Leaning against the wall and breathing the crisp mid-winter air, I breathe deeply and blank out. The buzzing of random conversation filled my ears and mind as students milled around me. I’m able to catch random snippets of sentences as teenagers stand around in the car park gossiping.
“So then I...i got the job…no way! ...omigosh you wouldn’t....hahaha! …what’s first period class today? ...” I am listening but not listening at the same time. I rub my temples and groan. I hate the noise of public places. I stick my earphones in and turn up the volume of my cherry red i pod and close my eyes. House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance screams into my brain. There. Much better. I am just tapping my foot to the beat when a packet of corn chips flies into my head. My eyes snap open and I see my best friend and partner in crime, Ren. I pull out my earphones.
“Music loud enough, sunshine?” I grin and pick up the chips. She flops against the wall next to me.
“Man I’m fuckin’ tired” she groans. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a packet of curly fries. She loves those things. I mean, it is literally all she eats. She stuffs a handful in her mouth and chews furiously. A group of girls walking past stare rudely. I guess you can’t blame them. She isn’t your typical year 10 student. Her ink black hair is cut into a messy crop; sticking out at all angles except for a long hair wrap threaded with red wool and a tiny little silver skull hanging down behind her left ear, which is pierced in every possible bloody place. Her right ear, on the other hand has a silver bar running vertically through it and several little studs in fluorescent colours. She has a crimson stud in her nose and a thick silver spike in her right eye brow. She is wearing the school shirt (a button up white blouse. She has sewn a little chibi zombie over the school emblem) with black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket.
“Freak” one of the girls mutters. Carrie Jones. Ren and Carrie have been enemies since preschool.
“Drop dead bitch” Ren growls through her mouthful. I laugh and ruffle her black hair. She is at least two feet shorter than me, which is pretty short considering I’m just above five foot. She steps on my foot with her converse clad one and mock glares at me, causing me to laugh more.
“You psycho. You’re ruining my rep.” I say. She scoffs.
“What rep, Claire? Dude, I AM your frigging rep.” I am laughing at this when I am suddenly pulled into a giant bear hug and fighting for breath. After a few seconds I hear Rens’ voice, slightly muffled by the immense form now hugging me.
“Uuuh, Rickie, I believed you have killed her.” I am immediately released. I fake gasp and double over. Ren pats me on the back. I look up and grin. Rickie my other best friend in the whooole wide world (yeah, I know I sound like a little kid but I am a very immature person) is grinning right back. We call him spawn of Satan sometimes. He has red-brown eyes, spiky blond hair and a toothy grin. He has three piercings in each ear (yes my friends have fetishes with piercings) and a dragon tattooed down his neck and back. His white school shirt is unbuttoned and under it he wears a dark purple tee shirt that says ‘no music no life’. His electric guitar is strapped to his back and a studded cuff adorns his wrist.
“G’day Claire-face. Rennie.” I don’t even try to work that one out. Rickie has appointed himself the nickname creator or something like that. The fact that the names he comes up with never make sense makes it all the funnier.