My Evil Angel
NoahWell then. She's definitely a peace of work. Her red hair matched her fiery personality, that's for sure. As she walked away she held her head high, despite the fact that I've always seen her walking by herself. What was her name again? Aubrey? No, it was close but that wasn't it. Audrey! That was her name.
Audrey Lawrence. It fit her. Tough. It said I can stand on my own without anyone else, but also said she was kind of fragile. In a weird way.
I better not dwell on it too much. I had
I picked up my things and walked out the door, and into the fluorescent lit hallway, which accented the bright white painted walls. It hurt my eyes a little, even with my jet black bangs which cast a nice shadow over them. I looked down at the red carpet.
As I walked through the hallway into the art wing where my locker was, everyone was scooting towards the wall like they normally did whenever I walked through. I was used to the stares and such by now. And I knew I had a bad habit of judging people, but at least I was working on it. Everyone else looked at me, saw an emo freak, and went by it. Like I said, I was used to it by now, but it still irked me.
It was times like this that I hated being by myself with no one to talk to. If I'm not listening to someone or something else, then I'm forced to listen to my own thoughts. I just don't want to think myself into depression, like I've done before. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. I know this, but my heart keeps saying 'you monster.' I shut my eyes tight, and tried not to think about it, but all I could see were huge, orange flames...
“Noah!” I heard my name called, which I was very extremely grateful for, and turned around to see Wesley walking toward me wearing a homemade helmet, which was nothing more than a colander and a broken backpack strap. His curly-frizzy brown hair was shaggy, and sticking out from underneath the colander.
He was one of the few students who actually wore the uniform – a beige button down vest with a white collar undershirt, tie, and black and blue plaid pants and/or skirt if your a girl- like he was supposed to. I've had many a good laughs about it.
He skipped first grade, so he was still only 15, but being barely 5' 4”, a semi high voice, and extra skinny, he seemed way younger.
“Hey Nemo,” I answered when he caught up with me. 'Nemo' was my personal stamp for him. His last name was Reif, pronounced like coral reef, so I started calling him Nemo. Yes a lot of people took it the wrong way. I'm pretty sure 75% of the school thought we were gay. My guy-liner probably didn't help much either.
“Hey, check it out!” he said knocking on the helmet. His green eyes got really big with anticipation.
“Where did you get the colander?” I asked instead.
“I borrowed it from the kitchen.”
In Nemo language, that meant stole. He was some kind of genius, and to pass the time, or for convenience, he made stuff. His dorm was cluttered with it. But sometimes he didn't always have what he needed, which lead him to 'borrow' a lot of things.
“Well?” he asked again.
“What am I looking at exactly?” I asked, this time launching him into a teacher-like explanation/lecture about how it's not exactly finished, inserting a few big words here and there, and how he has to add gorilla glue, and then pack on a soft material, preferably cotton, to stick and put a paper bag around it to compress whatever soft material he was using. For the record I knew exactly what he was talking about, but watching him explain was very entertaining. He immediately turned all teacher on me, and suddenly became 50 feet tall, though I was still looking down on him. I sat there chuckling to myself until I realized something.
“What do you need a helmet for?”
“What do I need it for?” His face went a little bit grim, casting an invisible shadow, and he signaled for me to come closer. I leaned in.
“Desmond.” he said in a low whisper in my ear.
Desmond. I heard about him, how he was a controlling, bullying jackass, who loved weak targets. I've never had interaction with him though. But due to this revelation, that might change. No one messes with the people around me and gets away with it. No one.
“What did he do?” I asked back, mimicking his soft tone, and played with my lip ring with my tongue to keep my anger from doubling over.
“Well, it started off as just a few shoves against the lockers every once in a while. But lately it's been worse.” as he was talking, I could feel my grip on my backpack getting tighter and tighter. “More aggressive, and taunting. Like he's trying to intimidate me.”
I thought about this, and shook my head. “He's just trying to boost his rep. Don't worry about it.” I knew what I was saying was utter crap. I didn't believe a thing I was saying, but I had to stall him, somehow, even if it was with an excuse as thin as this.
My mind was already forming plans to make him pay. And I mean seriously pay. Nemo must have noticed, because he looked at me in a worried way.
“Noah,” he said, like he was cautioning me. He spoke slowly, like he was speaking to a child, “I don't want you to do anything. I got this. Okay?” Damn. I should have known with his freaky genius I.Q. He would have figured out everything I was saying was bullshit.
“So I'm supposed to just sit and wait while he pushes you around like a dish cloth?” I said, my voice escalating with every word, causing some people to stop and stare for a few seconds.
“Noah,” he said again, this time his face and tone more serious. “Don't. Do. Anything.” His expression was urging me to say okay, but my mind was screaming 'hell no!” It wasn't like me to just lay about when I know a friend of mine was wronged. But then again, I also didn't want to lose the only friend I have. I turned around, and got 3 notebooks from my locker before responding. “Fine,” I said, slamming my locker. I turned back around to face him. “I won't do anything.”
Nemo let out a big sigh of relief, and relaxed his whole body. “Thank you!” he practically shouted.
I'm a schemer. I'll be the first to admit it. I could come up with the most elaborate, plan full of twists and traps to get you in the deepest trouble, and well, let's just say sometimes they got a bit out of hand.
“Well, I'll keep you posted about how the helmet's coming along,” he said knocking on the helmet with his fist again, snapping me out of my thoughts. “See you later!” he called as he went his way. I waved back.
What am I going to do? I most definitely just can't pretend like my best (and only) friend isn't being bullied by the world's biggest jerk. But if I intervene, I could lose my best (and only) friend. I know he's just looking out for me, and doesn't want me to go crazy over this, but does he really not want me do a single thing? Damn it. No. I got it. I'll give this Desmond dude a trial period. If he doesn't stop, I'll tell Nemo I tried, but I just can't hold back anymore.
Three chances. Desmond gets three chances. If it doesn't stop, or at the very least lessen, I'm coming for his throat.