Shadows You Left Behind.

Pulling my chair back, making a scraping sound against the floor, I sat down, slumping my scruffy Misfits shoulder bag onto the desk.
I glanced around nervously, I was a little late, but the teacher didn't seem to notice.
I fiddled with the zip on my bag before tugging it open, pulling my book, pencil case and planner out and throwing the bag down beside me.The girl next to me shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, flicking her hair back behind her neck, as if she didn't want to be seen with me. How nice of her.
I sighed, sinking down into my chair a little more.
Why did I always have to be the outcast?
I'd never done anything to put people off me, because I'd never had the chance. Ever since the first day, people simply ignored me, a few would stop to talk, then after realising we had nothing in common, would leave and join the rest of the babble, who were peroxide blonde chicks who idolized assholes. Or guys that spent more time trying to pump up the non-existent and unimportant muscles that they hoped were forming on their limbs.
Of course there were a few exceptions, but it seemed I was too weird for the weirdos, too.

"Okay, Frank, Could you read this paragraph aloud for the class, please." I sat up slowly.
"Uh, yeah." Everyone stared at me, they probably hadn't even heard me talk before, because they're too self absorbed to notice there was another human in the room, heaven forbid, start conversation.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Of Mice and Men was a drama about the dreams of a pair of migrant agricultural labourers in California. It was critically acclaimed and Steinbeck's 1962 Nobel Prize citation called it a "little masterpiece."" I stopped at the end of the paragraph. Looking around sheepishly I noticed people were looking at me, sniggering a little and I heard a comment directed at my
hair.
I rolled my eyes and slumped back down again.
"Jessica, can you read the next sentence?" Mrs Parker stated, relieving the burning of eyes on my back.


After a painful English lesson, the bell rang.
"Thank god for that.." I muttered under my breath, gathering my stuff together and stuffing it into my bag, before slipping out of the classroom, managing to avoid snide remarks and shoves from the utter I called my classmates.

"Can you sign my slip, please?" I asked the receptionist.
"Another physiotherapy appointment, Frank? I hope your wrist gets better soon." She said, looking at my bandaged arm with sympathy.
The pen swirled around the sheet of paper and she slid it across the desk to me, I thanked her and walked out into the street, unwrapping the cloth.

Okay, so I may have possibly pretended to break my wrist so I could get out of Biology class. But seriously, the idiots in that class were responsible for half my pain and injury, and I really couldn't be bothered with more bruises, so I liked to go off to my favourite place; the woods.
I loved the woods because it was quiet, and it was deserted.

As I hid inside the bushes, nuzzling up against a tree trunk, notepad in hand. I heard a voice. It was male, and very close, I could almost feel the owner's breath on me, but I couldn't see him anywhere.
I began to panic a little, someone was scarily close to me.
Who is he?
Why is he here?
Is he about to beat me up?
But, I listened more carefully, his voice sounded gentle.
As he got closer I realized he was singing quietly to himself, a sweet melody I recognized.
I heard a scratching noise coming from right behind me; a rather disconcerting sound in a misty abandoned woods. I realized it was the tree against some metal, but why would he have metal?

I looked up to see the singing guy, climbing up the tree, his belt scratching against the bark; making the weird noise I had heard.
I couldn't see his face, only his legs dangling from the branches. He was wearing scuffy black denim jeans, with a chain hanging from the pockets, his hair was unwashed and greasy, and he was wearing a scraggy pair of beaten up sneakers. I smiled at the familiarity of his clothing, and at the song he was singing. He was obviously just as much of an outcast as me. I wondered if he could see me. I got up, as quietly as I could, scrabbling at the ground until I found my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, before fleeing the scene.
I did not feel the need to socialize.
I wanted to be alone.

Notes

Hope you enjoy! This is my third fanfiction! (Why I create more work for myself, I will never know xD)
XOXOg
/Edited 05.12.13/
/Edited 23.03.14/
/Edited 18.04.14/
Yeah i know, I edit too much, I'm sorry. xD