If I Make A List Of People I Hate, I'll Sure To Make You Number One

Let's start with a happy subject, shall we? Let's start on the subject of the things I hate the most. Vic Fuentes would make a clear number one, but spot number two has intense rivalry between me and my sports teacher. I take the narcissistic approach and went for my sports teacher, leaving spot number three for myself. I think number four would be maths and number five Maia Newton's latest thing (I think his name was Ray or something like that, but I doubt that he'd last a week and Maia herself had just enough trouble remembering what the fuck he was called as I did). Number six was school and number seven; number seven was detention. I did not like detention to put it lightly. The whole corrupted punishment made my insides churn and my lunch take a return trip back up my throat and all over a freshly cleaned carpet. Lovely.

Now let's take a look at my current situation: I'm stuck in the lovingly crafted hell that is detention, in school, with Ray (or wait was it Roy?) sat beside me and taking up two chairs in the process, doing a double sided A4 of sums I had little to no understanding of, but was just accepting the fact I was going to get every one of them incorrect, and whilst being supervised by Satan himself and all of his chins. So, as you can guess, I'm having a great time. I hoped I threw up all over his face; that'd wipe that stupid smirk right off and undoubtedly land me in detentions until I died, but overall seeing my own puke smother his greasy skin and slither down his retching throat would for the most part and in a horribly sadistic manner, be worth it.

A few minutes had passed in some weird state of half calm, half soul destroying silence, before my absolute best friend, Ray/Roy nudged me a little too harshly for it to be anything but on purpose and I considered turning to see if had any nasty remark he'd need to inform me of, or just simply just took pleasure in numbing my arm via persistent bruising. I went for the latter and ignored him, despite how persistently he kept nudging me over the past five minutes. It was far from pleasant and I considered smashing his skull in with my own fist, but I doubt that my aforementioned actions would go down too well, considering the dead corpse and bloody mess I would have just created for the cleaning ladies to deal with; I doubt any of the teachers even know what basic hygiene, never mind what crime scene clean-up is.

Eventually, I heard a hushed whisper, "Kevin!" It was nice to know the inability, or simply lack of effort to remember one another's names was mutual. It was good to finally have something in common with this dickhead. I almost laughed at Ray/Roy's lacklustre naming skills, before I realised that laughing was unacceptable for Mr Chins, because laughing was a positive emotion and we wouldn't ever want any positivity here in this goddamn shithole of a school, now would we? Of course not - silly fucking me.

I rolled my eyes and turned to look at him, "what?" I mouthed discreetly, taking great care to prevent getting myself into yet another half an hour of hell. He passed me a note, scribbled in barely readable script, with a faulty blue biro. I couldn't exactly commend him on the subtlety of the note passing, seeing as I was certain that at least ninety percent of the other students in the room saw him hand the folded slip of paper to me. Thank the lord that Mr Chins has the I.Q. of half a goldfish's skin cell.

Whos that dude staring at u hes creepy. is he ur boyfreind? do u wanna fuck him lol

As you could tell, I was sat next to a mini Einstein here. I refused to communicate with someone that couldn't even spell friend correctly. I before E, except after C, bitch. I doubted the bitch came along with that rhyme they practically brainwashed into the heads of seven year olds, but then again society was pretty messed up, so I couldn't exactly one hundred percent it.

Before, I scribbled a note back, I ignored the possibility of him pulling a rather unfunny prank on me, pushed all the potential humiliation aside and turned to look at 'that dude'. It really wasn't just a guy and I really wished I hadn't looked, I really wished I hadn't noticed, I really wished I hadn't been curious and I really fucking wished I'd just ignored him. But I didn't. I turned and looked.

I wished I hadn't.

Vic Fuentes was our prefect supervisor for this detention. The guy telling me off was Vic, Vic who wanted to suss me out and be my friend, now had the perfect and almost obligatory means in which to do so. Therefore, to put it lightly, I was screwed. And to put it in realistic and slightly more morbid terms, now would be a fantastic opportunity to jump right off a fucking building.

Of course he fucking was. I bet he looked up my records and fucking planned this. I bet he had this whole operation down to a T, and I bet even Ray/Roy was on his side, he'd even paid the whale of a kid to point his looming figure out to me halfway through the detention and of course at that most convenient moment when our eyes made contact- No, I was getting paranoid now, but that's what life does to you, I guess. And whose fault is that? For once, one time only, not mine.

Then our eyes made contact and his lips turned up into a small smile at me. Mine turned down into an antisocial scowl; some say my social skills are my best aspect. Others say I should burn in hell, but I take it all with a pinch of salt really: the world's so full of bullshit; you'll fuck up your nose sniffing it all out. It all get to the point when that's all you can smell and you'll never trust anyone or anything ever again.

"Detention? That's naughty of you, Kellin." He mouthed at me as he leaned just too casually against the wall. I hated that, I hated him; the way he thought this was all fucking easy, the way he thought this was all fucking fine - I hated that, I hated it all. I hated that smug smile, a stupid grin made crooked by the weighted scales of society and that glint in his eyes, which caught the sunlight every so often and sparkled like he was some kind of perfect being. Perfect being? Ha. What am I thinking? Here it is again; the chlorine messing with my head, they probably pump the shit throughout the whole school just to maintain a piss poor state of law and order. If it'd pass the inspection then it was good enough for everyone and even deemed satisfactory enough to stick on the school prospectus which of course was 95% photo shop, bullshit and downright lies.

"Fuck off." I mouthed back. For one time and one time only, finding a sudden great interest in algebra. My maths teacher ought to be proud of me, but I wasn't sure he even possessed such an emotion.

-

I ignored Ray/Roy's constantly attempts to catch my attention for the next ten minutes, until his hellish voice boomed into the classroom. I daren't look up, in fear of bursting into laughter as his chins wobbled furiously as he spoke: I was not in the mood for another session of hellish torture, featuring Vic Fuentes. Who seemed to have spent his entire time here, staring at me from where he leant against the wall, looking far too happy for a detention room. I'm pretty sure that Mr Chins (I'd never bothered to learn his name) would quite happily slap the shit out of his smug little smile. And for once in a blue moon, that'd make two of us, but he'd probably slap the shit out of me immediately after; an idea I wasn't exactly as keen on. Vic however might be, but I wouldn't exactly blame him - I'm a pain in the ass to get to know.

"Listen up you ignorant delinquents." I wasn't sure his intelligence stretched far enough to even begin to comprehend the meanings of those two words he just used, so I figure he'd probably pre written some sort of speech here and ran it through a thesaurus to make sure it meant nothing to half of us, so he could get away with getting us into more detentions for failing to understand. What a sadistic god complex you have. I hope god takes it back and shoves karma right back down your throat. Along with a big dick for you to fucking suck. How do you like that pay rise and promotion to head of water sports now, fuckface?

"I do not want to see any of your sad little faces in another detention ever again." The feeling's mutual, unfortunately you seem to have arranged the worst situation here for both of us; I'd like to applaud you excessively on that. "Except you, Mr Quinn. You'll be in deep trouble if I don't see you at your other detentions, hear me?" Vic shot me a questioning look that I unfortunately caught in the corner of my eye. I pretended however, that I hadn't noticed, and didn't make eye contact with the boy. And I gave myself the liberty of ignoring that stuck up prick eyebrow raise he seemed to have commandeered permanently onto all of his facial expressions. In my opinion, it just made him look ridiculously, but of course I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to laugh at him by pointing it out to him now, was I?

"Yes, sir." I replied meekly and he smirked at my squeaky tone. I expected laughter, but for once there wasn't. Okay, since he was here, I wasn't exactly surprised. Discipline was a brutal, savage, but successful tactic with him and his petition to have physical punishment in schools legalised. I'm sure that would have gotten him into a whole load of shit if he wasn't so damn right scary. It was fucking ridiculous; he could rob a bank just by glaring at an employer.

"Good, good." He checked his wrist watch in an almost mechanical chain of movements. "Detention ends in one minute and forty seconds-" He was cut off by the squeaking of chairs, "Which means it ends in one minute and forty seconds time, not now! So, put that bag away, Matthews!" A small year seven kid squirmed in his seat and dropped his bag skittishly. I felt sorry for the poor kid, being lumped into detention on his day, because honestly the little guy looked about as harmful as a fly with a broken wing and had probably just forgotten his homework and now had been tossed into the vilest and revolting depths of hell. At least he'd have good reason to make sure he didn't ever get himself into another one, but it was barbaric at the very least.

Then came the words, I'd been dreading to fall from his greasy, plumped up lips, "Mr Fuentes, would you like a word?" No, no he would fucking not.

"Yes, thank you sir." Oh so I guess these two were best friends; would make sense - number one and number two on my hate list sharing a friendship and a certain obsession with me, but each for entirely different reasons, of course. Imagine Vic putting me in detentions and Mr Chins stalking me and constantly asking if I was alright, whilst hopelessly trying to befriend me in a manner that made him look like a deranged, lovesick puppy. That would really make me want to retch, because that'd upgrade from annoying and irritating to downright annoying and borderline paedophilic, but I'm sure he'd get let off that as well, now wouldn't he? Did anyone at all have the guts to stand up to this guy? Okay, I was hardly the one to talk, but I was sixteen, he looked as if he was at least 500, or at least anything equal to however many pounds he weighed.

Vic stood up and addressed us, his eyes however falling on me. "I'd like to make sure you're all informed that your actions do in fact have consequences," well no shit, Sherlock; I couldn't have figured that one out on my own, could I? "And I hope today has taught you that. Also Kellin, I'd like to speak with you." Well, I wouldn't like to speak with you, dickface. Mr Chins (I decided that this was his permanent name for now on. Anyway, I found it fit rather well) snorted as he looked at my disheartened gaze and I soon began to suspect that the two of them were working together or something of the sort. Or maybe I just had a sickening a case of paranoia, but my aforementioned suspicions seemed all the more intriguing.

The bell rang loudly, deafening at least a few people and Mr Chins bellowed out for us not to rush out, however I found myself being trampled by some girl with far too much make up and far too little clothes on and being pushed against a desk by Ray/Roy- wait was it Ron? Nah, he wasn't ginger enough. Then again, his hair did look like it'd been butt raped by hair dye, so I couldn't really tell at all. Maybe I should stop making dumb Harry Potter references and focus on getting out of this hell on earth and back home where I could sit and think of sadistic murder plots, that the target of which would vary by the hour between Vic Fuentes and myself.

-

Vic and I were standing out in the corridor, where he practically had me pinned against the wall to avoid me running off. And no, not in that way at all. Thank god it wasn't in that way though, because if the love part in lovesick puppy became prominent, I doubted that I could put up with his defiant attempts to get me to trust him- No, Kellin. He's not gay, he's got a girlfriend - why would he be gay? And most importantly, why the fuck do you care?

"Kellin, I can get you out of the excessive amount of detentions you somehow seem to have accumulated-" He began, his brown eyes fixated on mine. If I avoided his gaze and let the words sink in, the situation actually became somewhat appealing, because even I wasn't stupid enough to pass up an opportunity of this sort, despite the chance that is was most likely all bullshit. Everything was bullshit in this life, especially when Vic Fuentes was around. He stank of it.

"It's all him. That fucking son of a bitch hates me." Vic chuckled at my sudden outburst of rant towards Mr Chins. The laughter made me sway away from my conclusion that the two of them were working against me, but this could all be an act; I wasn't exactly sure, I could never be sure.

"I can see that." I rolled my eyes, "don't worry: he hates you too." Well isn't that just lovely of him? I really appreciate it, you know.

"That's lovely." I noted, in an irritated tone, wondering whether I just wanted to get home, or just away from Vic, or maybe just school in general. Most likely all three. Or maybe I just wanted to get away from life itself. As time went on, the fourth possibility became all the more exciting and all the more enticing.

"Well, I can get you out of those detentions and your swimming lessons with him." I raised my eyebrows: there had to be some sort of hidden cost and I snickered, imagining the next few seconds involving Vic asking me to suck him off. That would truly be rather hilarious- nah, I wouldn't put him down as the gay type. Then again, there isn't really gay type; it's more of a personal preference. Homophobia confuses me. People confuse me. Life confuses me. I confuse me.

"You're fucking kidding me?" He shook his head firmly and looked at me with a stern expression. "Wait, what's the hidden cost?" He chuckled; he sounded like a prick, which he was one, so I guess it fits really. Sadistic, I know, but guess what - it fits really.

"Do you not trust me or something?" Stop talking to me like we're friends, Vic Fuentes. Because, trust me, we're not and we'll never be. Douchebag mode activated.

"It's more of that I don't like you." I snapped at him, panicking moments later, wondering if he'd take back the offer, because despite how much I despised him, I wasn't stupid enough to pass up an offer of avoiding Mr Chins - that sounded rather like heaven to me. Anything involving avoiding the son of a bitch was godly of course. Mr Chins was practically the antichrist.

"Kellin, can you just put this idiocy past you?" He sighed at me; disappointed. Okay, maybe for once I should just listen. Could my ego take that? For just one time? I doubted it, but went for it regardless.

"Okay," I inhaled sharply, "what's the catch?"

"I want you to help me in the library during your swimming lessons. After school I'd appreciate it if you spoke to me, but I'm not making that compulsory." All in all, it didn't sound that bad, but then again this was Vic Fuentes, so of course I was going to be wrong. He'd make me wrong. He liked to win, I could tell that from the excessive polishing of his head boy badge at the very least.

"Okay. I accept." He smiled at me. I was in the shits by now.

"Good, I'm glad."

"Vic, one question." I was far too curious about something I shouldn't be. Curiosity was always a bad idea, but one that I seemed to carry with me as a moral principal.

"Yeah?" He grinned at me, in a way that irritated me far too little, "ask away."

"Why do you care about me so much? I'm just a weirdo with a train wreck of a life-"

He interrupted me, "no, Kellin. I care about you; I care about you because you're perfect."

OOH;) Do you hate me now?;) Please leave a vote and/or comment if you enjoyed, because I really appreciate it guys:) I love you all<3