Chapter Text
“Be safe,” His mom called. He ignored his mother and slammed the front door. He raked his fingers through his hair, giving it a flip for the volume. (toss toss)
“What are you doing?” Eal called out to him, tilting her head in confusion.
He turned around to his girlfriend and responded, “Making myself pretty.” He said as Eal rolled those dark green eyes of hers.
“Let's go, we're going to be late.” She called, starting down the sidewalk. He followed after her.
– –
Jonah’s feet scraped the sidewalk. “Tsk' school, not fair bro”, he huffed. Hopping off the sidewalk to walk in the street instead, he raked his finger through his hair, huffing. Looking up at the school with a sigh . Just like life coming to bite him in the ass he supposed .
Eal sighed, “Agreed,” she muttered. She glanced at him, "Do you really need to walk in the street?” She questioned.
He side eyed her before jumping onto the sidewalk. “It is for aesthetics.” He grumbled.
“Whatever you say, leprechaun,” she cruelly remarked.
“Hey,” he huffed, coming back on the sidewalk to avoid the cars. There was no need to remind him of his crippling condition; born of red hair.
They crossed the road, ignoring the honking cars and the looks of angry mothers who cared too much. He strutted into the school when Owen crossed his line of view. “Tsk'”
Eal scoffed, rolling her eyes to disapprove of Hoodlum.
Hoodlum turned his way, looking him up and down; he couldn't help but notice how his lip slightly parted in disgust looking at him, how his eyes flicked, how his dark hair moved when he moved his head to look away from him, how it left Jonah feeling exposed and unreasonably judged.
The three of them walked into school, and Eal went her separate way to the office. Being a teacher's assistant, she didn't have a homeroom class.
He scowled at Hoodlum walking past him, cutting him off from the line for late notes, holding his head high. Owen looked disrespected, antagonized, tormented, oppressed, and victimized. Highly dramatic if you ask him. He wasn't even in line yet; he flipped his hair again and scoffed. (toss toss)
He clenched his jaw, feeling the judgment on him, but he brushed it off. Ignoring Owen’s Theatrics, reminding himself that Owen was a nobody and he was top of the food chain, that he was superior, that he was better simply because Owen would always be lower. He shot Owen a nasty look.
Going to the front lady getting, his late note and walking to class, he didn't have time for lower people being top dog.
He huffed, walking up the stairs practically flying . Strutting into the bathroom before going to his first class, he was better than that anyway. He caught a glance of himself in the bathroom mirror. God, was he just the most beautiful man ever. He could look at himself all day.
“Who are you, fine fella? ” he said to himself, making finger guns and pointing them at the mirror and himself brushing back his hair again, clicking his tongue. Spending a few minutes admiring himself.
He heard footsteps approaching the bathroom entrance. He looked at himself in the mirror at the person standing behind him. It was Owen again .
Glared at him from the reflection of the mirror, “Tsk. ”
Who did he think he was following him up here!? The little stalker . His thoughts took an agitated turn. He huffed, continuing his side eyed at him.
Owen blinked at him a few times before turning on his heel and walking out of the bathroom . Good residences.
He waited a moment thinking of confronting him for following him like a damn stalker before deciding against it. Strutting out of the bathroom and going to his homeroom class, taking one last look at his beautiful face , smirking.
– –
He walked into class late, of course, because a person with any real class didn't show up on time. He strutted into class, head held high. Eyes turned to him. Yes, look at me, you maggots, me the star, the hero, the main character. He walked to his desk, sitting down as loudly as possible.
The big fat teacher who was given the name Ms.Wheeler, whom they all called Ms.Wheelchair because most of them, even the weird unpopular anime theater kids, hated her and wished she were in a wheelchair so they could push her down the stairs and watch her fall.
She stormed up to him with her big, puffy, fat face red as a tomato, the lineup of desks she was walking between were shoved out of the way as she passed, when she hit them with her fat thighs. She must have weighed 800 pounds.
“Jonah!!!!!!!” she screeched with her nasal voice, “Why are you 30 minutes late to my 35-minute class?”