Sometimes the school system really loves to fuck you over. Definitely not the good type, the type that is completely unexpected and hurts like all hell and below.

Two days of suspension.

Two days, because I got punched in the fucking face. Allegedly, I 'elevated' the situation according to Gerald's wacko bullshit claim. His jock friends really helped with the situation, helped in providing 'proof' that I was the one who started the fight.

Rotten flock of roosters. Loud and dumb with only their cancerous friend circles to fuel their sense of self-worth.

It doesn't help that the suspension was effective immediately, I didn't even have the time to retrieve my stuff before I had to leave. Sometimes it seems like the entire school is against me.

Except for her, she understands me. I was one of the first people here to talk to her after all.

It's all that bastard's fault, self-righteous little shithead. Prodding his nosy personality where it doesn't belong.

A few minutes of uneventful walking finally brought me to the door of my house, my dad was still out. Luckily, I still have my spare key. Hopefully he didn't change the door locks without my knowledge, otherwise I'm stuck out here until he comes back. He's been out longer and longer, he knows I'm old enough to be able to take care of myself. Taking advantage of that solely for more spare time for himself. I don't blame him though, much more me time. Adults have this fear of death considering their closer to it, so they want to go out to spend their life on more worthwhile activities.

I inserted the key, turning it. Hearing that click the door's lock made let me exhale in relief. I swung it open and stepped in. Closing it behind me.

I wasn't even allowed to bring my lunch with me. Left on the table back at school for the janitor later today. I fixed up a simple plate of eggs with bits of cheese in them. My favourite and only thing I know how to cook. Once that was done I decided a drive would suffice in easing this boredom.

My dad let's me use his car whenever I went out on an afternoon drive. I guess it never really bothered him. After all he taught me how to drive at a pretty young age, even got me a license if it had to come to that on the road.

So I grabbed the keys from his room, leapt into it and exited the garage. The car was crimson 58' Plymouth Fury, an antique. Pretty old actually, I remember my dad said it was from the fifties or something. It was used in a movie about a haunted car which I remember watching, it was called Chelsea or maybe Cassidy. It definitely started with a 'C', nonetheless it was a pretty cool ride. The engine growled like a full-grown lion and I loved it for that. We backed out of the driveway and zipped onto the road. Hopefully this would get my mind off of whatever the hell happened back there.

Driving down the same streets I've lived many years over, I'm hit with not nostalgia, but more a sense of boring repetitiveness. It was a thrill once I learned how to drive, and the freedom I felt when passing by people who walked was incomparable to anything beforehand. That freedom turned into a sense of ensnarement once time flew by, the world as I knew it grew. Once the town began metaphorically shrinking as my worldview widened, I knew I had to get out of here as fast as possible, but that would mean abandoning my dad. So I knew that I had to play nice and by the book, after all I can't just leave him to fend for his drunk self.

I pulled into a parking lot which corresponded with a nearby fast food restaurant. The eggs I had fried weren't really enough, and I had some cash and change hanging around in the unused cigarette tray.

I gently kicked the door open as I strode in, greeted by a mostly empty space. The few who'd already seated were most likely on their lunch break, the cashier was who you'd probably expect. A middle-aged man trying to survive off of the minimum wage, he seemed friendly though. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt for that.

"Hey, kid. Skipping school?"

Asked the cashier. I shook my head.

"Suspension."

I responded, approaching as I dropped down the coins and bill on the countertop.

"What for?"

He asked again. Curiously.

"Telling the principal that he's running a dictatorship."

I responded. Receiving a good laugh from the employee.

"You definitely got some balls, kid. What'll it be?"

I gave a long look at the menu up above, a blackboard hanging via chain from the ceiling. Products and prices etched in chalk, some unreadable. I swear to God whoever's writing this stuff down has Parkinsons.

"I'll take... number seven? I'm sorry I can't really read that."

I said. The cashier looked behind him to see what I was referring to.

"Oh, the Chee-Z Delight. That's one of our best rated Burgers."

He smiled.

"Uh huh, very interesting. Oh, may I have a drink with that too? Doesn't really matter which."

I half-smiled back. Walking over to and talking a seat down in a table beside a rectangular gap in the wall. I rested my elbow on the surface. Waiting for whoever manned the oven to deliver, silently hoping that it wasn't whoever wrote that awful text on that chalkboard.

A few minutes of waiting later and cashier guy handed me my meal on a cheap plastic tray. I went down on it, thanking him with a thumbs up.

But after a few bites, I noticed something in the corner of my eye. I looked out of the hole in the wall and saw... her.

What was she doing out here?... and who's that following her?