Magicae High: Solangelo Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1:

I paid my fee to get into the football game, only to run into a cranky teacher in the first step I take. I was blasted with young man, you may not have that hood up and why do you have that on anyway? It’s 76 degrees outside! and a whole ton of shit like that. I rolled my eyes at the teacher, to whom I distinctly remember as one of the counselors at my new school.

Great counselor, huh?

She kept yelling at me until I rummaged in my pocket. After she asked me what I was doing, I whipped out a note from my father and my doctor, Dr. Phoebus.

(it might be of note to say that the doctor was all my psychiatrist, therapist, and check-up doctor for family reasons. thank goodness for that; i would hate to have even more people know of my condition)

To whom it may concern,
Nico DiAngelo is allowed to have his hood up due to
various medical conditions involving his face
to prevent psychological damage from possible
bullying at Magicae High School.
Signed by
Dr. Phoebus Roman,
PhD
and
Hades DiAngelo,
Director of DiAngelo Funeral Homes
and father to Nico DiAngelo.

The counselor made a little “o” shape with her mouth and handed the note back to me, expressing her dearest apologies. I shrugged and pushed past her, determined to find a seat that isn’t filled with sluts and jocks trying to hook up with each other and cheating on their significant other or PDA or something. I just wanted to be alone; I couldn’t believe that Dad made me go to this stupid game.

You can make friends, he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

Unfortunately, even below the bleachers were filled with students, at least on the home team’s side. I glanced at them. One of the kids had long, dirty blonde hair and zits peppering his face. Another one had red hair in an asymmetrical cut and looked vaguely Irish. Another girl looked Hispanic or Cherokee or something. They looked like they were having fun, which meant that I probably wouldn’t be able to join their group.

Oh well. Sorry, Dad.

I found a mostly empty place at the top corner of the bleachers to watch the game. I curled myself into a ball and watched the Eagles vs the Cyclops battle to win a pigskin elongated double triangle cone thing from the vicinity and safety from underneath my hood. Some people stared at me, but I was used to it. I was the freak who wore the hood on his head, probably for some kind of creepy medical reason. I’ve seen and heard it all.

As I watched the Eagles gain another touchdown -- the fourth one in a row, blast them -- I grew bored. Eventually, I got up, put my hands in my pockets, and made my way towards the snack stand. I wasn’t hungry, but going there and watching people munch on snacks sounded better than watching teenagers beat the shit out of each other for a pigskin elongated double triangle cone thing.

I sat down at an empty table and watched people eat, albeit a bit creepily. Several people stared at me even more, but I didn’t care. They couldn’t see me under the hood. They didn’t know what I was doing. They didn’t know that I was staring at them.

Then something made me stop. Another girl was staring right back at me. She seemed like one of those kids in school -- the ones who have sex in sixth grade and do it every week ever since. She even had the stereotypical looks as well; she had bleached blonde hair with pink highlights, a blue tube top, and a white miniskirt. She wore a long black coat so she wouldn’t get in trouble with any of the teachers and some combat boots. Her face would have been pretty if she didn’t have a crap ton of makeup caked on her face. She probably had a stereotypical name as well -- Deanne, Jessica, Linda, something like that.

I hated -- and still hate -- those people with a burning passion. All they care about is their looks and popularity and they let their brains dissolve into air and then, when shoved into the real world, they don’t know what to do with themselves so they travel to Las Vegas and either waste all of their money or prostitute themselves.

The thing was, she was staring at me like she found me interesting. That was never a good sign. That only could have meant two things: that she was single and wanted to have sex, or it meant that she had a boyfriend and wanted to have sex.

I decided to attempt to ignore her for the time being, but it proved impossible when she stood up and sauntered over to me, emphasizing her ass. She got to my table and set a perfect manicured hand on the wood, leaning towards me to stuff her boobs in my face. I leaned away from her. Please go away please go away please go away-

"Hello!" the girl said in a cheery, high-pitched voice mixed with breath mints and overwhelming perfume. "My name is Elizabeth, but people call me Lizzie. What's yours?"

Looked like I was right. She did have one of those stereotypical whore names.

"My name is 'leave me be, I'm trying to be alone,'" I growled back. "Good to meet you, Lizzie. Now can you go away?"

She pouted instead of laughing at my sarcasm. "Oh, come on, no need to be like that." She traced her finger across my chin. I shivered and pulled away. She gasped.

"Oh, you're so cold! No wonder you have that jacket. If you want to, you can take it off and get warm with me," she remarks.

"Nah, I like my perfectly cold heart," I told her.

"Cold? I think that it's wonderful! Just like I'll be in-"

"What part of 'now can you go away' do you not get?" I snapped. "Jesus Christ, you're annoying."

"Oh, but, you are so mysterious and bad~! I love my bad boys, you know," she said, using her other arm to grab my shoulder and shove me into my seat. "They're great boyfriends, and even better in bed. Mmmmm, I get horny just thinking about them!"

"Then you're horny all the time?" I asked. I saw the group from underneath the bleachers come to the snack table, laughing their heads off. They stopped laughing when they notice me and Elizabeth. The redhead winced, which caught the attention of everyone else in the courtyard. They stared at us, making me feel like a fool.

"Obviously! But you can help me with the problem," Lizzie said with a tone that I absolutely did not like.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in dating or sleeping with sluts. Emphasis on sluts," I said. I tried being kind -- for me, anyway -- but what does she do? Not leave me alone.

She gasped and all of the people in the courtyard whispered to each other, except for the group from under the bleachers. They laughed, pointed at her, and high-fived each other. The zit-covered dude flashed me a thumbs up, and the Cherokee girl and a hispanic boy smiled at me. Another dirty blonde girl who looked to be the zit-faced dude's cousin mouthed 'good job' at me. That's when they started to clap. Nobody else clapped for me; I was pretty sure that they all adored Elizabeth or was too scared of her to clap for me.

Hooray, new paparazzi for me.

I got up and walked away from the gaping Elizabeth, making my way back to the safety of the bleacher corner. I couldn't wait for this night to be over. I was halfway there when I felt a hand touch my shoulders. I turned around, fists up, and saw the ginger girl with the hispanic boy. They were both grinning like maniacs. I put my fists down. I was pretty sure that I could take them down in a fight.

"I wouldn't think that, DiAngelo," the ginger said. "I'm a black belt, fourth dan. I don't recommend attempting to take me down." She laughed lightly. "My name is Crystal. I'm a soul reader, so I know what you're thinking and feeling at all times. Creepy, right?"

Crystal wriggled her fingers and the hispanic boy joined in, making ghost noises. They stopped, grinning widely. Wow, these were happy people.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Nico," Crystal said, still grinning. "Leo here" -- she gestured to the hispanic boy -- "is pretty much dead inside. Half of the people in our group are depressed, but we still keep going. Though," she said, frowning. "I think that depression is only the tip of your iceberg."

Leo looked mildly confused.

Crystal waved him off. "Don't be so confused, Leo. You'll know in time."

"Are you a prophet too?" I asked her with a bland tone.

"No, no!" she laughed. "Just a soul reader, I promise you. I tend to make predictions as well to make myself look more scary. Manasa is the one who reads the future. She's in a whole different grade, though and absolutely hates sports with a burning passion, so I doubt you'll meet her." She waved it off with an exaggerated hand gesture. I noticed that she talked with her hands whenever she spoke. I smiled slightly. She must have been Italian.

"A quarter Italian, actually," Crystal answered quickly, using her hands to emphasize. "Half Irish, one eighth German, and one eighth a whole bunch of other shit." I had the feeling that she wasn't telling me something, but I decided to input on that later when I knew her better.

"I would love to talk about heritage," Leo jumped in. "But what were you going to ask Nick?"

"Nico," Crystal corrected. "And I was wondering if you wanted to join our group. Most of us are queer and the rest of us support it, and we're pretty crazy."

"I'm not really interested in friends right now, thanks," I answered politely. I appreciated the attempt for her to be nice to me, but I didn't want somebody who took pity on me to become friends with me and just dump me later on. I'm wasn't about to do that again.

"Dude, once you're in our group, you're in the group," Crystal said, as if reading my thoughts.

(oh wait, she could read my soul, which i guess is like reading minds but more empathic. hmm, i need to think about that more)

"You don't need to worry about that," she continued. "Honestly. If you need to know, we're probably the most trustworthy group in this district. You're fine. Besides..." She winked. "We all hate Elizabeth with a burning passion. For some reason, everyone loves her. We don't."

Hate Elizabeth?

Since everyone treated her like a queen, I was surprised to find a group to find some people who didn't like her -- hell, hated her -- and they were willing to hang out with me...

"Hell yeah," I grinned.