What Lies Beneath Page #3

The undiscovered truth of Nicholas Anderson

• Fiction

								


Before I knew it, we were walking down the hallway past several different colored lockers, each with its own unique style. For Disney, change film ones to Lord of the Rings. "As you can see, the school allows us to decorate our lockers however we want," he explains. "Of course, until you paint a d*ck with Trump's face on it, then all talk of creativity is out the window," he mumbles in a low voice that I could barely hear.

Controlling my facial expression from contracting, I asked myself why anyone would think a school would allow such a thing. Before I could think any further, I heard him starting to speak again.

"By the way, you can call me Emmett." I looked at him, confused before processing his words.

"Nicholas."

"Oh, can I call you Nick or maybe Nicky?" he says, deep in thought.

How does someone just start giving nicknames to a person they just met? If I don't answer, I may regret it. "Nick is just fine."

"But Nicky is so much better," he whined.

In return, I gave him a pointed look. If I want a peaceful high school life, I believe I should distance myself from this guy. I could already feel the migraine starting.

After that, we silently walk toward the auditorium side by side.

Taking a quick glance at him, I realize he's actually good-looking with his slightly sharp jawline and well-defined face that still has a childlike touch to it. If I were into guys, I would have found him more appealing.

Just as I was about to look away, our eyes make contact. I quickly avert my gaze.

"Um, the auditorium is right at the end of the hall," he says, clearing his throat.

I look ahead only to see a larger, blue double door with one side open and a few students roaming outside, talking with their friends. I could tell it's going to be packed inside; no wonder the halls were so deserted.

"Emmett!" I hear someone shout out before a guy jumps on his back. "I'm going to kill you," he exclaims. "How could you, you little sh*t?"

I could feel chills run down my back. 'Relax, Nick, just relax,' I tell myself.

"Chill, bro," Emmett says with a calm look.

"How can I chill when my skin is like this?" the guy with black hair and orange skin screams out. 

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, trying to hold back the best I could.

"See, it looks good on you, Rick," he says, gesturing to me also laughing.

"I'm pretty sure that guy is laughing at him, like the several dozen people who saw him," a guy said, appearing on the other side of Emmett. He looks like the other guy without the orange skin. "How did you do it?" he questioned.

"I had some help, but I can't say from whom." With that, he starts trying to remove the guy from his back.

"I knew one of those F*ckers had something to do with this." The guy named Rick finally let go of Emmett, looking like he has a new target now. "Anyway, who are you?" he asked.

I could feel two pairs of bright, familiar blue eyes looking at me questioningly. Suddenly, I felt out of place.

Chapter 4

Before I could even consider answering, my phone began to vibrate. Seizing the opportunity to extract myself from the situation, I withdrew my phone from my jeans pocket, only to discover that it was my father calling me.

"I have to take this," I say, waving my phone at them. Without waiting for a reply, I walk away from them down the hallway to somewhere with fewer people.

Ensuring there isn't too much background noise, I answer the phone.

"What took so long, boy?" he hissed, not bothering with a greeting. "Unless you want to see what happens the next time you make me wait, you will pick up immediately."

"I'm sorry, sir," I weakly uttered.

"You'd better be." I could hear him let out a sigh. "Anyway, your sister caught some bug that seems to be going around. We called the school and notified them, but you will need to get her work and notes from the teachers."

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"Boy, do you think we can't take care of our own daughter? Just do as you're told." With those words, the phone call ended.

Why do I even bother asking? I let out a breath and turned around, only to see Emmett. Those guys hadn't left yet.

I headed towards them only to hear Emmett talking about me.

"Guys, I get that you don't like change, but he's a new kid. Plus, I have a feeling we will be great friends, so chill."

"Whatever," Rick says back, looking slightly annoyed and very bored.

As if sensing my presence, Emmett turns around with a broad smile. "You're back."

The other two also look my way, then the unorange guy introduces himself. "I'm Raymond, but you can call me Ray. This is Richa-"

Though Rick cut him off, "I'm Rick," he says, glaring at the other guy, "and perfectly capable of introducing myself."

"As you can see, we are twins. Of course, I'm the more civilized one," Ray finishes, giving a small smile. "By the way is everything good" he says pointing at my phone that I was clenching.

Relaxing my grip, "Mhh, yeah, my father just called to say my little sister is sick." 

"Hey, just like our siblings," Emmett excitedly lets out. We all give him odd looks. "I'm saying it's an odd coincidence."

"No, it's not. You idiot, your little brother just passed on his germs to our brother," Rick shoots back.

"Is she okay?" Ray asks with a hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah it just a bug my sure she will get better" 

"That's good," he says before looking toward the auditorium. "I think we should start heading in."

With his words, I look at the other students only to see them making their way inside. With that, we made our way inside.

Given the size of the double doors, I expected the interior to be spacious, and it certainly met my expectations; in fact, it's enormous. The stage is comparable in size to a concert stage, and the six rows of theater-style blue chairs seem endless as you look at them from the entrance. Even so, every seat was occupied all the way down to the stage.

"The lower level is already full," Rick says, annoyed.

"Let's go to the upper level; it's usually empty," Emmett states, already heading toward one of the stairs near us on our right.

I follow along, still shocked that a school auditorium looks like an opera house theater without the private balcony viewing rooms.

"I know it seems a bit overwhelming, but our school values the arts just as much as academics and sports. So, for those choosing to focus on studying theater, plays, musicals, or dancing-practically anything along the line of performing -this will be their home," Ray explains as we all sit down.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," Emmett squeaks out. "What is your main study focus? Is it academics, sports, or visual and performing arts? Since we have normal classes for half the day where we learn things to prepare us for the SATs, then for the rest of the day, we do our focus subject." As he says that, I feel very confused.

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