to hepburnettes: thank you for being so inspiring + lovely.

9// first day of my life

          Walt is tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, waiting for Ana to be back with the solvent. They needed this part to be done soon, or else time would run out. He turns his head to search for her in the classroom.

          His glasses, the ones his parents forced him to wear until he gets new ones, made his eyes pop out. Walt was able to fix that with scotch tape, but his glasses were officially crooked. They failed to help him see properly, as he had to hold them most of the time to avoid their fall and eventually getting broken again. At times, Walt thinks that the only reason that Dave pisses him off is because of his abuse to glasses. They cost a fortune.

     Ana is on the other side of the room, laughing loudly to something Xavier says. She looks at him from under her eyelashes and if Walt was Xavier, his heart would combust. The solvent behind her is not nearly done. Xavier is the guy who broke Walt's leg, he remembers. He lifts his leg without mercy and kicked Walt's repeatedly, ignoring his cries to help.

     Walt glances at the clock and realizes less than 10 minutes are left to class. If he isn't done, the teacher will take off points. He gathers every ounce of courage and bravery in him and limps towards Ana.

     "Ana, we need to finish," he says, ignoring Xavier. Walt is shaking; the sight of his bullies always terrifies him. Being physically present with them a few inches away is an entirely different situation.

     Her eyes brush him away and she mumbles: "Okay, I'll get to it." She turns to the concoction and this strikes Xavier's nerves. If he has any.

     He glances towards the teacher's table and sees that he's out of class. "Can't you see I'm talking to her, dumbass?" He grabs one of Walter's crutches and hits him on the casted leg. Walt bites his lip to stop himself from groaning in pain.

     If I'm so dumb, then why did you ask me to do your English assignment? retorts Walt mentally.

     "S-sorry," says Walt. He stuttered. He hates it when he stutters, it makes him seem weaker than he already is; as if he's the nine year old boy with a speech impediment all over again. (His parents never knew that their little kid couldn't properly speak because he was terrified of school.)

    "You should be. Fuck off."

     "No, fuck YOU, Xavier! Don't tell him to do. Tell me, is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?"

    Xavier's eyes glower at Holly. Ana's mouth drops.

    "Bitch, if I were you, I wouldn't talk. Matt said you were bad in bed anyway—"

    "I'm better than he'll ever be, for your information. Don't bring your pathetic excuse of a friend Matt into this; this is about you being a complete dick to my friend. Apologize."

    "Okay, Holls. I'm sorry." says Xavier. A Cheshire smile gives Walt the creeps.

     The crutch he holds is swung like a baseball bat into Walt's unharmed leg so violently, the sound is ringing in Holly and Walt's ears. Ana gasps as Walt drops to the ground, clutching his leg. He's bent in an uncomfortable position; a leg in a cast and another hurting like hell isn't even close to being an eye-pleasing sight.

    Holly's temper is lost, she grabs Xavier's collar. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him. Or else I swear to God I will call the cops on you and tell them about your little grass business."

    The bell rings. Xavier throws the crutch to the ground and leaves. Ana asks Walt if he's okay, even though it is obvious she wants to go after Xavier and talk to him. Their classmates watch from afar; no one has the courage to face Xavier or any of his friends. They've learnt to deal with this, to pity Walt and wish to never be in his place.

    "I'm fine," says Walt through gritted teeth. "Go, Ana. I'm okay."

    As soon as the teacher approaches them, Ana struts away. Holly helps Walt stand on his two feet again. He is unsteady and can't stay balanced; his mind is ringing with the sound of the wood crashing with his leg.

    "Walt. Walt—look at me. You're okay. That son of a bitch is gone," she gives him his crutch and puts a hand on his shoulder as they walk out of the class.

     "Is he, really? They'll never be gone, all of them. Their job is to torture me for the rest of my high school life," shrugs Walt.

     Holly shakes her head feverishly, causing her hair to swish along. "Hell no. I'm going to get rid of them. You got me now."

     "Thanks, Holland. But even Superman can't save everyone all the time."

     "Watch me," she replies, a look of determination and fortitude settling in her hauntingly beautiful features.

     Holland Wood is my Superwoman friend, ponders Walt. The thought itself is enough to soothe the pain in his leg.

-

5 p.m. Chérie coffee shop.

     Holly slams her hands on the table, a crazy look in her eyes. Walt jumps a little and tries to hide it, but the hint of a smile on her face shows that she caught it. She takes out a broken pencil from her many pockets, flips over the menu and writes: MISSION W.A.T.T.A.B.L. (WALTER'S AMAZING TICKET TO A BULLY-FREE LIFE) 1. Look.

     "Look?" says Walt.

     She chews on a gum and blows a bubble. "Yes. Look. First of all, your whole nerdy look thing won't be working. You need to throw out any plaid that gets tucked in, any overly loose pants and please tell me you don't have suspenders?"

     "I don't," he frowns as if that is impossible. (He has two pairs at home.)

     "Throw out the suspenders, Walt," Holly gives him a strict look. She spits out her gum into a napkin and grabs Walt's smoothie, flips the straw and takes a long sip. "We're trying not to get you beat up, here."

      Walt is too busy marveling at the fact that none of her mahogany lipstick got on the straw to protest the theft of his drink. "What else is there?"

     "For now, that's it. I'll take care of your hair and all. It'll take three days to perfect the look, maybe four if we go past midnight. Tomorrow, I'll come over to take the unwanted clothes and sell them for a solid hundred bucks at a vintage store. My ex works there, let's just hope she does me a favor."

       "A hundred? That's too much."

      "Do you trust me?"

      With her lips around a straw, her sapphire eyes juggling too much knowledge and her fingers squeezing the straw tightly; she is the girl a mother wouldn't want near her kids. Walt lets out a breath and thinks of the times he has wondered what goes on in her mind. Someone as beautiful as her, what does she think? Yesterday she proved that she is somewhat heart-broken, what will she bring to the table today? Walt has never gotten the chance to step into her life, but now that he is here, there is a brewing excitement inside of him. This girl—she can bring him great things, but also horrible things.

      "No," he says. He sets his glasses back in place.

      She laughs, "good choice."

      "Holland?"

      Her smile evaporates. "Holly."

     "Holland, why are you helping me?"

     "Well, if you call me that god-forsaken name one more time I won't anymore," she pushes the drink away and looks at me in the eye. "Because I have nothing better to do. Actually, I do. But I think this could be fun."

       Walt flips the straw back and finishes the drink."Thank you."

      "Stop thanking me. And stop looking at me like you owe me your life."

      "I can't control my eyes, Holland."

      "Walter, you really should. If anyone comes in and sees you, they'll think you're in love with me or something."

      He starts coughing like his air circulation has been cut off. "W-what?"

      "You're too easy to mess with," she cackles. "Oh, Walt. This'll be fun."

For her, definitely. For him, debatable.