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My story, please comment! |
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Kandy, the leader of her group. The rose group. She is a rose; she is so beautiful and fair. Tall slender with dancing green eyes and dark tanned skin. I can tell that she doesn’t use a tanning bed; the tan is all naturally her. She is he leader of the rose group, not only because she is a week older than the rest, but also because she is the gorge one of all of them. I know that I sound like a stocker, but I am not. I am a reject. I sit on the wrong side of the lunchroom. And I write poetry. I am pale, and tall my eyes have been said to look like icy blue fire. I am the guy dressed all in black. Black shirt, black cargo pants, and black clunky combat boots. I sit with the rejects and the poor people. The principle was the one to separate the rejects from popular, poor from the rich, act… We all have a place we sit, food we eat, clothes we wear, and we even have to go to school on different sides of the school.
I would not even know who Kandy is, except I had to take a letter from my home-room to her home room. It was a note from Mr. K. I remember it well,
I walk into he class and the teacher says, “ Now what does a reject want in this side of the school.” A popular boy, Tyler, joined in, “Don’t you have a fire to start or class to skip?” I twitched and handed the note to the teacher, and spoke in my deep crackly voice. It haw been many a time compared to a sore throat, and some one on the brink of loosing their voice. “This is from Mr. the language art teacher.” She scolded me then and took the note,
“Your grammar is horrid and who is Mr.? Don’t you know any thing reject. I refuse to acknowledge who the note is from until you use his full name.” I rolled my eyes and said, “So sue me.” I went to leave, and some one threw a pencil at me. I picked it up and turned. That was when I saw her. She was glaring at the culprit, Tyler. He was the one who had thrown the pencil, he was laughing. I crushed the pencil in my hand. It crumpled like a sand stone when you throw it against the concrete. Or when you break a twig in your hand. Some thing like that. I glared at him, and then moved my gaze to Kandy. I only looked for a moment then left. The same day at lunch, Tyler came to our side of the lunchroom. His eyes set on me. “Hey Jack. You owe me a new pencil and your eyes. I saw you checkin out my girl, reject. You better stay away from Kandy. Or next time I see you any where near her, I’ll rip those eyes out of your head.” He slammed his hand onto the table, I assumed to get my attention. I stood and looked him in his brown eyes.
“I don’t think I owe you any thing, queeny. I think you should run away to a safer part of the lunchroom, with that preppy tail between your legs.
“You callin me a girl reject?”
“Maybe I am, maybe I am not. But one thing in certain, I am calling you a coward.” “You little punk.” He threw a punch, I didn’t see coming, and it made contact with my face. I stumbled back into the table. My nose began to bleed, I threw a punch back, and he also didn’t expect it. It contacted a soft gut. I didn’t let up. I punched him in the nose and stomach three times before he threw another punch. I dodged it. “Hey hey hey boys break it up!!” Mr. K broke up the fight, after seeing the crowd, which gathered around us. They had watched in silence, not shouting fight, and wanting the fight to last as long as possible. The crowd of preppy and reject the same.
My friend, Bran poking me, brought me back to the present. “Yo yo!!! Earth to Alex! Come in Alex!!!!” I slapped his poking hand. “ What deu want?” I said slurring my words together. ”Just wondering why we have to eat this gruel when the preps and RICH folk get that delicious food.” I rolled my eyes, to tell him that just because he knows I am rich he doesn’t get any food. I don’t eat it, he wont either. ”Bran, just because you are one of the only people in this school that knows I should be sitting with the rich and popular, doesn’t mean you can eat like them.” Her laughed and rolled his eyes also, and then said a new thing, “How ‘bout we kill a prep, and like blame it on someone, another prep, maybe Queeny?” I laughed and punched him in the arm. Looking down at the slop on my pate I said, “Hey how’s about we go ‘cross the street. I can not stand this stuff, my treat.” Bran and Michel Yipped and got up, Michel saying, “Yo man, if you are rich, why did you get a job at the restaurant??” Knowing that Michel only mentions the struant when he needs someone to take his shift for him, usually me, I said “Yo man I would be happy to take over part of your sift tonight.” He hugged me, “OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I have a date tonight at nine, could you come to the café` round eight thirty??? I want to leave a bit early.” I nodded. I always nodded when I don’t feel like talking.
We made our way to the twenty-four hour café` across the street from our school. Since lunch had just started no one had gotten to the better seats yet. We scooted into a booth and ordered hamburgers and French-fries. “How can someone so poetic be soo cool?” said Michel, talking to Bran referring to me. And just as our food came, it only took three minutes tops, Queeny and gang walked in and right top the table we sat at. His nose had never been sat right after the fight; it still looked a bit large. Kandy, whose hair was down today, walked beside him, his hand around her waist. It was as if his hand claimed her as his. I hated the way she looked at that dumb princess. “Hey, you are in our seat, reject, move it!” I looked at him and ate a fry. Chewing on it I looked back at my friends, who were still says how great a guy I was for getting them food. I could tell that they wanted it to happen again.
“Did you hear me kid that’s our spot! Get up or I’ll make you.” We continued to ignore the jerk. He was turning red, as I could see out of the corner of my eye. He grabbed me by the jacket and told me to get the heck up again. The manager came and told him to get off of me, or they would have to leave. Then when he had let go and went to sit down he started to apologies, “Master Alex, I am really very sorry, he comes in here and acts as if he owns this joint.” I laughed, my father had bought the chain of Cafés in our town three years before. They had boomed in business after it. My father’s money upped the classiness of the place. “It’s okay.” I said shrugging, and then he whispered, “Please don’t tell your father! He would fire me!” I nodded, and he left to take the other orders. Queeny glared at me from the table he sat at. I smiled and continued talking to my friends.
That night I drove to the café. It was nine miles away from my house, and my father did own it. And he rather hated me working there. Mainly because of all the lower people that worked there, as he would put it. I grabbed my roller blades from the back seat. I walked in and Michel started to thank me again. I had half a mind to grab him by the lips and tell him to shut the heck up. I didn’t though. I pulled on the blades, and right as I did Queeny and his gang walked in. Michel took off, almost bowling over Mlane, one of the rose groups members. She was the one walking next to Tyler, grinning as his hand played on her waist. Kandy walked behind, as Mlane used to. Michel popped his head in again and said, “Yo man I will so repay you for this!!” I rolled my eyes and said, “Give me extra pay and I am fine with working on my days off.” I rolled up to Queeny and them, looking at Kandy, while saying, “Welcome to café 80’s. Table or booth?” Kandy smiled at me and said, “Booth please.” I nodded toward a booth. And they all followed. Tonight I would have to be all by myself, and hopefully we wont be to busy. I thought this as I rolled them to their booth. I passed out menus, and said I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your drink order. Even though I hated the preps, I didn’t want to loose me job here. I rolled away and an elderly couple came in and asked for a booth as well. I seated them a few seats away from Queeny and them. I rolled back and took Kandy’s order and the rest of their orders to. Kandy ordered water and a coke. The rest ordered coffee. Writing down the orders I rolled to the back and got a water pitcher, coffee pot, and a coke-a-cola. I took these things to them and poured the coffee. I almost poured some on Queeny he said, “Have you noticed that the trash is all over this place??” Kandy was the only one who didn’t laugh and join in to the conversation Mlane said, “Yeah Tailor trash rejected people.”
“Retarded freaks.”
“Tailor trash is right, I wonder if they even know what money is!!” that was Queeny again.
“Guys, that isn’t nice!” Kandy sputtered that out and then excused her self to the bathroom. I rolled over to the elderly couple and took their orders they left after having coffee. Queeny and them stayed, and after a few hours of rolling around, almost three hours, my feet hurt like heck.
I took a break after no one came in after an hour or so. Lighting a cig I watched as Queeny left to have a cig to.
After a five-minute break, I turned and crushed out my second cig. I was about to go back in when some one jumped on my back and started to choke me. I lurched to the left and gagged. The hands tightened on my throat. All I saw was a scare over their left eye. My world began to darken, I felt dizzy. I tried to pry the hands off my throat. It worked for a moment and I got a gasp of air, then the hands glued back to being tighter than humanly possible. ”Get off!” I tried to croak, but it came off more like “Gaa.” I continued trying to pry the person off of me. I fell to one knee. They had been choking me for a good minute now. But it felt more like hours. My world was all dark, and my neck hurt so. My lungs felt as if they were going to burst. The person on my back was very heavy and I fell onto my stomach. The person rolled me over; it put a cleat to my throat and pressed down. I couldn’t fight back, all my energy had drained.
The cleat sat heavily on my neck almost as if they were deciding to kill me or not. I tried to lift my arms, they just flopped, I still couldn’t breath, the cleat was just heavy enough on my throat to stiff my breath, the person moved their cleat and kicked me in the side, and I coughed and took a gulp of air. My sight was returning. The person, probably male, wore cleats and dressed all in black. He wore a ski mask. He replaced his shoe on my throat. And he was just about to crush my air passage, when the cook came out to say he was leaving. It was closing time, the man ran. Cook was a large and frightening man. He was almost 43; he would be in three days. He helped me up. “Can cha make it home alright?” I nodded and made my way into the café I sat down at a stool.
The café was empty, thank gosh. Cook left and locked the front door. I sat rubbing my neck it hurt so. I finally got up and left. I started my engine before I realized that some one was watching me. I went to turn to see who it was and a gun’s muzzle was pressed to the back of my head with the words, “Turn around and I’ll blow your freaking brains out.” I froze, and I heard a metallic clink of a gun. He had cocked the hammer back, and was ready to fire. I gulped, and looked in the review, the same person’s eyes that I had seen earlier glared back at me. “Drive, follow the directions I give you.” Shaking I shifted the car and drove, “Drive down Duncan dr. Then take a right and then a left.” I did as he said, not knowing what to expect. He took the gun from my head long enough to twist some thing on the front end. I watched the road and him at the same time. I was afraid but my mom was a judge, so I knew I could keep a level head. My mother always could. I stopped in front of an old shack; it looked like a two story cabin. He hit me with the guns butt and thus knocked me out.
When I awoke, I as tied to a chair. I was in the corner of the cabin’s room. There was a staircase to my left, a few windows and a door in front of me. An old beet up couch was near the middle of the room. The man who had kidnapped me lay sleeping. Another door that lay slightly ajar to my right. I could see a staircase and a door if I strained my eyes. I wiggled my hands the knots, which restrained me, were rather loose. I continued wiggling them until they came free. I had a bad feeling about waking the sleeping man, so as quiet as a mouse, I snuck to the door. Locked. I hung my head; the windows were locked as well. I remembered my cell phone and dug through my pockets. Yes! I wanted to shout when I found it in my pocket. I dilled my mom, she answered. I only had about half an hour of battery left, and it was failing fast
“Mom! I was like kidnapped. I am in the middle of red-“ I shouldn’t have talked so loudly, apparently this man was a light sleeper. I felt a gun to my head and I cut off in mid sentence. He took the phone, and said “Mrs. Dawn, if you ever want to see your son alive again, your case Jeremy K Witlow, find him not guilty.” He hung up the phone, and dropped it to the the floor. He looked art it then crushed it under his shoe. I gulped. Panicking, bad, no no no. It’ll be fine, stop panicking! I thought and took a deep breath. I let it out slowly. The man behind me was moving the gun. He grabbed my arm and twisted it until it broke. I cried out, and kicked him in the shin. He punched me and pressed me against a wall. “Alex, I have murdered many people. Many young boys, one more will not haunt my dream’s, or lose me any sleep. Understand?” I nodded, or at least tried to.
To be continued for length reasons…
I had to bleep out the bad words and the word "god" because this was the story I wrote for my school. It ******** sucks, but its true. No profanity, the use of a religious term is prohibited, blah blah blah. one ear out other.
 demon strait outta_hell · Thu Apr 24, 2008 @ 04:19am · 3 Comments |
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