Author: Militus PM
Just me ranting about my problems in life... Well, *problem*. See if you can guess what it is. T for language. Pillowbook.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,257 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 07-08-12 - Published: 05-24-12 - id: 3025452
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I was sitting at my lunch table, talking about the approaching French final.
"I'm going to fail that so badly." I said, moaning. "Nah, you'll get it." Gabby said, chewing on a fry. "Gabby," I said, exasperated, "My average is a 66."
"That's not that bad," Ellen said from my left, "Ieba has like, a twenty in my class."
I didn't think that Alesandro Ieba was a good standard to go by in grades, but it did make me feel a little better. I hated French, but mom and dad were insisting and I had to stick with it. Ogemdi, one of my friends in another district, was in eighth grade and spoke fluent French. That was only because one of his moms (A/N: That wasn't a typo) was French though…
"Maybe I'll get him to teach me." I said after explaining to my friends. Actually, it was like, a really bad idea in terms of actual learning, but Ogemdi was a lot of fun to be around.
My thoughts were interrupted by Ellen, "Did you say moms?"
I nodded, knowing where this was going and feeling anger start to burn in me.
"As in like, he's adopted, or they're just lesbo?"
"They're together, yeah." I said, refusing to use the word 'lesbo'.
Ellen made a face and with that, I cracked. "You got a problem with that?" Which was a pointless question because I knew that she did.
She smiled, "Well it's just… lugh." She said, making another face.
I slammed my hand down on the table "You are such a homophobe!" I shouted, "I don't get it! What's your deal? What is your problem with homos?"
I would later congratulate myself on shouting at Ellen, but it was doing me little good. I could see straight through that smile of hers and see the question in her eyes, 'why do you care?'
I dropped it, my anger settling back down. I could see Gabby staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I stared at my hands. I'd tried, but you can't change someone like Ellen. At least I couldn't. Apparently her family could.
The next day, I tried skipping lunch. I stayed in the bathroom, hanging out, when near the end of the period, I was caught by a lunch monitor and shoved into the small café.
I looked around. Ellen wasn't here. I tried not to be too happy about that, because it could've meant that she finally killed herself, but I couldn't really be sad about it. I sat down and made up some lie about science extra help.
They bought it; they didn't think I was the skipping type. Hell, I didn't think I was the skipping type. But things had changed this year. Maybe- by a miracle- one of them, before the year's end, could be Ellen.
A/N: Anyone think they know? (Sam, you don't count.)