Lola Pierce

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A week passed, and I found myself slowly getting into the rhythm of all this school stuff. However, being home schooled was a lot better way of learning. It was all one on one, and I understood it better. But that also meant I had to sit for hours on end with Patrick, my dad, who unfortunately, was my home tutor.

I listened to my brother and kept my distance from class clown Joseph. Although that didn't stop him from trying to strike up a conversation with me. Just a few short answers here and there, and maybe a friendly smile in the hallway was enough to keep him at bay. I haven't made any friends, I just can't grasp the idea of friendship. I have a lot of trust issues. So instead of trying to make some friends I just hang around with my brother all day. He too was having trouble fitting in, with his hyper active behaviour and all.

The piercing sound of coaches Coach's whistle blows again, the sound somehow directing itself straight at me. I stand up, my skinny knees and the rest of my body covered with mud. My sports gear is soaking wet and filthy.  Sticking to my skinny frame, making me all wet and sticky.

"You! Lozinski! Get your butt inside and take a shower!" Coach yells, pointing at me.

Outside sports aren't really my thing. When I was little I couldn't catch a ball if you paid me. Not that I mind though, I hate sports. This is more of my brother's game thing. He's in his zone while I'm being the typical awkward brother embarrassing him. Of coarse I'm only older by a few minutes but still that makes all the difference sometimes.

I nod at the coach. Turning my back, I make my way back to the school building. Ruby punches my shoulder and gives me a smile that said 'at least you tried'. I press my lips together as the rain continues to pour down my dirty face making me shiver. I run, splashes of mud flopping up me and my clothes getting all the more soaked until I finally make it inside the building. Shaking my wet hair and letting out a deep sigh, leaning back against the now closed doors.

"You really suck at sports".

I open my tired eyes, looking over towards the dark haired boy leaning against the wall facing me. Joseph, I should have known he would be lurking around somewhere. A little odd though, him standing by himself in an empty corridor looking out towards the sport fields. Was he watching me?

"I kinda gathered that" I laugh half-heartedly, my tiny frame starting to shiver from my dampened clothes, beads of rain running from my fringe and onto my nose.

He chuckles, stepping away from the wall and coming closer.

"Want me to walk you to the showers?" He offers kindly, even though he already knows I'm well aware of where the wash rooms are located.

I look at him, a small smile pressed into his pink lips, his long eyelashes batting a couple of times. He really is a good looking guy, and I secretly hate him for being so perfect and handsome while I'm standing here looking like a wet dog.

"Joseph! There you are! Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you", a girl is coming down the corridor, towards me and Joseph.

She's pretty, long strawberry blonde hair that fell in loose locks. Ginger freckles on her very high cheek bones, warm green eyes and beautiful lips.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Joseph asks with a sigh, rolling his brown eyes and pushing his hands into his back pockets.

"Aren't you?" She retorts, shooting him daggers, before turning to look at me. Her green eyes hold something like disgust as she takes in my muck covered body.

I divert my gaze back to Joseph who seems aggravated with this girl. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he rocks back on fourth.

"I'm showing the new kid here to the showers, I'll be back in class after that" he sighs, turning to look at her, mouth dropped open with a bored look on his face.

She frowns, looking at me and then at Joseph, "I can show him to the showers, you get back to class" she smiles sweetly, glancing over at me.

"Baby..." Joseph groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

Baby? They must be a couple, which is surprising, being as I thought Joseph Spellman was gay. Maybe I was reading him wrong, he might just be really friendly around guys. No that can't be right, I've heard the whole school talk about him and his previous relationships in the cafeteria and all of his ex's have been guys. He could play for both teams I suppose.

"I care about your grades, Joseph. now go" she says softy, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and then pushing him on his way.

"Whatever" he moans, walking away without arguing.

I watch him go, feeling all the more awkward as the silence grows thicker between me and this girl.

"Hi, my name is Lola" she smiles warmly, holding out her hand then pulling it away as she spots my muddy fingers.

"Johnny" I say quickly, turning my back and walking away from her. Hoping she won't follow me.

"Wait! I need to talk to you!" She snaps, running along behind me and grabbing my shoulder, flipping me around to face her.

"Thanks, but I already know where the boys' wash rooms are" I smile, convinced that she was going to take her warm and caring nature and get the fuck out of my face.

"What?" She snorts, as if she's never heard the conversation she had with Joseph.

"I don't have time for this" I sigh, turning my back but she's quick to spin me around again, a frown on her rosy pink lips.

"Listen, if you haven't already heard, I'm Joseph Spellman's girlfriend and-"

"I thought he was gay" I snort, amused at how upset she was getting herself.

"Was!" she snaps, picking up my words. She calms down and composes herself, "and I won't see any man or boy" she takes in my tiny child-like figure, "take him away from me, do I make myself clear?".

"Why would I want your man?" I tell her "I'm straight, you have no reason to think I'm gay. I haven't flirted with Joseph and I don't hang around with him. If anything, he's the one who's been flirting with me. You should have known something like this would happen when you chose to date a gay guy" I say in monotone, my expression blank to show her I have no interest whatsoever with her trust issues.

"He's not gay!" She screams, stomping her foot. I turn my back and walk away from her.

"Bitch please, his jeans are tighter than yours" I chuckle, hearing her storm off. What a lunatic, I think. Talk about having an over protective girlfriend.

I finally make it to the wash rooms. Thankfully they're empty which means I can get undressed without the hassle of trying to hide up my cuts and scars. I strip off my soaking wet sports clothes, kicking them under a bench. My sports bag was already in here. I unzip it, pulling out my neatly folded clothes and laying them out on top of the bench.

I walk to the last shower that stood over at the end of the room, jumping in letting the cold water hit me. I have no need to fiddle with it to get the perfect temperature. I prefer my showers freezing. Hot water burns my cuts, and makes them red and aggravated. So I have no choice but to shower cold. It was painful at first, and took my breath away,but I got used to the feeling. Now I even have cold baths, it's a better solution than cutting. Instead of waking up with stinging wrists I get a lot of colds.

I didn't mean to self-harm, it just happened. I was thirteen, walked in on my brother Nicholas. He was standing over a bloody sink, slitting his wrists. And then dropping to the floor as I watched. As time passed I found myself turning to my brother's antics to deal with stress. Now it's come to the point where we cut together, sharing the same blade. I tell him to stop, but he just laughs and pulls up my sleeve, showing me I'm doing the same thing to myself. I don't know if it's ever going to stop. I don't even know if I even want it to. I've depended on a blade to help me out of so many situations that to stop now would be like losing a family member.

I turn off the shower, my pale body now clean from dirt and mud, the odour of sweat banished. I wish I had a body like other boys, the ones with thick arms and six pack stomachs. I think puberty was a little harsh on me. not only did it forget my height, but it forgot my voice, my skinny figure, even body and facial hair. I did grow a treasure trail, but it looked a little lonely so I shaved it off, leaving my skin a dry kind of smooth.

I walk over to my bench, looking for the clothes I had laid out, but they were gone. The bench and pegs all empty.

"No, no, no, no" I mutter, turning around to see if I'd misplaced them, only to find every bench empty.

All what was left was my boxer briefs, led out on the back bench as if on purpose. Someone had put them there. Somebody must have walked in while I was taking a shower, and taken my clothes. But why? I look around the rest of the room to see if I could steal someone else's clothes but none of their bags were to be seen. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Wait in here until the rest of the class comes in to get change and then get embarrassed for wearing nothing but underwear? No.

I could put on my pants and sneak to the lost and found closet to see if there's anything in there that would fit. But that would mean risking getting caught. If I wait any longer, class is going to be over for everyone, and I'm going to be the laughing stock of the school.

Rushing over to my pants I wrestle into them, I hope I don't get caught. One glance at me would give away the fact that I self-harm. I can't afford for everyone to know that, secondary school is hard enough as it is.

Creeping up to the door I push it open just a little. Peeking my head out through it I check the hallways to find them empty. I step out, hands draping from my skinny shoulders to try and hide some of my cuts just in case. I walk, memorising the route in my head so I could find the lost and found closet. There must be something in there that will fit me. I cautiously tiptoe down the halls, getting closer and closer to the lost and found closet. Who said secondary school was going to be fun?

The piercing sound of the school bell rings out aloud and I freeze instantly. Cursing myself for not checking the time. I look around hoping there would be somewhere I could hide away from the trouble I'm about to get caught up in. Or maybe by chance the floor might just open up and suck me in. But it's already too late, the doors to the classrooms burst open, and out floods an army of school kids, all laughing and chatting with their mates until they see a very red and embarrassed me. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, I look mortified. My finger nails claw in to my own shoulders and I bite down hard on my bottom lip.

This, without a doubt, is the second worst day of my life.

I thought they were all going to laugh and poke fun at me, but they don't, instead they were doing something much worse. They were just staring at me. Some point and whisper to their mates, a few giggle silently, and others have looks of disgust on their faces. Others murmur something about the cuts on my body, some not having a clue where they came from, thinking I had been attacked. A girl steps out of the crowd that circled me, a look of concern on her face. She places a hand on my shoulder and asks if I'm OK.

This is horrible. I'm horrible. They're disgusted with me, each one of them jumping to conclusions as if they know what I've been through to do something like this to myself.

I storm past them all, giving them all a death glare. They move out of my way. I know that I would cry if one was to pick on me at this moment. Not that it helps, because I cry anyway. Not the cute, icky, kind of cry, but the downright ugly cry. The type of cry where my face scrunches up and my nose goes all runny. My pale cheeks glow a ferocious kind of red, my blue eyes glaze over with walls of tears, and my lips form a crinkled line, trying their best to hold back the sobs.

In other words, you could say, I have an ugly cry.

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|edited thanks to my wonderful editor, Lomax343

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