Ever been dreaming like an out of body experience? No? Well I don't recommend it. Waking up is a bitch. I heard the bell ring, damn thing is louder than fuck cause my table was right under one of the PA speakers. Then there was this weird flying feeling when I got shot back into my own head and woke up. Just as I was realizing where I was, I got slapped on the back.
"Move your ass man!" God, I knew that voice anywhere. My buddy Trent. He was kind of an asshole, but then so am I
"I got time bro, screw off," I waved him away as my eyes continued to readjust.
"Nah dude, that was the second bell. Your dumbass is supposed to be in a desk right now."
Shit, I was already five minutes late to class on the first day. It was last period which explains why I no longer had enough fucks to stay awake after my fourth period spare. However I had a new teacher for this English class, and while I don't particularly care about the grand mess that is school, making a crap impression wont get you anywhere inn the world.
"Yea well so is yours." I grabbed my bag and jogged to catch up to him. "Why aren't you already there anyway?"
"Because much like you, I don't give a flying fuck, and if I did, I sure wouldn't waste it on a high school English class. C'mon Mitch, I thought you knew me better." Something about Trent's voice and word choice always made him sound like a sarcastic philosopher.
"I call bull, not about your lack of fucks and where you wouldn't spend them. But you'd rather watch me sink than swim. What's the occasion?"
He laughed a bit. "Truth be told man? I feel like I look super sketchy when I walk alone." This kind of surprised me. Trent was the most un sketchy guy I knew. He was downright photogenic. Short brown hair that he really didn't need to do anything with. Glasses that actually made him look better, green eyes, a thin body but not skinny and he was always wearing a button-up shirt, like....literally always. Wait.. what the fuck? I shook the weirdly detailed image of my friend out of my head and just agreed to whatever he'd been saying while I apparently fantasized about him.
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"Isn't there a new guy doing this class?" I asked, trying to permanently derail that train of thought.
"Yea." He fished his transcript out of his binder. "K.Green, room 157."
"Ohh great, the portables." See now this was sketchy. A half assed hallway with four rooms plastered to the back of the school when the student population turned out to be way higher than anticipated. I had envisioned many horror movie scenes happening out here. We got to 157 and entered quickly. There was a guy pacing the front of the room who couldn't have even been in his thirties yet.
"And you gentlemen would be?"
"Mitch Townsend."
"Trent Millar."
"Excellent. That makes everyone. You are aware you are..." he trailed off as he turned to look at the clock. "Eight minutes late?" Trent and I both said yes and took two of the remaining few desks, surprisingly near the door. "My name is Kevin by the way, I would prefer it if you didn't call me Mr. Green, I'm not old enough for that yet." As he continued on some senseless shit about something called alliteration I leaned over to Trent.
"This guy is such a blowhard."