The Lonely Ones

ONELY

RM

act with anyone. It might be pretty simpl

eird long minute, I found peace just staring into his sun-like eyes. A strange kind of peace by just staring at this

o are you?" Mrs

ng. God, who am I kidding? He's good looking, with this bad boy kind of look, and with this aura that ju

lass?" Mrs. Fatima inquires furthe

d he's staring at my midd

his class. I'm new." He says. His voice sounds

easily lull me to slee

am I doing? When did I st

s, but it's obvious you're new, so I'll let th

nd sits down on the seat behind mine. There are about three vacant seats at the

I was sketching earlier and open a new page in my sketchbook to sketch so

itself in my brain and I just let my hand work the pencil. For a brief second, I feel P

the

just imagin

d take a quick glance at his beautiful amber eyes, but I don't. I just chew on my lips,

inside my bag, including my sketchbook. Students begin to walk out of the classroom and I follow suit, not before

class as I grab my math textbook. I've always loved Math, I'm pretty good at it, and the teac

mine as he opens it. I look away, hurrying down the opposite direction of the new boy towards my math class w

ow I should stay away, I want to stay away, but something is just stopping me. A part of m

be the first person that fascinated me to this extent. Why does it have to be him? M

ght exp

ketch is something I can't recognize yet, but I won't stop drawing. Drawing or painting things is one of the easiest ways to drown myself. It makes me forget the nightmare I'm living in. It makes me forget I'm hurting and I'm

So I never really get the time to go places I want to visit. Like the beach. In movies, the beach is the place people go to, to just get away from everything. The quiet

from where I'm sitting. Despite his rich boy look, Phoenix still has that rough exterior that just screams bad. He's bad. I know I suck at reading people, but Phoe

lly understanding. She didn't give up on me when sometimes I'd just ignored her when she wanted to have a conversation. It's not like I ignored her on purpose, I just didn't know how to talk to people, an

and attention to the back page of my book. I pause my pencil on my book and stare at the small sketch I've managed to draw. The image is yet to make sense

e. But I know it has some

it's pretty loud and it seems as

tention he gets from girls. For a second, I envied him. He's good looking. He's attractive. He has the attention. He's probably rich too with his life ahead

s. Someone who's got freedom. I've even secretly imagined myself being in a relationship with someone. Each time I think about it, it's just not as perfect as I imagined it to be. I

yes as I try to shut out the

ou're, like, super

o talk to me. I don't even think my classmates are aware I exist. I'm just this guy in the crowd that nobody sees

nder his voice, and it sounds like he's not pleased to be

end and I would like you to come." A v

wn sketch. From my peripheral vision, the blonde who introduced her

u should call me and let's talk

dly leaves, including the other girls

nue sketching again, taking my time to draw out the image in my head. A few minutes later, Mr. Scott walks into his classroom. He

a second or a minute. But then, as the teaching goes on, I start to become uncomfortable at his not-so-subtle observations. His eyes bore into my skin, making me

Also, I'm not the most good looking teen out there. In fact, I don't consider myself good looking or attractive. I barely even

makeup, no one will really notice. Well, except Melissa, and maybe Mr. Brian, my Biology teacher. I'm an invi

ss and anxiety stops me from bothering to stare at this mysterious new boy. When Mr. Scott's class ends, I quickly stand up,