Chapter five

Chris sat on top of the reception desk, his legs crossed, “No comes here do they,” Chris said, his head circling round looking at the empty reception area. The pale cream walls, stained, and peeling. An old brown leaver soft that smelled of urine and dust pitched at the side next to a withering plant, it’s leaves turning grey, sagging forward to the floor, cobwebs weaved between it’s stems.

“Not really,” John answered, breathing out smoke. His back relaxing into his chair, his dark brown ruffles of hair crumpling at his sides, split apart in curtains, behind his ears. His eyes drooped down, as an easy smile spread on his lips.

“Won’t the sprinklers go off?” Chris asked absently, taking the rolled cigarette from John's fingers.

“Nah, I took the batteries out from the alarms.”

Chris laughed, a heart full laugh, struggling to breath, “that's funny.” he calmed down.

“I know,”

"Won't be when there's a fire of course. Still." He took another huff, breathing it out his nose. “So who’s your dealer?”

“Davie,” John said, he smiled, licking his lips.

“He’s selling?”

“He’s shit at it, but i buy my weed from him just to make him feel better.”

Chris sniggered, “I gotta hand it to you, I didn't even think you smoked.”

“Yeah well, i ain’t you or Matius,” his back fell onto his chair, as it spun side to side, “but i do partake in the occasional drug.”

Chris snorted, “this is why i hardly ever talked to you.”

“You used to draw on the desks," he recollected, a child-like grin on his face, "I remember, it was cool shit.” he took back the cigarette from Chris, after he took his turn. he changed the subject, "I can make circles, you know.” “Go on then.” Chris dared, scuffling forward.

John made an oh shaped with his mouth, then puffed out smoke like a chimney. Smoke made donuts floated in the air. Chris sniggered again, looking behind himself frowning slightly.

“Where is everyone?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” John pointed. “Are you going to Rogers Friday?”

“Nah, what's happening at Rogers.”

“Party apparently.”

“Rogers a twat though. No one will go” he laid down on the desk. “Have you ever blanked out, or have something happened with you with you hardly knowing?”

“No.”

“I was in my kitchen last night, then i was in the woods.”

“By the manor?” john asked,

“Where else dipshit."

John shrugged, taking another puff.

“anyways, it was strange, and my skin has been irritating me lately, I keep finding these see through flakes come off.”

“Maybe your reptile and it’s time to shed your skin.” he joked. “Lizard people." His mutter, "their the real deal."

“You're a retard.” Chris told him.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the clock tick.

“Don’t you have college today?” John questioned, throwing away the burnt out cigarette.

“Shit,” he mumbled, looking over to the clock, "my chemistry class starts in ten minutes." Fell off the desk, scrambling up from the ground, picking up his bag.

"It was nice seeing ya, Chris." John spoke, as Chris ran out from the building onto the street.

Chris ran all the way through the centre, passing the closing market, slipping past people, who wandered from stall to stall. He felt a lump grow in his through at pace he raced, his legs giving out, aching. Chris gritted his teeth, and ran, ran faster than he thought he could, he reached the college gates, holding out his hand for them, his arm flinging him further down the path approaching towards the science block. Chris breathed hard as he climbed the steps to the second floor, his lungs shrinking with every move he made. He swung open the door to his classroom, his hands rested on his thighs, as he winded in breath.

“Oh," Chris's chemistry teacher rounded, a unimpressed expression crowding his pale darkened brown face, but there was an uncertain look that passed through his eyes, as he looked at Chris's, he filled with disappointment as Chris closed his eyes concealing them away. His clear his throat fast, "Chris, looks like you made it just in-”

Chris held up a finger interrupting his teacher. “Sorry, i’m just having a-” he took a deep breath, “-really hard time breathing.” but Chris steadied himself, he would not have an attack.

“Well once you’ve catch your breath.” he chuckled a bit in a manner that made himself cringe with disgust. “You can sit and start observing and document the impacts of the different chemicals and bacteria on the various different substances. Whilst I beg my landlord not to evict me.” he cleared his throat, his lips pursing with a straight line. He turned away picking out his phone from his shoulder bag hung on the back of his chair, striding out of the lab.

Chris went to sit down near the back, an empty seat next to him, placing his rucksack on the stool. A microscope was perched next to him, and seven or more glass slides next to them along with bottles of chemicals.

"This is such bullshit," someone complains in the row in front, "we're doing shit we did in year seven."

Chris looked about seeing there to be a mix of people doing nothing and doing work. The guy began to complain more, something on the lines of failing that years exams, but Chris ignored him, connecting his earphones to his ears, and plugging them into his phone, it was a rare moment that he wished he had a playlist of some type of music, but instead played an audio book, his thumb pressing down on part one of the catcher in the rye. He listened peacefully as he got on with his task, placing slide after slide of different chemicals and substances, jotting down all the reactions into a hand drawn table, that was wonky and drawn in pen.

After a while his skin began to itch again, advancing throughout the expanse on his body. Chris started to scratch his arms violently, burning his arms with pain and numbing itches for their few seconds. Again as he scratched, small little transparent flakes peeled off, Chris saw how they shimmered, and decided to have a better look, as he stared down at his microscope, finally having the thought click in place. He placed a spec of the flakes onto a slide placing a cover slip over, he set the glass panels down below the microscopes, scope, and looked through, he increased the distance of flake, till he saw it clearly. That was he saw it, it was strange, it glimmered even when it was detained, it looked like skin, but it wasn't, and the pattern looked more like scales than anything. Chris couldn't help to think of what kohn had said, 'a reptile shedding it's skin,' he snorted at the thought, knowing it to be ridiculous. Yet a fear stayed with him at that, impaling a side of his rational mind. He carried on to stare at the flakes, people, light and time blurring into one another, till he heard people packing up. He lifted up his head, taking an earbud out, looking to his teachers desk it was empty, and Chris couldn't remember if he had come back or not. It didn't matter though, he snatched the slide of the flakes, shoving it in his pocket, swinging his bag on his shoulders, and leaving, shuffling out the classroom with the mass of students.

Hundreds were making their way through the gates, as Chris did, he turned away from stares, as groups began to regard his eyes, the looks made Chris shiver, and grew an anxious feeling in his stomach. He faced his head down frowning, his legs picking up in pace.

"'Ey," a voice spoke to him, his voice dull. Chris turned up his head seeing the strange boy from the day before, again wearing a blank face, as if nothing in the world could bring him amusement. His black hoodie hung on his body like an over sized coat, an interesting image printed on the hoodie, of a drawn dead rat. His jeans were large and baggy, ripped at the ends, to his clean white trainers.

"Hi," Chris replied in the same tone, his eyes boring into his.

"I saw you runnin'." he stated.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, never seen anything more pathetic." He leaned off the gate, "goin' 'ome?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah." they both looked at one another. It was awkward and strange, Chris began to move past Dalmir, wishing to go back to his comforting house, walking along the path. Dalmir followed behind trudging every step, his hands in his pockets.

"Why were you late?" He asked, calling up to him, speeding up his pace. An attempt at making conversation, though he didn't look all that interested.

"I was at the registry." Chris said looking to the front of himself. Dalmir didn’t answer, looking to his side at the lined up cramped houses.

"Wanna go to the pub?" Dalmir asked after a moment.

Chris shrugged, turning his gaze to Dalmir. "sure,"