The Outcast - Chapter Five

Today's off. I don't yet know how I know that, but there's something strange going on. I can feel it in my gut everytime I breathe. I'm at school, sitting in my desk. The classroom is rather small, and sort of roomy. There's a small couch on the far side of the room. It sits up to three people. Next to it is a rocking chair. I don't know why they're in there, I think they're there for parent-teacher conferences, but then I'm not sure.

Not like my dad would ever be caught dead discussing me with a teacher.

The town I live in, Hara, is quite small and secluded. There's not another town for some twenty-five, thirty miles or so. We don't allow cars to drive through, unless you're someone important, like a teacher or mayor or lawyer or something. Normal farm kids, like me, don't have that privelege. My father doesn't either, which may be the cause for some of his idiotic drinking, for he knows he doesn't have to worry about driving home or wrecking the car. Still, I think it would be nice to own a car, to speed through the streets and feel the wind pounding against me. It would be nice.

But then, no one would let me get one, anyway. I'm the Outcast.

Outcasts aren't allowed to have cars.

Which sucks, because I'm fifteen. The driving age here is seventeen; in a few years I will be old enough to drive. Unfortunately, someone had to go and name me the Outcast.

The town of Hara is pretty much a farming town. There's quite a few farms around here. Mine is rather small, basically just a field and a house. We don't have a barn or cows or anything, though I wouldn't mind having a horse. Or a dog. A dog would be nice, it would be a friend. At least I like to think so.

Many people in Hara have horses and cows and pigs and whatnot. Not my dad. Not me. He's too drunk to think about animals. Hell, every cent we get goes to his booze and occasionally to the food that gets stashed away in his room. I like to think of him as keeping the food for a good reason, but I know in my heart that he's just being selfish. To him, I'm still just the Outcast.

Even my own father is against me.

This life sucks. It honestly does. I've said this before, and I really should stop complaining, but I can't help it. Living this life is enough to drive anyone insane, like it's doing to me now. The lonliness should be something I get used to, but it's not. I'm never used to lonliness.

I sigh and let my gaze slip down to my desk. Mrs. Parkins is in the front of the room, lecturing us. I'm in the back of the room, in the corner near the window. It's nice to be able to space out and look out at the world whilst in this prison of a school, but I'm secluded back here as well. No one sits anywhere near me. It's like I have something that's contagious. Nobody wants anything to do with me. Everyone hates me at first glance.

Except Jordan. He didn't hate me, he gave me a chance. I have yet to see him, so I assume he split town this morning. Which really sucks and puts me in a sour mood. I liked him; he was nice. He didn't get discouraged with me right off the bat. We could have been friends, maybe, which would have been nice.

But I can't dwell on what might have been. He's gone.

Mrs. Parkins looks at me sharply. "Mr. Finner," she says in that voice that makes everything sound like a complaint. I hate her voice, it's so whiny. I groan inwardly and look at her. She's a middle-aged woman who probably weighs around, oh, say...two hundred pounds. She's pretty short compared to most women I see around here, and her face is always pinched up with that damn frown. "Would you please pay attention?" she says 'please' with such emphasis.

I sigh and nod my head slowly. She mumbles something inaudible under her breath and returns to the lesson, writing uninteresting things on the board and trying to lecture us about them. I say trying because no one is paying attention. Everyone's eyes are glazed and their heads are about to slam down onto their desks in boredom.

But of course she picks me to call on out of everyone.

Because she's aware that I'm the Outcast.

There's a knock at the classroom door. The door is an old wooden thing, with mold spots on it. There's spots of paint all over it, from where they started to paint it but never quite finished. She opens it and it scraps against the wooden floors. There's a groove in the floor from the door sliding over it, because the door is just too large to fit in the doorway, but they made it fit all the same. Now the floor is scarred because of it.

There's a familiar figure standing there, and I instantly perk up. My eyes lose their dullness and brighten.

It's Jordan.

He didn't leave, after all.

Mrs. Parkins glares at him. "Who are you?" she questions in that voice. "What are you doing here?"

He says nothing and passes her a piece of paper. Scowling, she ushers her into the room. People are perking up and looking at him as if they're in a daze. Okay, so he has good looks, big deal. I saw him first, he's mine. My friend.

...Unless they get to him first, of course.

Jordan passes by McAllen's desk. McAllen rises from his seat and introduces himself, shaking his hand. Jordan blinks and responds to the gesture, introducing himself as well. Jordan Sanders.

Now there's a crowd around him. I slump back in my chair, averting my gaze to the desk. He'll be popular, they'll get to him. Just like everyone else. I sigh, and I guess he hears it, for he looks my way and smiles. It's that same smile from last night, and I find myself smiling back.

It's still contagious.

Everyone's looking at where he's looking, and they get this disgusted look on their face as they look at me. What? I bathe, I shower, I brush my teeth. Why look at me like that?

He takes a step toward me.