Chapter Text
Being alone isn't abnormal to me. If anything, I enjoy my time alone- even though that's how all my time seems to be spent. The past two years have been like this, and I've grown accustomed to it. If anything, it's weird for me to be around a bunch of people outside of school. I appreciate a calm and quiet setting and I find peace in being alone. Sure, deep down there is a part of me that yearns to be in one of those friend groups that hangs out every weekend, living "the life", but doesn't that get boring? Personally, I can't imagine enjoying a life where I just party every weekend. Although I've never been to one, I just know that it's not my scene. I'm not very outgoing and would just end up going home if I'm being honest. When I'm by myself, I don't have to worry about what others want to do. It's all up to me. And I like it that way. I kind of have to like it that way. I definitely could make more of an effort to insert myself into groups at school, but it doesn't really feel worth it, because in the end, all I want is to just be in my room, in the comfort of my own solitude, something I've been used to for a while now.
In Willowbrook, a small town in Georiga, I'm seen as "odd". Here, everyone knows one another and it's almost impossible to not have many friends, so me being alone all the time really isn't normal. To be fair, I get it. I understand that how I live isn't how most teenagers do, but I'm content with my life. I mean, I used to have somewhat of a friend group when I was younger- Gally, Chuck, Ben, and Fry- so that counts as something, but it's pretty typical for friend groups to drift apart over time, and there are no hard feelings.
When we were younger, almost every day we'd spend the afternoon and one of our houses for hours, just enjoying each other's company, but as we got older and our schedules became busier, we just couldn't find enough time for each other as often. We had stayed friends for a long time, but eventually, we all really had to put effort into the friend group to keep us together, and it just wasn't working.
It was the beginning of our sophomore year when we had officially stopped being a friend group, as we hadn't really hung out much during the summer, and everyone seemed to find a group that they fit in with.
Except for me.
Turns out that making friends when you're eleven is a whole lot easier than when you're sixteen. When I moved to America when I was eleven, making friends had never been easier. Not only was I at that prime age where you could just ask someone, "Do you want to be friends?", but my English accent really helped me. It just made me interesting to kids, but now, people my age could care less about accents, because now it's all about who you know and what you know. Both things have never helped me.
Now I'm in my junior year, which is filled with lunches at tables with no one but me and classes where I only ever make small talk to the people I'm sat by- and that's only when I really have to- like during group projects, which I hate, by the way. Assigned groups don't bother me much since I don't have to rely on chance, but when the opportunity arises for us to form our own groups and I'm left unchosen, it serves as a reminder of my constant solitude.
I miss the times when I'd look forward to lunch every day with my friends, everyone always having something to say about the previous weekend or what had happened that school day so far. Our table would constantly erupt with laughter, provoking weird looks from people around us, but we never cared, and we always had a good time. It was typical for Frypan to be late to our table almost every day, because he'd spend his time talking to the lunch ladies while in line getting food, causing the people behind him to get annoyed, trying to hurry him up in line. Gally would always have some story to tell about the people at our school because he somehow knew everything about everyone. We would all just sit and listen to what everyone had to say, and it seems like they'd all found that same dynamic again in high school with different friend groups, and eating alone these past two years has really put in perspective how different my life is from theirs, and with so much time alone, I've had a lot of time to think of things I could've done differently, but now these cliques have been established, and I really feel that I've missed out. While I don't really care for the whole "teenage experience", part of me wonders what my life would be like if I actually lived a life, but again, I don't mind how I live my life, I just fear that I may be missing out on things that I don't even realize.
And, while I do find peace in my own company, the persistent reminder of my solitude is something that weighs on me. Constantly.
"Newt, when are you going to get a girlfriend?"
My dad asks me this question at least once a month, and I never really seem to have a good answer that he's looking for, and I usually just shrug and answer with a "dunno" which only provokes an eye roll from my dad every time. Growing up, and even now, girls haven't really caught my eye and the thought of relationships have never occupied much of my time. Although I yearn to be in one, a deep-rooted caution prevents me from pursuing it. Witnessing the dynamics my parents endured over the years instilled an inherent fear within me. What if I discover "the one" only to find ourselves constantly screaming and fighting? It all just feels too overwhelming, and not worth the risk.
My dad is a very traditional man. A 'men don't show emotion' kind of man, which I guess I've never really cared about, but have never agreed with, but I could never let him know that. I've always really cared what people thought about me, and how my parents think of me is one of the most important things to me. While I do want that "teenage experience", I don't want to do anything that could alter my relationship with my parents- like drinking or smoking. I'm so afraid I could ruin everything with one wrong move. Even though they're my parents and would love me no matter what, I just can't take any chances of disappointing them. Especially because they're kind of all that I have.
I'd like to say that my parents are perfect, but in reality, they're far from that. I grew up with a lot of fighting in my house, and although my parents worked through most of their issues, there's always been something missing from their marriage. Part of me thinks they only tried to make things better because of me, and I'm grateful they worked through their problems, but I hate to think that they only did it because they had to, you know? Also, I feel that I should mention that these problems didn't just stem from nothing. When I was young, we stayed in rental homes and apartments for a few years, due to my father's unemployment, which caused my mom to have to pick up double shifts constantly while my dad would stay home and drink. Screaming was a common occurrence, and eventually, I just got used to it.
What a horrible thing for a kid to go through while growing up.
As I grew up, my parents repaired their relationship a lot, and at this point, things are honestly pretty close to normal, but I'll always know what went on behind closed doors. Something I will never forget.
Besides not having many friends outside of school- or inside of school, for that matter- and a somewhat unstable home life when it comes to my parents, my life is fairly normal.
Every day, the routine of school remains unchanging, and strangely, I find comfort in its predictability. Yet, although it's familiar, I catch myself constantly counting down the minutes until I can escape and go home.
I sit at my desk, picking at the already worn-out parts of my desk that desperately need to be replaced, tapping my foot against the floor, occasionally looking up at the clock, only to find that six minutes have passed since I last checked the time, hoping it would be closer to the class ending than it actually is. My teacher is talking about conic sections, which I honestly don't understand, only because I chose not to listen. I think if I really tried, I could excel in all my classes, but I don't have to motivation for that. I just can't focus in school, due to everything boring me out of my mind. Honestly, nothing- inside or outside of school- ever manages to captivate my attention and ignite a genuine spark of interest within me.
That was until someone new walked into my class.
As the classroom door swung open, a figure stepped inside, exuding an aura of captivating uniqueness. My gaze instinctively gravitated toward him, causing my curiosity to pique like never before. It wasn't just his physical appearance or attire that caught my eye; it was something intangible, an essence that set him apart from the rest.
Maybe it's his somewhat unkempt, dark hair. Maybe it's his captivating dark brown eyes that caught my attention. Maybe it's his inviting smile that's plastered on his face. I can't put my finger on it, but there is something about this new kid that draws me in, and it's frustrating to not know what. I could just blame it on him being the new kid and leave it at that, but I feel that there is something more to him.
I mean, how could someone be so happy to be in such an unfamiliar place? I sure as hell wasn't happy to be walking into this school for the first time. What is so different about this boy?
Who is he?