning a cheesy smile to my face.

“It’s sort of my thing, having huge parties. It's my legacy.” He responds.

“Wow that sounds fun!” I reply, the smile still playing on my lips.

“So you’ll be there?” He wonders, sounding accomplished.

“No.” I frown and turn away from him. I wouldn’t be caught at one of those rich kid parties. They’re lame and pathetic. If I wanted to get drunk or high I’d go to the pit. Where there's no snobby assholes just there to piss they're parents off. Just people needing to escape the world and avoid their lives.

I slump down into my seat as I felt myself drift back into my special little world. What an amazing thing, to see and not be seen.

When the bell rang it woke me from my beautiful cloud of nothing. I stood and threw my bag over my shoulder. Sleepily I walked to the door but was stopped at the exit. “Janice,” Mr. Nelson said. “Can you stay after class?” I glance up at him and nodded. I trudge back to his desk and took out an earbud, so I could hear him.

“Look,” he said. “I can’t keep pretending that you're passing my class.” I shrugged and took out my other earbud. I pushed back my hood and looked him in the eye, glaring almost. “I hate to fail out a student but it looks like you're on that path.” he said. Panic rose up my throat, but I choked it down and remained calm. Nodding I wasn’t really sure what to say. “But,” He began. “I know you can write a pretty amazing paper. So I want you to write me a paper on anything, poem, article, whatever you want. And if you get an A, I will give you a D to pass the class.” He explains, his jolly smile gone. Now his lips seemed to turn upside down, drooping. I nod and leave his class without a goodbye.

Write about anything? What does that even mean?