Chapter one commences! Remember, this is slightly based of Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu. The differences are a heck of a lot more obvious in this chapter than the first one.

So, as I hiked up High Street, my normal high school life was beginning rather… normal. Oh well, that’s what I wanted anyway. The heat of summer still clung to the September morning. It seemed the small social groups that still existed after Middle School had clustered together chatting aimlessly. It was rather annoying seeing as the only friends I really had from Middle School had all gone off to some private school. To top that off, the only social groups left where ones filled to the brim with people whom I found to be rather annoying. But whatever, I don’t really care anymore.

The large High School was quiet a visual wonder. It was brand new; they just finished construction last year to be exact. The glass walls of the entrance hall where the office was, and the large grand staircase up to the classrooms where quiet classy. The only thing that could be improved was, oh I don’t know… the air conditioning? After all, it felt like an inferno in the large Portland High School.

My home room was toward the back of the building, in the science wing. The teacher was some bombastic older man; I barely paid attention during his brief introduction. It was too warm in that room to pay attention to anything. All I really caught was that he was the physics teacher. After the teacher’s introduction, he handed out schedules and retreated into his office not to be seen again during that particular home room.

As I stared off into nothingness, what felt like the eraser of a mechanical pencil started to poke me in the back of the head. I figured I’d just ignore it. It worked with my little sister enough, so I thought it would work with her too. But the eraser continued to find its way toward the back of my head. It began to really annoy me. I decided that if I was poked again, I would go and turn around and scold who ever was behind me. Of course, like the pattern indicated, I was poked. It was my misfortune to turn at the exact moment that the student behind me sent her pencil flying at me again. So she poked me again, right in the eye.

If you’ve ever been poked in the eye with a mechanical pencil eraser, then you’ll know that it is quiet painful. After not being able to open my eye for about two minuets, I glared at the girl behind me. She was glaring straight at me. Her cold grey eyes seemed to claw into my face, and dig around. Her shoulder length red hair made her dull eyes stand out more, because the grey was seemed so calm against the sea of red hair. She tapped her pencil on the desk, apparently bored with striking me in the head.

“What was that about?”

I decided to ask her, but she just glared at me. There was about two minuets of silence until she turned her gaze off me and back out toward the parking lot outside the window. I shrugged, and turned back to face the front. As soon as I did so, however, she began poking me once more. Knowing better now, I decided against turning around. Home room was just about over, so I didn’t need to worry about it for much longer.

You’ve got to be kidding me…

That was about the only thought running through my head as I sat down in first block study hall. Now, why I have a study hall first thing in the morning is beyond me, but the thing that irked me most was sitting behind me was the red headed girl from homeroom. Why me? The next forty two minuets of getting poked with a mechanical pencil were not fun. I think I’m starting to get a head ache…

This has got to be some cruel practical joke. Where are the cameras? I have to be on some prank show or something. This is the third consecutive class with her. Last class I learned her name was Rebecca Davis, from the role call. Well, at least she stopped poking me during last class. Now, she found it more fun now to pull a strand of hair off my head every few minuets. As if my head hasn’t suffered enough for one day. No, she just has to keep pulling… and pulling… and pulling. GOD DAMN YOU STOP PULLING MY HAIR!!

Of course, I couldn’t come out and say anything like that in the middle of class. Freaking out like that is unlike me after all. I’ll just have to bear with these struggles for the time being. There’s no way that she could be in every class with me.

It’s official… God hates me.

I thought that to myself as I trudged down the large hill in front of Portland High. The heat only seemed to get worse as the day progressed, and it had to be at least ten degrees hotter than it was this morning.

But back to important things. God hates me. I don’t know what I did, but I must have done something wrong. Yes, you guessed it; Rebecca Davis was seated behind me in every single class today. EVERY SINGLE CLASS. There was no end to the torture. And in every class she did something to my head. Whether it poking, yanking, ripping, slapping, you name it, she did it…

She seemed to be a very twisted little girl.

I didn’t quite understand how such a cute girl could be so weird. Did she do that to everybody who sat in front of her throughout her whole life?

Yup, as I said before God hates me.

So, life went on. After that first day of school Rebecca Davis stopped paying any attention to my presence, and spent all day staring out the window. It almost seemed like she was watching TV or something like that. It was after that I started to notice her strange eccentricities.

For example, she would not let anyone call her by her first name. Every time someone, teachers included, would call her Rebecca or some sort of variant of that, she would scream at them and tell them her name was Davis. People managed to take a hint quick and started to call her Davis. Not that I understand why. Rebecca is a perfectly good name. But the red haired demon thinks the opposite.

Here at Portland High, the staff practically forced the students to do some kind of after school activity. But most of them where fun, I joined the jazz band myself. But this isn’t about me. Rebecca Davis blatantly refused, even though she hung out on campus till sunset. I heard from a friend in class that when someone asked her why she didn’t join a club she responded:

“They all sound shitty.”

Rebecca Davis also is partial to cursing randomly. If there’s a way to fit a swear into a sentence she’d do it. She also had a tendency toward violence, and a short temper. Basically, everyone in school began avoiding her like the plague. Lucky me, I get to sit in front of the school’s Satan. Whatever did I do to earn this honor?

In any event, this continued for a bout a week, and I was saved by the weekend. Hallelujah! Well it was, until I made a chilling discovery. My “best friend” happens to be my neighbor. Why… Why is fate so cruel? It seems I can never be free of this curse we call Rebecca Davis.

Monday came as quickly as Friday ended, and I was back in that stifling physics room listening to the physics teacher rant about NASA. For about two minuets, then he ran back into his office slamming the door. I was beginning to think he had some kind of air conditioner in there, damn him.

They say you can go delusional if you get to hot. Or something like that anyway. That day, I think I must’ve gone delusional.

“Why don’t you let anyone call you Rebecca?”

Yes, you guessed it. I asked Rebecca Davis a question. I don’t know what possessed me to say anything to this girl, but I did. It must be the heat rotting my brain or something. She turned and stared at me with her grey eyes for a minuet. She had a bandage on her cheek today. Had something happened? I’m not that close to her, so I’m not gonna ask.

“Cause it sounds better to me I guess.”

She actually answered me semi-sanely. I’m as surprised as you are. Of course, that doesn’t really sound like something she’d get so worked up over when someone didn’t call you ‘Davis’, but to each his, or her in this case, own.

“Really? Rebecca sounds good to me.”

“Well, nobody cares about you’re opinion.”

That was the kind of response I was expecting to begin with. But whatever I dropped it. It wasn’t that important anyway. After that, she went back to window-gazing like some kind of bored child. This conversation sparked a weird ritual between the two of us. Every morning after the teacher was done babbling we’d have one of these types of conversations. There was only one that, again in retrospect, was really important.

We where discussing why Rebecca Davis didn’t join a club.

“I don’t want something boring that I could’ve done in middle school.”

She was already off on a tangent. But when she wasn’t screaming, her voice was actually pleasant enough to listen to, if you didn’t pay attention to the words it was forming most of the time anyway.

“None of the clubs here are interesting. I want something interesting, damn it! Something out of this world!”

She raised her arms in the air to help make her point. Some people looked over at us because she raised her voice, but she sent them what looked like a death glare and they all went back about their own business. Note to self, don’t piss off Davis. I’m sure she would actually do something to back up a death glare.

“If only something like that existed.”

I still couldn’t believe we were actually having a conversation. It seemed we where way too different, but I guess that doesn’t changed the fact that here we where talking like sane people.

“Well, a club that interests you just hasn’t been created yet, I guess.”

After I made that comment, she shut up and went back to window gazing again. I should’ve known better than to say something like that. Me and my big mouth got me in past the point of no return.

Next time: Abnormality 2: Formation BFB

The Boredom Fighters Brigade Creed:

We solemnly swear to search to the ends of the earth

To find something that will interest

Our benevolent leader

The all mighty

Davis-sama!

… Why me?