Adrien Walker
What the fuck is wrong with these morons?
Can they not just shut the fuck up and get the hell to class.
There's no need to stand in the middle of the goddamn corridor and gossip about how you accidentally liked some hot dude's Instagram post or the fact that your mother walked in on you wanking.
Like, who gives a fuck?
Just let me get to class.
Fuck me, it's only the start of the second week of school and I'm already sick of this shit. How the hell am I gonna deal with this for the rest of the year?
I walk down the hallways surrounded by the biggest assholes in this school. They're all jumping and talking, but I zone them all out.
As I'm walking, some scrawny fucker accidentally hits me with his bag. Before I can even begin growling curses at him, he quickly starts stumbling over his apologies.
He better be fucking sorry.
I don't say anything, I just give him the usual glare and carry on walking.
Upon entering the history classroom, my eyes immediately wander over to my table at the back.
Ethan's sitting there with his head on the desk with his black hood pulled up, but it does nothing to contain his curls. Knowing him, he's already asleep. It doesn't matter what lesson it is, he just sleeps through them all. Doesn't even bother taking out a notebook and pen. He wakes up when the bell rings, and zombie-walks to his next class only to drop down in his seat and fall asleep again. The teachers don't bother with him, not even a glance in his direction. I don't know why they just let him sleep. But it's not like he's bothering anyone.
As the bell rings, I sense him slowly raise his head, as if checking where he is, before going back to sleep. He huddles a little closer to the radiator (he might as well just outright hug it) before going still again.
Wish I could fall asleep so fucking easily.
Once I'm certain he's asleep, I glance over at him. I'm surprised to find that there's no mud on his hoodie or jeans. His shoes are a little muddy though, but other than that he seems clean.
Ms Richards is currently rambling on about the state of collective amnesia the whole world entered after the Holocaust because they couldn't bear to accept that such an act of genocide happened. Or some bullshit like that. More like they didn't want to accept that someone was responsible for such atrocious actions, and how long it took them to act.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not some Neo-Nazi. But seriously, how the fuck did one country manage to fuck up so badly? And then not even let anyone speak up about it after it happened, as though it was frowned upon to even mutter a word? Something as horrific as that happens, and no one wants to talk about it? Well, no one was allowed to talk about it. It's just fucked up.
Yeah the holocaust happened, and it was horrific, I get that. But why aren't we also learning about the other acts of genocide?
What about the ethnic cleansing that happened after WWII in Europe? The Bosnian genocide in 1995. It went on for 4 years. Ain't nobody educated about that.
The silent genocide that's been going on in China since 2014. The concentration camps in China are forcing Muslims to renounce their faith. They're killing and abusing over two million people. Concentration camps, just like how they had in Germany. Oh, but of course, the world doesn't care about that. They're white and obviously, all Muslims are terrorists, not fucking human beings like the rest of us.
Or how about slavery? Millions of African and black people were killed, but there isn't one white official publicly calling that genocide. It should be considered one of the greatest genocides to have occurred in history, but these motherfuckers don't even have the fucking decency to call it as it is. Hell, they're still out there killing us.
I ain't in the fucking mood to listen to a white man's version of history. It ain't even fucking history until a white man writes about it; nothing exists until a white man acknowledges it.
It's no wonder that history isn't taught properly in schools; there's no way white people wanted black people to sound better than them or even equal to them. Nah, instead we're portrayed as the bad guys so much so that even now people don't picture us as any good. When someone says doctor, surgeon, judge, lawyer, banker, psychologist, or scientist, their minds immediately picture a white person. Well, usually a white man. But when a thug, gangster, or drug dealer is mentioned people usually think of a black person. A black man.
And they have the fucking audacity to say there is nothing wrong with the system.
I can feel myself getting more and more wound up. I grit my teeth and count to 4, over and over. Stupid fucking coping mechanism. Doesn't even fucking working.
Just as I'm about to get up and walk out, I feel Ethan's cold, rough hand on my wrist. I unclench my fists before looking over at him.
He reaches over and writes Richards - caricature in my notebook. I haven't drawn a caricature in a while, so I try my absolute best to make it the ugliest fucking thing.
He watches me create this absolute beast of a masterpiece for a few minutes before closing his eyes again.
The bell rings before I'm able to finish.
The hallways are probably a hassle for everyone but me. People tend to sense my presence and know to move out of the way. No one wants to commit social suicide and mess with me.
As I take a seat at the back of the classroom, I realise Ethan's not with me. Where the fuck did he go? I swear he was right behind me.
RP isn't like the usual classes; Ms Lii doesn't stand at the front of the room and lecture us about a topic we couldn't give a damn about. Instead, we have to individually come up with a topic for our project, research all about it, write a 5,000-word document, and do a presentation to the entire class at the end. It's an easy A.
RP is probably the easiest subject anyone could ever do. If I manage to get a B or above in this and a C in all my other classes, I'll be able to go to a mediocre uni.
Just as Ms Lii is about to clap her hands to get our attention, Ethan walks in. I hope he's not late because of some knobheads.
It's almost like he's a ghost and only I can see him. But then again, I guess they could have decided that ignoring his presence would be easier than acknowledging it. Because if they did decide to acknowledge him, they would have to do something about the abuse as well. The layer of cuts and bruises that are visible around his clothing never seems to disappear. But what can you do when his father's the fucking sheriff.
As she begins talking, I notice him starting to drift off, I quickly nudge him awake. All RP classes were cancelled last week, so today's our first proper lesson. She must have something important to say.
He hesitantly lifts his head to look around the classroom before looking back at me. I can't see his facial expression, but I'm pretty certain he's confused. I never wake him up to make him listen in class. Instead of giving a verbal reply, I nod my head towards Lii. He looks in her direction before putting his head back down on his arms, but I know he's awake and listening.
"All RP lessons were cancelled last week because there were some adjustments made to the curriculum. I know this will cause a lot of disappointment because it now means that the drafts you were expected to write over the summer no longer matter. You're all expected to start again, but you can refer to some of the research you collected over the summer if it is relevant to your new projects."
Everyone around the classroom instantly starts complaining. But I stay silent, secretly glad this has happened. I never did any work over the summer. So it's a bit of a relief to know I'm in the same boat as the majority.
"Due to the revisions you'll no longer be doing this project individually; you're expected to do it in pairs. I was going to let you pick your partners, but Principal Parker has made it quite clear that I have to pair you up myself, despite the exam board not having anything against you choosing your partners."
I mentally scoff at that. Principal Parker is extremely concerned with pass rates and having decent student averages. A lot of the students that take RP are either failing or nerds who are preparing themselves for writing a dissertation at uni. He probably wants to pair them up together to make sure everyone passes.
I wonder who the fuck I'll be partnered up with, I'll honestly be relieved if it's a nerd. I need to pass this, and the higher the grade, the lighter the weight I have to carry to get through this year.
"So, I've decided to partner you up with the person sitting beside you."
There are a few groans from around the classroom as Lii announces this but a part of me feels relieved. I can work with Ethan. We've always worked together fine over the years. He manages to deal with me when things get overwhelming and I don't give him shit about sleeping through cl-
Shit.
He's going to spend the entire time we're working together sleeping.
Fuck, I'm going to have to do all the work.
This cannot be happening.
How am I supposed to be the nerd, the smart one?
What the actual fuck? I'm meant to be the dumb one!
Fuck.
I'll just have to do the project by myself, which was what I was originally planning to do anyway, so I'll just pretend as if nothing has changed.
Is this how nerds feel when they're paired up with stupid people?
We're going to fail.
I can't fail.
Fuck.
I need to get the fuck outta this town.
How am I going to pass?
I can feel my right leg shaking.
I can feel the frustration settle on me like a second skin.
This is bad.
I'm going to fail and then not get into uni and have to spend the rest of my life in this fucking town.
I'm never going to escape.
There's no getting out.
Ethan's cold hand rests on my knee, putting a stop to the shaking. I glance over at him to see that he's already watching me with scrunched-up eyebrows.
"What's wrong?" He whispers softly.
I try to respond but my thoughts are too jumbled and I realise I'm panicking.
Ethan gently rubs my knee and I look back at him, "Hey, it's okay, breathe. If you're worried about the project then stop, we'll work on it together, I promise."
I nod and close my eyes trying to focus on his hand drawing circles on my knee to keep me grounded.
It'll be fine.
We'll work on the project together.
I need a B or above on this project if I want to get into uni. I can't afford to fail this class, because the likelihood of me scraping anything above a C in my other classes is pretty fucking low.
I open my eyes once Miss Lii's voice rings out again, "Because you'll be working in pairs, I now expect a 10,000-word essay on your research. Be sure to highlight why you and your partner chose the topic you did, what you'd like to accomplish by writing about it, and at the end, I'd like a reflection section explaining what the research has taught you and how it might support you in the future.
"The presentation at the end of the academic year regarding your project should include all of this and be about 25 minutes long. Also, instead of coming up with a topic yourselves, you'll have to pick a section from the booklet I'll be giving you in a moment.
"Oh and I almost forgot, I'm also expecting a self-evaluation and partner review once you've completed the project and presentation. You'll have to write about how you contributed to the project and how well you both worked as partners. To ensure that both partners pull their weight, I want you both to pick a colour each and only write in that. Writing styles are different so it will be clear to see who wrote what. You have until the end of the hour to figure out what your project will be about and how you plan to work together. Decide who is researching what and how you plan to do the write-up."
I glance over at Ethan, he's got his eyes closed and head on the desk again but I know he's awake.
"I chose the colour green," He announces before I can say anything.
"Alright, I chose orange," I watch as the corner of his lips turn upwards in a small smile.
What's so funny about the colour orange?
Before I can ask, Grace turns around and passes me a stack of sheets with a smile. She completely ignores Ethan. I take two booklets from the top of the pile and pass them to the table next to us.
I pass Ethan a booklet before flipping through the stapled sheets trying to find a topic for the project.
The topics are ridiculous. I mean seriously, why on earth would I want to do a project on animals, education, fashion, global warming, musical instruments, or secularism? I think I'm just going to let Ethan pick.
I watch as he lazily turns over the pages of the booklet, once he reaches the end he looks up at me.
"Pick a section."
He looks in my direction for a few more seconds before looking down at the booklet and then back at me, "You pick."
"They're all shitty options, you pick."
"Fine random selection it is."
I raise an eyebrow as he continues to look at me but closes his eyes, he reaches for the booklet randomly opens it and points at the middle of the left-hand page.
We both look down to see what he's picked.
Mental Health.
Mental fucking Health.
Why this one? Of all the bullshit ideas in the booklet, he picks this one?
What are we supposed to write about? The amount of fucking teenagers who kill themselves every fucking year?
Before I can comment on his choice, the bell rings. He gingerly picks up his bag and hurries out of the classroom. Break time means beating time.
I take a deep breath before packing up my stuff and leaving the room. Sometimes, I find myself questioning why he even tries to escape them but I guess if it means one less bruise, surely it's worth the running and hiding.
Instead of heading towards the cafeteria like everyone else, I go to the one place in this godforsaken school that brings me peace; the school roof that overlooks the car park.
I drag myself to class when the bell rings, but instead of listening to the stupid cow at the front of the classroom, I take out my phone. As I'm scrolling through my shitty Facebook feed, I glance back and forth between my phone and the clock on the wall.
The ticking is starting to irritate me. I quickly look around the room for a distraction.
Why isn't he in the seat beside me?
Why is he so fucking late?
Well, I know why.
Who the fuck is beating him up now?
Even after twenty minutes, there's no sign of him.
As the clock continues to tick, I can't seem to stop myself from aggressively tapping my foot.
When the fuck is this lesson going to end?
Isn't an hour of white people history enough? But no, we also have to learn about American history as well as European history. Someone fucking shoot me. Well if I was in America, I probably would be shot if I walked with my head down, hood up, and hands in my pockets. Hell, I could be asleep in my own home and they'd still shoot me dead. Or stood in my grandmother's backyard.
I'm ready to punch a wall.
Mrs Singh nervously glances at me a few times. The idiots in front of me slowly lower their heads onto their desks, as if attempting to hide. I can see the other morons in the room trying to seem secretive with their quick looks.
I force myself to continue sitting there, as the annoying ticking of the clock seems to get louder. I flick my pen around, trying to distract myself, but end up snapping it in half, letting ink leak through my fingers and onto the desk.
I start tapping my fingers on the desk, decorating the surface with blue smudges. My left leg begins to shake, rapidly hitting the metal leg of the desk. The tapping gets louder and louder as my hands ball into fists.
There are thirty minutes of class left, but Singh ends it early, shakily telling us to go work in the library instead.
I'm the only one throwing everything into my bag, not caring if things get ruined. As soon as my bag is over my shoulders, I sprint out of the classroom.
Just as I'm about to turn towards the stairs that lead up to the roof, I catch a glimpse of him leaving the toilets a few feet ahead of me.
Only then does my entire body freeze, I stand completely still, watching him drag himself through the corridor, limping. His once soft brown curls are now drenched.
He must have gotten his head stuck down the toilet again.
I quietly follow him, knowing he's planning on skipping what's left of history.
Maybe he has a secret spot of his own?
But when I see him walk into the boys changing room, I realise he's probably going to go shower.
Not a bad idea, he probably stinks. Plus with PE classes going on, he shouldn't get caught.
Instead of following him into the changing rooms, I turn around and head towards the roof. I only spend twenty minutes on the roof before heading to IT, the one class I don't mind having on a Monday.
As I walk towards my next class, I spot him leaning against the wall next to the door. His hair is wet, the occasional drop landing on his navy hoodie.
Does he not realise he might catch a cold? At least he's not wearing the same toilet water-soaked hoodie.
I silently stand beside him, he doesn't seem to smell like a toilet, so that's a plus, I guess. I stare at the navy hoodie for a few seconds before realising it's one of my old ones, a really thick one with a fleece lining. I hardly wore it because it was suffocatingly warm but I can't help but smile at Ethan wearing it. I'm glad he won't be as cold now.
The sound of the bell ringing startles him, making him jump backwards bumping into me.
Like usual he falls asleep within the first five minutes of class starting, I'm not even fucking surprised. He did miss a nap, after all.
I.T. is probably the only class I think might be easier than RP.
I get through all the online worksheets with ten minutes to spare. You've got to be a special kind of dumb to not understand the basic functions of a computer.
I glance over at Ethan sleeping beside me, how did he make it to his last year of school without doing a single piece of classwork?
--
Thoughts on Adrien and Ethan?