Bear in mind, writing of a 13-14 year old here. I was a terrible human being back then *shivers* my writing was atrocious, but I feel like's worsened over time. 

Media: "Bermuda Triangle" by Zico ft Crush and Dean.

"Wolfe?"

I opened my tired eyes. My brow furrowed. There was a ringing in my ears, annoying and a high pitched squeal. I squinted my eyes against the bright lights which flooded my vision. Something cold was under my cheek, yet my body heat didn't make it startling, but comfortable. Like sinking into cold sheets on a hot, humid, summer day.

"Wolfe? Mr. Wolfe, are you with us? Or do you need more time?" A nasally voice asked from my right. I cursed under my breath, before lifting my head up from the wooden desk.

You know that pissed off feeling you get when someone disturbs you from a nap? Not the rested feeling you get from a long night's sleep, nor the feeling of dejection when you wake up at 5 in the morning with only three hours of sleep.

I felt like that.

"Have you decided to be with us now, Mr. Wolfe?" I tediously looked up at the short, scowling teacher. Her glasses were perched on her bony nose, with her eyeglass retainers laying limp behind her neck.

I groaned inwardly. "Well, Mrs. Langton, I suppose I have no choice but to join the harsh reality of Calculus."

A couple of students in the class snickered at that. The old woman's cheeks reddened at the comment. "My office, after school, Cassel." She pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

I rolled my eyes at that. I had better things to do than listen to an old woman who can't even teach Trig right scold me for falling asleep.

"You have so much potential! You would have gotten into a good university if you had actually had good conduct! You understand the material, how I don't know since you don't come to class or spend your time not even paying attention, but why don't you try? I could've had your grandmother here at a moment's notice, if I wanted to. She's in my knitting club--"

I love my Grandmother, I really do, but she knows she can't control me and if I go to class or not.

"Well, since Cassel here decided to wake up and enter the harsh reality of, excuse me, the real world"-- real world, my ass, there was no relevance of hardcore Calc in the real world-- "let's turn to page 205 of the Module. Alison, tell me what is relationship between the mean value theorem and Rolles theorem..."

The twenty minutes of class went by like quicksand-- stuffy and not quick at all. I hunched over my Trig textbook, fingering the obsidian ring my grandfather had given me on my sixteenth birthday.

My back pocket vibrated. Making sure it was safe, I inched towards my back pocket, and take out my phone.

You're being watched.

Unknown number? I frowned. I had gotten these before, especially from the guys my dad used to work for, so this wasn't new.

No, seriously, you are. Trust me. They're there.

"Hey man!"

I blink multiple times before turning my gaze to the figure at my right. I bit my bottom lip, and hastily shoved the phone into my bag. A broad arm wrapped around a shoulder. A grinning blond faced me. "Dude, the bell rang like an hour ago. Why are you still here?"

I stared at the quarterback of our school's football team. Jake Crosby was the total opposite of me-- all American sports jock with a ton of friends and no trust issues at all. He could talk a mile a minute or be quiet and appreciate the silence I surround myself with.

When I'm not a sarcastic jerk that is.

"What do you want?" I asked lethargically. It's not that I didn't like the company, but my mind was still fixated on the unknown text.

Ignore it, my brain coaxed.

No don't, my subconscious retorted.

It might seem odd but I'm sure everyone wars with themselves at some point.

Jake grinned."Candice Koutsopoulos has a pool part--" I cut him off. I didn't like Candice at all that much. She was a flirt, alright, but she didn't seem to have ever known the definition of no. Annoying really, especially since she claims she's had the luxury of having world renowned tutors in her child hood. Too bad they didn't teach her that two letter word.

"Not my scene. Tell her I won't go, and to not send you to ask me again," I growled. Jake looked startled at my assumption of her puppeteering skills, but didn't deny it. I sighed, grabbed my bag and walked out without looking back.

"H-hey man," Jake stumbled over his feet to keep up with me. "Don't be like that. I mean, you know she's pretty hot and you don't like the attention she gives you, but maybe if you said yes, she'd back off!"

I turned a corner swarmed with confused freshmen. Even when it's June, they still walk around huddled like schools of fish needing the support to walk to the class next door, dropping off one fish in each designated room until there are no more. (ironic because i wrote this as a freshman in June)

Jake got lost in the crowd. I sighed in relief. Thank God.

"Hey, Cassel!" a shout came behind me.

Spoke too soon.

I dodged a petite brunette backing out of a weed-stinking janitors closest, and nearly stumbled into one of the perky sophomore cheerleaders. Rounding a corner, I frantically turned my head looking for an exit, only to hear another yell across the hallway.

"Cassel! Wait up!"

Without a falter I ran into the closest doorway.

I slammed the door, locking it with a flick, and leaned against the bookshelf next to me, keeping an eye on the small window facing the bland creme hallway walls.

I sighed when--

"Oh...yes, Oscar, pleas--"

I did not expect that. 

Stuttering an apology, I noisily raced back out, my toe hitting the door frame. There are only so many places one can hide in a wretched building where I could hide; but it should be noted that no matter where I hid, he would always find me. 

I rounded the corner-- after almost slamming into a mousy brunette-- my eyes greeted by the crimson walls that highlighted the art department's wing. 

"Hey Cassel? Wolfe?" the kid was back. 

I stumbled into a darkened corrider whose lights were probably knocked out by the overly hyped drama kids. My mind in overdrive, repeating the words, shit, shit, shit.

Of all the many places I had to be trapped in, it had to be the dead end of the school, with a wall featuring a bright clown with a Chelsea Smile, it's beady soul less eyes chipped away with blades, leaving crisscrossed scars. It held a bright yellow balloon, big and obscene. 

The clock that glared down at me was stopped at 12, forever frozen as noon or midnight. If only time were that simple, maybe if I could freeze it would I be able to make my way around the annoying whiny character who was chasing me down.

I cringed at the unmistakable squeak of rubber against white tiled floor making its way towards.

Please don't, please don't, please don't.

"Guess he's not here."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. As his footsteps grew softer and softer, I finally jumped out of my hiding spot, shaking out my clothes to be free of folds, before I left the art wing.

The rush of adrenaline that had surged though me disappeared. In my opinion, no one should run unless they're being chased-- and that happened a lot to me.

In Robert F. Kennedy Memorial High School, we got the fakes and the flattered, the nerds and the gangbangers, and then the so-called badasses.

And there were the shady bouncers in between, the ones who belonged to no particular squad, yet made it their business to know the dealings of all the others. Including mine, the lone wolf of the school.

I slowed my pace and took with a new direction-- the roof. It was probably the quietest place in the school. Most students get detention or even suspended if caught going to the roof, but the principal gave up on trying to discipline me the first month of freshman year. That was the year I had beaten up a junior who was making unwanted advances to a sophomore behind the annex building, in an alley not even a cat would stroll through.

"I'm so disappointed in you," Granddad said.

"Yeah but--" I hollered to defend myself.

He raised a hand to silence me. I instantly shut up. My grandfather was one of those rare people who I listened to and respected. He seemed to know everything and anything about the world. "I understand why you did it, though." He smiled. I stood up straighter, or as straight as I could get in my growing, lanky fifteen year old body. "That was a good job you did there, son. But you must face the consequences."

Consequences. They seemed to be everywhere. Curiosity killed the cat. Karma fights back. A rolling stone gathers no moss. Yada yada yada.

I pulled out my phone again, checking the texts. How odd. Where the hell did they get my number? Only two other people had it.

You're being watched.

No, seriously, you are. Trust me. They're there.

And a new addition.

Brace yourself, Cassel Wolfe.

I scratched my auburn hair. It was weird colour on a guy living in Waterloo, Iowa, where bright blondes and cheery brunettes were hailed from. And, like moths to a flame, I think it was the hair that attracted the unnecessary female attention.

I sighed and lay down on the gravel, feeling warms winds swirl around the rooftop, being the silent whispers which cause the heavy metal door to creak open. The sky was cloudless and bright, the kind of bright that makes you strain your eyes even though all you see is perpetual blue. I heard the roars and the cheers of the cheerleading squad from the football field where they were having impromptu meeting from the sounds of it, and the thud of the ball hitting the green floors of the tennis court on the other side of the school.

It seemed normal. It was normal.

But all of a sudden I felt the familiar sense of unease. The familiar sense of foreboding.

Breathing heavily, I leaped to my feet and swung down an arm to grab my bag.

Something's going to happen....but where?

My phone buzzed again.

Don't worry, you'll get help. Good luck.

What? It was as if the texter was here, watching me. Instantly, I felt my body become more aware to my surroundings.  I felt someones eyes on me. I paused.

You're being way too paranoid.

And you know what? I probably was. The prospect of having one of Jakes or Candice's cronies sneaking up on me and forcing me to comply with their demands of joining in on their stupid party was nothing beneath them. They've tried to do it before. And if the annoying fake emo kid hadn't given up his chase for me for some reason, well, there's another reason to remain paranoid.

I can never catch a break.

Regardless, the unknown texts coming from someone who's trying their best to piss me off was enough to convince me that maybe I should be more cautious.

With gentle steps, I walked through through the metal door, securing the lock to cover my trail from school authorities.

Oh God, here you are concerned about school, my subconscious scoffed.

Ignoring that, I jumped down the stairs taking two at a time. I heard nothing behind me, but I felt a presence behind me, gaining on me. My feet hit the ground with sharp thuds now. There was no time to stay conservative now. Adrenaline returned like a welcome friend as it pumped in my veins, yet all I felt was the need to flee. If I stopped and fought that would be more problems me and for my grandparents and besides, who would want to stay in school an hour longer to explain why you beat up some poor annoying kid?

I slowed, feeling bad just a little bit. But of course, my stupid ass was wrong.

"Wha--" Something yanked my arm, forcing me towards the right to the third story of the seven level building.