Stones To Abbigale Remastered: Chapter 1 (WIP)

I will be updating this chapter as I go and edit the title to "complete" when it's been finished.

I sighed as I instinctively hit my alarm clock, it giving a few short rings a couple of seconds before I smacked it. My days tend to start the same. I lie in bed and overthink because, heck, what teenager doesn't have periods of wondering what the hell life is. “I don't really get other people,” is something probably every kid thinks. Not fitting in seems part of the course for growing up if any movie or TV show reflects anything real, but it really sucks having to live it. I've never really been good at any of the more popular interests other 16 year old boys are: I couldn't aim a soccer ball into a net even if my life depended on it and I can skate but trying to juggle a hockey stick at the same time looks a lot trickier than its worth. I'm not exactly tall enough to play basketball which is embarrassing to admit, like I'm a damn runt or something. I'm far better at quieter activities, drawing or video games... however I won't pretend it's not lonely. Being in a team looks like a lot of fun: your friends cheering you on, celebrating your wins and taking your losses knowing you worked together as best you could.   
 I mean, things weren't all too bad. I would get to see my friend Davis who I got on with amazingly, so who really needs a whole group of them, and I would get to see... never mind. I cut that though off before it even began and flung my legs out of bed. 

Mom was already setting breakfast on the table by the time I'd dressed and made my way to the kitchen. She beamed at me as she laid out my waffles before me.   “Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?” My mom was wonderful. I can't recall a day she didn't greet me with a smile. Some things about life, even if I had no clue where it was going, were consistent. I nodded sleepily. “Yeah, it was okay. Still waking up, I guess.”   “You want a coffee?” I grimaced a little. I've never liked its bitter smell: it's always been seen as 'grown up drink' that I should come round to liking, but maybe I'm not mature enough to enjoy strong caffeine yet. “No thanks, mom. I'm good with juice.” She laughed a little and smoothed her hair as she waited for the kettle to boil, playing with the ends a little. It looked shorter. “Have you had a hair cut?” “Yeah, I thought a bob would be a change... you don't like it?” I waved my hands to signal the opposite. “No, no, it's nice, it suits you” I paused before asking what I had already suspected. “Are you seeing that guy again?” She gave a shy smile, like she herself was a teenager again. “This weekend we might grab some drinks. Your sister will be here and I'll leave some cash for takeout. You okay with that?” Mouth full of waffle, I nodded. Mom hadn't dated in years and it was good to see her happy and confident, changing her hair up and getting a couple of new outfits. On the other hand, I'll admit I did find the idea of a dad figure that I'd never really had intimidating. It would be a whole new situation, one I don't even know if I'm ready for or not. 

I finished breakfast as I entertained the thought and glanced up at the clock. Shit. I was late. I must have been overthinking for longer than I intended. Mom had already left for work mid-meal. Well, nothing else for it. I tore a page out of one of her note books and wrote the worst forged 'reason for tardiness' note any student has ever made. I couldn't risk a detention. Davis wanted me to come with him to some comic book store on Saturday and a morning in school to repent for turning up at 9.30 wouldn't get the day of to a great start. I grabbed my backpack which already had all my textbooks stuffed in it from the day before and rushed out the door.

Of course, Mr Hanson wasn't pleased to see a wheezing student bursting into his class halfway through the period, note or no note. I wasn't kidding when I said I'm not cut out for sports. A dash over the playground had left me panting like an elderly pensioner. He frowned and waved a hand at my desk.   “Please, James, we were bracing ourselves for your arrival. How kind of you to show up.” Why are some teachers so sarcastic? I sheepishly shuffled over to my desk, head remaining down and plonked myself in my seat, remaining silent for the rest of the class. It was Math, something I can get with even if the rest of the hour stretched on like it was forever. Mr Hanson thankfully didn't seem too much in the mood to have me spend my Saturday morning with him and promptly signed me up for litter duty during my free period. Hardy glamorous but a prospect I could more easily accept.    

The bell rang and alongside the rest of my class, I made my way to the next period. I secretly thanked whatever powers that be that it wasn't PE because after my morning sprint, I was pretty sure I'd be sent home wearing an oxygen mask. Or another scenario equally as dramatic that I could whip up in my head as I made my way to the art block. Two older students were squaring up outside the door and I only just managed to squeeze past unscathed as one levelled a hearty swing at the other. High school is a jungle, I swear. You look at the wrong guy in the wrong way and boom – pummelled. I never really got it myself, or any other weird, impulsive things guys my age did. Maybe having a dad figure around would be helpful after all.   

This time I actually was able to hang up my jacket in the cloak room rather than shoving it under my desk after I made a flying entrance. I heard someone approach from behind and turned to see Abbi hanging her coat up. Abbi. My thought that was cut off earlier. She's always been a really sweet girl, someone who really listens when you talk. She always wears band to push her fair hair away from her face so you can really see her instead of hiding behind bangs. Something I have to do in case I start blushing like a.. well, a smitten teenager, I guess. It's dumb, right? To have a crush on someone you don't really know. And I mean like, know, know. We've worked on some art projects together and chatted during class but apart from that, I haven't managed to spend much time with her. And the dumbest part? She has a boyfriend. Seth. He's one of the jock types and I never really got why she liked him. Sure, he's good looking, a great player and popular, but what they had in common was lost on me. Not like I'm some great catch or anything but does he care about her photography, her prints? I had to fight the urge to shrug in response to my train of thought. Like I said. High school life is weird that way.