|The Ghosts of Roosevelt High
Author: KC Cooper PM
Mollie, Joe, Bob and Stella are sick and tired of being pushed around by the seniors. So what can they do? Make 'em squishie, freshman style!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 10 - Words: 17,766 - Reviews: 22 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 01-05-09 - Published: 02-25-08 - id: 2480418
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm not scared of high school. In fact, I'm not afraid of anything. Fearless, yeah, that's me. What I find amusing when all the adults ask you, "So, aren't you afraid to be starting high school? I remember my first day..." and then they monologe about their school days. It's so stupid. Why is starting high school such a big deal anyway?
I walked through the big wooden doors near the parking lot. The sounds overwhelmed me.
"So then I'm like, whatever, and Chelsea said,"
"Oh. My. God. Look at her sweater! Isn't it, like, the nastiest thing,"
"Yo, D! What up, home skillet?"
"Party at Justin's after practice!"
All of the freshmen had supposedly came from Wilson, the local middle school. Strangely enough, I had yet to see a familiar face. The mass of humanity that was the student body swelled like the waves of an endless ocean around me, and the flurescent lights showed me who forgot to put on coverup that morning. Perhaps I could bide my time counting all the shiny noses and forheads while I looked for my friends.
"Hey! Mollie! Over here!"
The shout made me jump. Rather than the hostile force I had been expecting (okay, so I watch WAY to much T.V...) I looked up to see the face of my spaz cousin Stella.
Stella and I are second cousins, mom's side. I've got a HUGE extended family. Odds were that I would end up in school with a few of them. Most of our family is in a huge fight over the contents of my Grandparent's will. Unlike most battles, all the fighting is done in secret. Like, someone would "forget" to invite you to the annual Christmas party and buy Grandma a lavish, ridiculously expensive gift. Every Christmas it was like a competition to see who could shell out the most cash trying to impress the wonderful hoarders of money (aka Grandma and Grandpa). Stella's mom, my cousin Jamie, is mortal enimies with my mom over some stupid thing back from way before I was born. Despite all the chaos and carnage around us, Stella and I have managed to stay on pretty good terms. In fact, Stella is one of my best friends.
Stella is crazy. Get into your head the best image of a mental patient that you can, then stuff it into the body of a migit, red-haired-green eyed-hyperactive 14 year old. That's Stella. She once ate an entire box of Paczkis just to prove she could. Do you know how many calories are in those? 600 in each Paczki. A box has 12 in them. She then proceded to wash down the Packzis with two gallons of apple juice. I'm pretty sure she threw up after that. I don't know for sure, but I'm almost certain that I heard retching noises from inside that bathroom, though she'd never admit that she did. Pride is a funny thing, you know?
I shoved my way through the crowd ignoring the screams of "Fucking freshmen!", "Get out of my way, bitch!" or, my personal favorite, "Like, omigod, what's your problem?" and took refuge in the tiny alcove Stella was huddling in.
"Morning!" Stella chirped brightly. Yeah, you read that right. Chirped. Like a bird. I'll tell you about Stella and birds later.
"Morning." I grumbled. Mornings and I don't agree. I think I might even be allergic to mornings. If I said I was, do you think they would let me cut my morning classes? Hey, I'm allowed to dream.
"Hey, have you seen Joe or Bob or anyone anywhere's around here?" Stella asked. Joe and Bob are our other two best friends.
"Nope. You're the first person I recognise." I replied. "Have you gotten a schedual yet?"
"Negatory, Captain." Stella grinned. I groaned inwardly. No more Sky Captain quotes. Sky Captain and the World of Tommarow is Stella's favorite movie. She quotes it at any avaliable opportunity, and will never shut up about it. I think she does it on purpose just to annoy everyone.
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. I know that I'm fighting a loosing battle, but it's worth a shot.
Stella opened her mouth to voice what I suspected was a very articulate response, but was cut off by a long BEEP!
"Quick, take cover!" Stella shouted over the BEEP! and pulled me farther into the alcove. As soon as the beeping stopped, I noticed why. The afforementioned mass of humanity was hurrying off in every direction, while somehow simultaniously talking louder than before. If Stella hadn't pulled me out of the line of fire I would have been pummeled by the people. We held our breaths and huddled, trying to igore the "Dude, what have you morons been smoking?" stares from upperclassmen passerby. After a minute, the hall was almost empty.
Stella shoved me off her and dusted her worn brown leather jacket. It looks like a pilot's jacket, and is startlingly similar to the one sported by Jude Law in Sky Captain. I believe she bought it some time ago from Burlington Coat Factory.
"Where do you think everyone was going?" I asked.
"Well, I'm no expert and this is just a guess, but how about first hour?" she quipped sarcastically.
"If scheduals haven't been passed out, then how do they know where first hour is?" I pointed out the obvious hole in her logic.
"Uh, maybe they are psycic?" she squinched up her face and scratched her head.
"Thanks for the insight. Maybe we should ask them how they do it. I wanna be psycic too." I pretended to pout. Stella laughed. She is easily amused.
A funny clanging sound came from above. Perhaps a sign from the divine we should get to class?
"What's that mean? Are we late?" I asked, looking around for a teacher to ask.
"Beats me." Stella shrugged.
"Maybe if we try the office?" I sugest. "They can give us a copy of the schedual."
"HEY GUYS! WHAT'S UP!" Stella yells down the hallway, oblivious to the fact there are open classroom doors nearby.
"Shut up!" I hiss and smack her on the arm. I miss, for she is already sprinting full clip down the hall toward two faraway figures that look suspicously like Joe and Bob. I look both ways for hallmonitors/teachers/large animals before speed walking after her.
By the time I catch up they have already exchanged greetings and are chatting happily about nothing at all.
"Hey Joe, Bob. What's up?" I whisper.
"Why are we whispering?" Bob whispers back. Bob is a tall, brown haired, brown-eyed, meathead who would hang out with his fellow football jocks if he were more popular, and less freshman-ish. Oooh...freshman-ish. New word!
"Class is in session." I whisper.
"No it's not. The bell hasn't rung yet." Joe whispers. Joe is a bespeckled, hedgehog-haired, midget genius. He's a walking encyclopedia, and to tell you the truth, sometimes Joe's brain scares me.
"Never mind. Now it has." Joe says, resuming normal volume.
"Great. Late for class and we don't even have a schedual. Now what?" I groan.
"Penguins!" Stella shouts randomly. Two doors close simultaniously down the hall. Stella giggles in victory.
"Have you contracted Tourett's?" Joe asks.
"Tourett's, is that a band?" Stella asks, straight face included.
Bob smacks his head.
"You know, I'm suprised that I'm not embarassed to be seen in public with you." he says.
"Really? Suprising enough considering I'm mortified by you." Stella grins.
Oh boy. This is going to be a lllooonnnggg day...