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Jyro Rebellion One:White Jay's Flight chapter two



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Tue Nov 08, 2011 5:46 pm
FruityBickel says...



CHAPTER TWO


Next class was one of my favorites-gym. I loved to run, and had no trouble admitting I was good at it. I was fast and skinny, and could outrun almost anyone. I was one of the fastest runners at Day-Bright. That is, until Jay came along.
I watched him as we changed into our gym clothes in the boys' locker room. His torso was covered in bruises, raw red slap marks covering his lower back and whiplash marks covering the nape of his neck, his back and his stomach. Cuts and scars lined his arms from his elbows to his wrists. As though noticing my gaze, he quickly pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, using his hair to cover the back of his neck with a single flip. Not looking at me, he slammed his gym locker door shut and headed out to the gym. Confused, I followed.
We all sat cross-legged in a semi-circle around our gym coach, Ms. Russell. After she had explained what we were doing today-we were going to play a game of baseball, seeing as how it was such a nice day out-we got up and stretched. As Jay stretched his arms, the sleeves of his shirt fell down, revealing the cuts and bruises and something I didn't notice before-burn marks. He flushed, and quickly yanked his sleeves down as we were led outside.
Jay was first batter. He gripped the bat in his hands, a dead look in his eye as though he didn't care if he hit the ball or not. The pitcher, Jack McGee, smirked at him. Jack was the pitcher for our baseball team, and he was the best pitcher Day-Bright has had in the last ten years. Nobody ever hit his fast balls, nicknamed "The Blazer". Jack wound up his arm, and threw the ball with blinding speed. Jay raised the bat-there was a sharp cracking sound-
The ball went soaring back the opposite way, over the field in a home run. We all gaped in shock as Jay began sprinting, the dead look still in his eye, making it to first base in a minimal three seconds. Faster then I would have. As he slid onto the base, he flinched in pain, a small unheard cry escaping his lips. He clutched his ankle, seeming not able to stand. We all watched as he got to his feet, wincing, and hobbled off into the boys' locker room to change.
After the game, I followed him, watching as he rearranged things in his locker. He was stalling for some reason. "Your ankle seems fine to me." I said to him. He paused for a moment.
"I stretched the muscle." he said. "Nothing a little resting didn't fix."
"Mhm," my tone was scoffing. Then, curiosity got the best of me. "Hey, I gotta ask...where'd those bruises come from?"
He froze. "Uh...I get roughed up a lot." his tone gave it away as an obvious lie.
"Those cuts and burns?"
He didn't answer, slamming his locker door shut as though suddenly angry. "You should mind your own business." he mumbled, pulling on his jacket and heading to our next class, which was English.
"Did you do them to yourself?" I asked as we sat down, taking the seat next to him. His eyes flickered over me with disdain.
"Maybe," he mumbled under his breath.
"I didn't know you were emo." I said. His eyes flashed with anger.
"I'm not!" he snapped. I blinked, taken aback.

Jay

I shifted in my seat, my anger flaring up instantly when the other boy-I recognized him as Payne, the boy Jonathan had introduced me to a couple years back-sat down beside me almost like he was my friend as he called me "emo". I glared at him, eyes narrowed, snapping, "'I'm not!" in an offended tone. He blinked. "Sorry," he murmured as I began to sketch a rose in my sketchpad, adding shades and using different hues of black and grey to make it look metallic. I noticed Payne watching out of the corner of my eye and shut the sketchbook with a snap, clutching it protectively to my chest as I tugged at my sleeves to cover my wrists.
"And if those bruises come from you getting 'roughed up', who roughed you up?" Payne asked.
I gave a reluctant sigh. "I dunno. Some jock."
"At your old school?"
I shook my head.
"Funny, because there are no 'jocks' here at Day-Bright." Payne arched an eyebrow. "So maybe you got them from someone at home?"
"Don't make accusations if you don't have evidence to back it up." I said.
"I have evidence, and it just happens to cover your entire torso." Payne retorted. "Maybe even below that."
"Shut up!" I snapped without thinking. I didn't like how close he was getting to the truth.
He blinked at me. "Getting touchy, are we?" he said, arching an eyebrow.
"What's it matter to you? You don't even know me." I reminded him. He grew silent for a moment.
"Maybe I would like to know you." he said quietly, staring at the medallion around his neck and fiddling with it. I stared for a moment. The medallion was rectangular, a golden amber color with ancient symbols engraved into it in black. At the very center of it was a small ruby red gem. I glanced down at my own chest, where hung the exact same medallion except the center gem was jade. My mind began racing. How did Payne have that medallion? Only me and Jonathan had these kind of medallions, except the center gem of Jonathan's was black as night, swirled with white. Did that mean that Payne was one, too?
I went back to staring at Payne, noticing with a small smile that he was kind of cute and my mind drifting off the medallions to whether or not he really wanted to get to know me.
I said, "Fine. You want to get to know me? Better start asking questions."
"Where do you come from?"
"I was born in Italy. That's where my accent comes from. Raised there until I was age three, then my parents moved here to California." I told him.
"Who do you live with now, now that Jonathan's dead?" he asked.
My eyes narrowed. "He's not dead. He's missing. There's a difference. Besides, I live with his adopted brother Rios."
Payne thought for a moment. "So, what did ya do to get into Day-Bright?"
"I'm on suicide watch, and it's the only school in Maple County that can handle mentally unstable kids." I told him quietly, fiddling with my own medallion but made sure he didn't notice.
He arched an eyebrow at me. "Suicide watch. So you're...suicidal?"
"Very good!" I said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes at me.
"So I'm trying to become friends with a suicidal psyco-path?"
"That pretty much sums it up."
"Well, by the looks of it, you're a good drawer, anyway."
I blushed, clutching my sketchpad tighter to my chest. I usually didn't let people see my drawings, so praise was scarce. I felt my cheeks grew hot as I mumbled a thanks.
"I only speak the truth, man." Payne said with a grin, as a tan boy with shades on sat down next to him. I don't know why, but my eyes narrowed at the sight of the boy.
"Hey Den," Payne said, and they high-fived before fist-bumping each other. "This is Jay. Jay, this is Dennis."
Dennis nodded to me, but didn't say anything. I said, "What up with your eyes?"
Payne suddenly looked awkward. Dennis replied, "I'm vision impaired, stupid. I'm half-blind.”
I flushed. "Oh," I said. I noticed that Dennis’ arms were covered in tattoos of demons and dragons. Cool. I thought. He glanced me over, noticing my gaze. “What?” He snapped.
Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period and that it was time for lunch. We all gathered our things and stood, making our way to the cafeteria.
At lunch, Payne sat beside me, his plate full of Papa John’s Pizza. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of cooked food, taking a long sip from my steel watter bottle full of blood. A tic began working in my temple again and Payne glanced at me weirdly. I was suddenly bursting to apologize for it, my breath catching in my throat as the tic became more fierce and my eyebrow began to twitch.

Payne:

Jay’s eyebrow began to twitch, his face growing into an automatic grimace each time he did it. He seemed to be trying to fight it, but was unable to control as it happened constantly.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
He didn’t answer me, his eyebrow continuing to twitch over and over.
“Dude,” I shook him. “Why are you twitching?”
He twitched a couple more times before he released a giant breath with a rush of words-”I’m-sorry-it’s-something-I-can’t-control-I-don’t-know-why-I-do-it-but-I-just-do-it-at-random-times-again-I’m-sorry-it’s-because-I-have-Tourrete's.” He took a long drink from his water bottle, now out of breath.
I blinked. “Say what?”
“I have Tourette syndrome.” A tic started in his forehead again, working for a few seconds before disappearing again. “Tourette syndrome.”
“Isn’t that the one where the kid shouts at random words during class?”
“I do that, but just sometimes. Usually I just get tics and my eyebrow twitches.Twitches. Oh, and sometimes I repeat my own words.”
“For real?”
He nodded, taking another drink of his water. I noticed he didn’t have a plate, even though everybody jumped to get one when it was Papa John’s Pizza. I frowned at him, but felt uncomfortable to ask in case he had a condition or something. I watched the clock on the wall as the minutes-all 25 of them-ticked by in complete silence as we watched each other. The bell rung, signaling the sixth and final period, and I threw my tray away, following him to our next class-art.

In art, he payed rapt attention as the art teacher, Ms. Platte, droned on and on about optical illusion paintings. I noticed similar paintings laying open in his painting sketchbook, but he ignored my gaze as he focused all his attention on her.
“Frog.”
Everybody turned to stare at him, and he flushed a deep red before sliding down in his seat. “Er, sorry.” He murmured. “Impulse.”
“Aren’t you the new student with Tourette’s?” Ms. Platte asked him.
“Not everybody knew it until now, but yes. Until now.” His eyebrow twitched, his face breaking in a frown before turning passive again.
Ms. Platte sighed before turning back to her lecture. Just then, the bell rang yet again, and everybody rushed to get out of their seats and leave. Jay was one of them, in a more apparent rush than the others.


Rose:

I would get stuck next to the new kid. As he opened his locker carefully, I glanced him over and found that we were wearing matching skinny jeans. He was dressed in a Asking Alexandria T-shirt under his army green jacket, while I was dressed in a Black Veil Brides band tee. I grinned and said, “Hey, cool piercings.” I nodded to his studded cartilages and pierced eyebrows.
He glanced at me and smiled. “Right back at you.” He said, noting my tongue piercing and snakebites. I smiled at him.
“So you’re new here, right? Where are you from?” I asked as he began taking books out of his bag and putting them in my locker.
“A bit of everywhere. I’ve been all over California, mostly, because I bounce from foster home to foster home. School before here was Kennedy.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Kennedy? The correctional facility?”
He shrugged. “More like a hell hole if you ask me, but whatever you want to call it.”
“You seem like a good kid to me.”
“It was more because I’m legally insane.” He took a thick, dog eared sketchbook out of his leather messenger bag and carefully set it on the top shelf of his locker. I smiled as I watched him, until the final bell rang, signaling the end of school. “See you tomorrow.” Jay called as he ran from his locker down the hall in an apparent hurry.

Jay

I mumbled under my breath, throwing things in my book bag before slamming my locker door shut and sprinting down the hall. I ran as fast as I could, arriving at the mansion and jiggling my key into the lock just as the clock struck three. I cursed, swinging open the door to face my uncle, who stood there waiting with his arms crossed, foot tapping and leather whip in hand.
"You're late."
I didn't reply as I knelt before him on my knees.
"Remove your shirt."
I wordlessly did as I was told, peeling off my shirt and tensing my shoulders. He brought the whip slashing down, cracking it across my back. I bit back a cry of pain as he did it a second time, then a third and a fourth. I felt my back begin to bleed. A fifth time. A sixth. He kicked me in my stomach, sending me onto my back before whipping my mangled, blood-matted stomach and drawing new blood. Seven times. An eighth. Then a ninth. A cry of pain escaped my lips and he began beating me with his fists, striking my chest, shoulders, and basically my entire torso while kicking my head as well. I curled up, trying to defend myself, but he hit me so hard I was basically paralyzed with fear and pain. He kicked me against the wall, spilling blood everywhere before he said, "Chores. Now." and then he walked away. I shakily got to my feet and began to wipe up the blood with my tee, staining it on the white cotton.
Last edited by FruityBickel on Sat Dec 03, 2011 8:01 pm, edited 7 times in total.
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 1465
Reviews: 25
Thu Nov 17, 2011 5:19 am
Stargirl101 says...



How am I like the first person who has commented on this???!!! This is astounding!! It's a beautiful piece! I know I should stop using so many exclamation marks, but it is just so hard! Anyway, there were a minuscule amount of errors, but other than that, it was truly fantastic. Well done.
Presence is a curious thing. If you need to prove you’ve got it, probably never had it in the first place. It’s not an ostentatious, adolescent display. It should be something effortless. Somebody once said: ‘The whisper is louder than the shout.’ Well amen to that.
  








Life is about losing everything.
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