Before I get started, I would like to say a few things.
First off, this is an original tragedy story by me.
The following prologue will contain: high school drama, violence, hints of adult language, and friendship themes (which comes with a few corny lines).
This prologue may or may not be edited in the future. Once I'm satisfied on a final version, I'll nominate it for Fan Words Publication.
Also, if you have any critique or comments, feel free to comment. It is very encouraged and welcome.
The Prologue “How We Met”
Nothing incredibly interesting ever happens at the library. Not ever. With this set in my logic, I walked inside the library's double doors while I was being held captive by a book. Using my peripheral, I navigated through the old shelves and tables, not paying attention to who is at what table. By default, my legs lead me to one of the tables in the back of the room. I began to prepare myself to look tough so that no one would, hopefully, disturb me. Unfortunately, I happened to sit down, with elongated groans of the old, wooden chair, at the table one of them was at.
He looked to be one of the most cliché ones, the ones that just wanted attention. His hair, wild and dyed black, was brushed over his right eye. His attire consisted of a black hoody, which was sleeveless, a striped black-and-white undershirt that went to his elbows, and studded, black bracelets that made things impossible to write comfortably. If that was not enough to support my deduction of his character, what shortly oozed out of his mouth did.
“Oh my god, this is retarded. I can't believe my teacher expects us to do this BS.” He said, dropping his mechanical pencil upon an open text book. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. Bored and frustrated groans ensued. “Don't they know what I'm going through? I can't do five essays in one week!”
That statement made me roll my eyes. I did not know why I was listening to him. Ridiculously, he went on with complaining and whining. I was not entirely sure what he was saying, as I was focused on reading my book. However, my focus faded and his complaining started to get on my nerves which brought me to say, “Hey, kid, you mind shutting up so other people who are actually trying for an education can succeed?”
I received some looks from nearby students in the library that were full of “Thank you!”'s.
“Oh, the teacher's favorite student, I assume. Listen, man, it's a lot harder when you live alone and the teacher doesn't take an immediate liking to you. So why don't you shut up?” He said, leaning back down in his chair, glaring at me with his one visible eye. At least he was somewhat literate.
“You are quite the one to make accusations. Let me assume that you are a lonely fake fishing for attention. If you were not such a poser, I am sure your teachers would not be so annoyed with you.” I said, glaring right back at him. Why was I stooping to his level? I knew it would only make things worse. I got a bookmark ready, I was sure I would not be able to finish it today.
“Excuse me?” He asked, standing up and attempted to be intimidating, but without both eyes piercing me, he did not succeed. “You want to start something?”
“I am not starting something. But if you are willing to, I will be happy to end it.” I said, standing up abruptly while closing my book. We were now standing across each other with only the three foot width of the table between us.
At this point, the other students, even the ones across the room, stopped what they were doing and gave their attention to us as they pretended to be absorbed in their studies. Do teenagers have some sort of a-fight-is-starting sense built in? I groaned inside, almost letting it escape my lips. I knew that if we did actually start fist-fighting that I would never hear the end of it. Until tomorrow, of course.
An annoyed look suddenly came across his face. Staring in his eye, I could see that he was aggravatingly contemplating whether he should start or not. Maybe he was not as impulsively retarded as I had thought.
I was rather disappointed as he leaned over the table and flung his right fist at my neck. However, I quickly swerved to my right before it reached me. I was rather amazed as he vaulted over the table to my left.
As we continued throwing punches and dodging simultaneously in some sort of frenzied dance, I could recognize his standard fight procedure and acknowledged how every move he made was executed almost perfectly and purposefully. He had a lot of fighting experience backing him. And as I got hit several times, I found out that he was more physically fit than I had originally imagined. Smiling, I began to respect him as being a dignified opponent.
I realized that one of the librarians would intervene soon, so I would have to quit analyzing and show off. Noticing his disuse of kicks, I guessed that his legs were his weak point. Using that mindset, I concentrated on making his knees buckle over. I began unloading many punches one after another to distract him and to possibly make an opening for his knees. He was very quick to maneuver away from them, but I managed to land one on his shoulder. Taken aback, he stumbled backwards a few steps, holding the inflicted shoulder and stared at me, surprised.
Taking this opportunity by its horns, I lurched after him and swung a well-placed kick right below his knees, making him fall back. Cunningly, I spun behind him and tightly wrapped my right arm around his neck, putting him into a sleeper hold. I was taller than him by about five inches, which gave me a good advantage.
At that point, the librarian had finished filing some paperwork in the small separate office, noticed what was going on due to the now large crowd growing around us, and rushed over to the scene. Before I was about to release him to kick him in the back, she shouted in that commanding tone that all well-trained teachers have, saying, “Ace Patton! Hallway, now!”
Letting go of Mr. Emotional and pushing him into the table, I swiped my book and made my way to the doors, saying, “Yes, ma'am.”
“You too!” She screeched at the dark-haired mess that was my assailant. Reluctantly and angrily, he grabbed his belongings and made his way to the hallway as well.
Adjusting my eyes to the dimly lighted hallway, I saw that there was only one bench, which was going to make things awkward. I sat down on the farthest end, immediately placing my folded arm on the bench's arm and placing my head in my palm. He sat down at the end closest to the door, folding his arms after he had carelessly threw his belongings on the side table. It was very quiet, and the tension in the atmosphere was starting to drive me nuts.
“Do not worry about getting into trouble. I have good ties with that librarian.” I said, trying to start a conversation. I certainly was not in the mood to finish my book.
“Hm.” Was all he said. He had no apparent emotion on his face and was not making any movements at all. He was looking out the window further down the hall, though I was pretty sure he was not paying attention to what was going on outside.
“You are pretty good at fighting.” I said. His eyes flickered towards me, so I went on with, “do you get into a lot of fights?”
It was silent for a moment as he turned his head slightly to look at me. “Yes, not intentionally though. I usually don't fight back, but my mom gets angry when I get banged up real bad.” He turned his head back to the window. “You're good, too. You get into many?”
“Yeah. But most of the time it is intentional. It might not seem like it, but I enjoy fighting.”
“I am sorry, by the way. You probably won't be able to finish those five essays now.”
“...It's alright. Like you said, I wasn't going to really try to anyway. I was exaggerating, too. It's only three essays. I don't do much at home other than play video games, so I could finish them at home with no problem.”
“So you ARE putting up an act.” I smiled. He made a sound that was partly a sigh and partly a groan.
“My parents are divorced and my mom's hardly ever home because she works two jobs to support me and her. I just... don't want her to worry, so I try my best to get friends.” He was staring at the floor now.
“Well, acting like some one you aren't is not going to get you anywhere.” Since that was a very overused phrase, I was not very surprised that he did not reply. “I mean, women aren't going to like you if you are even whinnier than they are.” Luckily, he did not take that too offensively and let out a chuckle-esque “Heh”. After a few minutes, I asked, “What is your name?”
“...Nate, Nate Cunningham.”
“I am Ace Patton. Nice to meet you.” I grabbed his hand from his side and shook it, then dropping it shortly after. “I'll tell you what, if you quit your acting and work harder towards your degree, I will be your friend so your mother won't worry.”
“Good, so it is settled. There's the bell. Let's meet up after school and we'll hang out.” Standing up, I grabbed my book and walked down the hallway.
Name: Nate Cunningham
Hair Color: Naturally dark red/burgandy; dyes it black
Eye Color: Brownish-orange
Clothing Style: Emo/punk (loves to wear expensive clothing)
Age: 15/going on 16
Weight: 142 lbs. (skinny yet has a medium athletic build)
Blood Type: O
Date of Birth: July 28th, 1993
Short Biography/Background Information: His single mother works graveyard shifts thus he barely sees her. His brother and sister (who he barely knows) lives with his divorced father (who he also barely knows). His parents divorced when he was three.
Personality: Generous, proud, passionate, powerful, loves attention, dramatic, and independent. Can be arrogant and boastful. He is very pessimistic and angsty around his mother, usually to cry out for help. However, his mother being very tired by the time she gets home, has no time. This causes stress and frustration between the two. Despite this, he helps his mother whenever he can.
Likes: Video games, LOTS of attention, ego strokes, getting his way, company, drawing, helping others.
Dislikes: Being alone, being criticized, studying, having to cook, awkward situations, having to be talkative, losing.
Favorite Types of Foods/Drinks: Anything simple to make and cheap. He usually eats at fast-food restaurants. He eats healthy, but when really down in the dumps, he eats a lot of Mexican and Thai food. He tries to avoid sweets when he can. He loves spicy food. He's a proud Mountain Dew and Pepsi products drinker. Hates Coke products.
Favorite Colors: White, turquoise, black, and purple.
Appearance: Coming Soon.
Name: Ace Patton
Hair color: Light brown
Eye color: Blue
Clothing style: Usually wears T-shirts, faded jeans, and sneakers. (Shops cheap)
Age: 15/Going on 16
Weight: 150 lbs. (Athletic build, but not overly muscular)
Blood Type: A
Date of Birth: April 7, 1993
Short Biography/Background Information: Lives alone with his older brother. His younger brother is deceased (suicide). His parents live in a different, far away city due to their occupation. After both Ace and his brother graduate, they would move to their parents' city.
Personality: Independent, intellectual, a leader, straightforward, passionate, and powerful. Can be arrogant and violent. Due to this, he and his brother verbal-fight often. In school, he is semi-popular. Once harm comes to either himself or his friends (even if he barely knows them), he will get very stubborn and cocky, which is the reason he often gets into fights. Despite his violent bouts, he is usually rational and somewhat wise. This usually promotes him to leader in a group of friends. He is often called “brother” or “bro” by this group.
Likes: Music, defending his friends, being correct in his deductions, doing things on his own, video games, reading, his friends' company.
Dislikes: Hypocrites, help from others, people disturbing him when he's reading, being alone.
Favorite types of food/drinks: He really likes sweets. His range of favorite foods is as wide as his music favorites. He likes trying different types of foods, except spicy and sour foods. He likes all types of soda (mostly fruit flavored) and hardly drinks water, thus being rather dehydrated. Dislikes lemon-based drinks.
Favorite Colors: Red, blue, black, gold.