Chapter 3 3

THE LONELY ONES 3

NORMAN

I've never been able to maintain eye contact with anyone. It might be pretty simple for others, but for me, it's different.

But staring at this new boy with Amber eyes filled with so many, different emotions behind those golden orbs, for a weird long minute, I found peace just staring into his sun-like eyes. A strange kind of peace by just staring at this new boy. Without a second thought, I bring my gaze back to my book, at the same time Ms. Fatima speaks to the new boy.

" I'm sorry, who are you?" Mrs. Fatima asks.

I can hear the girls in my class muttering amongst themselves about the new boy. He's kind of good looking. God, who am I kidding? He's good looking, with this bad boy kind of look, and with this aura that just screams trouble and danger. I've never been good at reading people, but Mr. New boy looks dangerous.

" Are you supposed to be in this class?" Mrs. Fatima inquires further when the new boy doesn't answer.

I risk a glance at him and he's staring at my middle aged English teacher.

" I'm Phoenix. And yes, I'm supposed to be in this class. I'm new." He says. His voice sounds a little gruff and deep, but weirdly peaceful.

A voice like that can easily lull me to sleep by just whispering...

God, Norman, what the hell am I doing? When did I start having these thoughts?

" Please, take a seat. I don't condone lateness, but it's obvious you're new, so I'll let this slide by, for only today." Mrs. Fatima says.

Phoenix doesn't say a word as he walks towards the front row of the classroom and sits down on the seat behind mine. There are about three vacant seats at the back of the class, but the seat behind mine happens to be the seat he occupied.

Mrs. Fatima continues her teaching and I continue sketching. I stop what I was sketching earlier and open a new page in my sketchbook to sketch something new. Something fascinating that just finds its way into my head.

I'm lost in my own world, sketching the fascinating image that just happens to display itself in my brain and I just let my hand work the pencil. For a brief second, I feel Phoenix's breath at the back of my neck, sending a weird electric feeling down my spine.

What the hell?

I think I am just imagining things.

My fingers pause on my book and I take a deep breath. I'm tempted to just turn around and take a quick glance at his beautiful amber eyes, but I don't. I just chew on my lips, and lean forward on my seat a little to avoid Phoenix behind me as I continue sketching.

The bell rings at last, putting an end to Mrs. Fatima's long, boring English class. I stand up as I shove my things inside my bag, including my sketchbook. Students begin to walk out of the classroom and I follow suit, not before stealing a glance at Phoenix. His eyes meet mine for a brief second. I look away and I hurry out of the classroom.

I reach my locker and open it, throwing the unnecessary materials that I won't need in my next class as I grab my math textbook. I've always loved Math, I'm pretty good at it, and the teacher, Mr. Scott, knows how to teach Math, taking his time with any equation and math problems.

I shut my locker as my eyes fall on Phoenix. He's standing in front of his own locker that's pretty far from mine as he opens it. I look away, hurrying down the opposite direction of the new boy towards my math class while trying so hard not to fall with my sprained ankle. I should probably see the nurse about my ankle today.

I don't know what this is or what I'm doing, but the new boy happens to fascinate me. I know I should stay away, I want to stay away, but something is just stopping me. A part of me wants to figure him out. Figure out all the emotions behind his perfect rare amber eyes.

I've never found anyone fascinating before and I hate that the new boy turns out to be the first person that fascinated me to this extent. Why does it have to be him? Maybe it's because he's the first person I've ever met whose eyes are naturally amber.

That might explain it.

With the new boy's fascinating golden eyes sketched in the back of my mind, I enter my math class and take my seat on the usual front row. Mr. Scott is yet to arrive, so I am busy sketching what I was sketching earlier. The sketch is something I can't recognize yet, but I won't stop drawing. Drawing or painting things is one of the easiest ways to drown myself. It makes me forget the nightmare I'm living in. It makes me forget I'm hurting and I'm in pain and depressed. My drawings can be anything random. From birds, to butterflies, to a beautiful, lonely park, and even the beach. I've always loved to go to the beach one day, but I've never been opportune to do that.

Before mom died, she was always busy with her job, and dad was always away. Nixon spent most of his teenage years in boarding schools, so I'm mostly alone. Always alone. So I never really get the time to go places I want to visit. Like the beach. In movies, the beach is the place people go to, to just get away from everything. The quiet helps them to just pretend everything's fine and they're okay. I want that serenity. That solitude and calmness, even if I have to pretend for hours I'm fine and happy.

Someone plant themselves on the seat next to mine. The seat Melissa always sits on. I don't have to look to know who it is. I can even smell his expensive cologne from where I'm sitting. Despite his rich boy look, Phoenix still has that rough exterior that just screams bad. He's bad. I know I suck at reading people, but Phoenix isn't the guy I want to be friends with. Hell, I don't even know how to make friends. I barely can make a conversation with anyone, and I mostly talk to myself.

It took Melisa nearly three years before I became comfortable around her. Melissa and I became friends freshman year in highschool. She's pretty, dark honey skin, with curly long hair. She's nice, and really understanding. She didn't give up on me when sometimes I'd just ignored her when she wanted to have a conversation. It's not like I ignored her on purpose, I just didn't know how to talk to people, and my anxiety didn't really help either. Sometimes I wonder how Melissa and I became good friends. Later, I just assumed it's because we both stuck out like a sore thumb in this dumb highschool hierarchy.

From my peripheral, I see Phoenix pulls out his phone. Obviously to distract and busy himself till the math teacher arrives. I bite my lip, bringing my gaze and attention to the back page of my book. I pause my pencil on my book and stare at the small sketch I've managed to draw. The image is yet to make sense to me. I don't have to complete this drawing, I know it will turn out good. It's a drawing of an image that just flashed across my mind for a split second.

What is it? I have no clue. But I know it has something to do with Phoenix.

" Hey." A chippy voice says and it's pretty loud and it seems as if it's coming from next to me.

I turn my head to see three girls surrounding Phoenix. He looks taken aback, obviously not surprised. I'm thinking in his past school he's used to all the attention he gets from girls. For a second, I envied him. He's good looking. He's attractive. He has the attention. He's probably rich too with his life ahead of him. He's not lonely or depressed. He probably doesn't have a father who abuses him. He's perfect, it won't be a coincidence if his life is also perfect.

All the time I always wished I was someone else. Someone who's extroverted. Someone who likes to go out and party. Someone who knows how to start a conversation and even make friends. Someone who's got freedom. I've even secretly imagined myself being in a relationship with someone. Each time I think about it, it's just not as perfect as I imagined it to be. I guess I'm just stuck with being me. A book nerd who's sensitive to literally everything. A guy that can't start a conversation with anyone. And my anxiety doesn't even help matters.

I sigh, briefly shutting my eyes as I try to shut out the girls that are around Phoenix.

" I'm Jackie, and you're, like, super hot." A girl says.

I barely know anyone in my class. I don't even know most of my classmates' names. They've never really bothered to talk to me. I don't even think my classmates are aware I exist. I'm just this guy in the crowd that nobody sees me and I'm fine with it. The trauma of highschool can be overwhelming sometimes and maybe it's just not for me.

" Hey." Phoenix greets the girls. There's a strange tone under his voice, and it sounds like he's not pleased to be crowded by different girls who probably wants to date him.

" Well, I'm throwing a party this weekend and I would like you to come." A voice I recognize to be Jackie's says.

My hand is still gripping onto my pencil, hovering over my half drawn sketch. From my peripheral vision, the blonde who introduced herself as Jackie snatches Phoenix's phone and types something on it.

" Well, you've got my number. You should call me and let's talk about the details of my party."

Phoenix doesn't reply as Jackie awkwardly leaves, including the other girls with silent 'bye' directed at Phoenix.

I hear Phoenix scoffs silently, almost to himself, and I think he pockets his phone. Bringing back my focus on my drawing, I continue sketching again, taking my time to draw out the image in my head. A few minutes later, Mr. Scott walks into his classroom. He greets his class and half of the classroom responds. I don't. I have never been the person who responds to class greetings anyway.

For half of the class, I always feel Phoenix's gaze on me. At first, I try to ignore the fact that the new boy finds me interesting to stare at, even if it's for a second or a minute. But then, as the teaching goes on, I start to become uncomfortable at his not-so-subtle observations. His eyes bore into my skin, making me conscious of myself for the first time in forever. I discreetly run my hand through my hair when Phoenix looks away just to make sure I don't have shit on my hair.

I know I don't look my best, with the slight bruises around my neck burning a little with the constant contact with my sweater. Also, I'm not the most good looking teen out there. In fact, I don't consider myself good looking or attractive. I barely even look in the mirror, except when my father hits me, and that's because I have to stare at my reflection to cover up the bruises.

I think if I come to school one day with bruises all over my face without me bothering to cover them up with makeup, no one will really notice. Well, except Melissa, and maybe Mr. Brian, my Biology teacher. I'm an invisible highschool teen and I want it to stay that way. I've never really liked drama so that's a bonus for me.

Wondering why the new boy won't stop staring at me, I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to look at him, but my nervousness and anxiety stops me from bothering to stare at this mysterious new boy. When Mr. Scott's class ends, I quickly stand up, pushing my stuff into my backpack as I escape out of the classroom, not for once giving a simple glance towards the new boy.