5. Chapter 4
It’s Monday and to be honest I am unlike everyone else in this world. I love Mondays. I love walking in through the school doors every day, and I hate going home at night. I hate Fridays and I especially hate last day of term. And it is all because I don’t want to stay in the same house as my parents. But I don’t let anyone know that.
I walk in through the doors and have a crowd of people around me in an instant. I might sound like an attention seeker but I love it! I love how people want to talk to me and ask me how my weekend was. I love that people actually notice me and want to know about me. I probably love it because of the way my parents are, but I don’t care, I still love it!
I don’t have a best mate as such and I don’t hang around with just one person always. The people I hang with change daily. I hate it being this way. I want that one person who I can call my best mate. Who I can trust and tell them everything. So I can tell them about my mum and dad. So I don’t have to keep it to myself. So I don’t feel like I need to scream at the top of my lungs when someone says something about their own family. I don’t have any family. They’re all dead, and my parents might as well be dead to me!
But anyway back to Monday. I get up and do my hair in its usual style of being combed over. All the girls love it so I always wear it this way. I iron my uniform and put it on. I take pride in my appearance, someone will point out that I look scruffy if I have a single hair out of place on my head or a crease in my shirt. I can’t let that happen. Every morning before I go to school, I tidy the house. Hoping that today will be the day that they notice. Notice that they have a son, a son who is screaming for their attention. Notice that I’m not a piece of rubbish that doesn’t need to be interacted with. After I tidy the house I set off to school with a smile on my face that hides thousands of tears that want to fall because my biggest dream still hasn’t come true. My parents still don’t acknowledge my existence. I trudge to school dreading three ‘o’ clock when I have to make this journey back to my house, where I won’t be greeted with a loving smile and the question ‘How was your day at school honey?’. But still a boy can dream. Right?