A/n: hey everybody! ^^ I don't want to waist your time with my rambling,
just wanted to remind you that review=smile, so make someone happy, r&r
plz~! Flames appreciated just as much as reviews. Lots of chapters are
already done, so I'll post a new one as soon as I get a reviewer.
~TD Disclaimer: its all MINE! And fictional, this is not an autobiography.
September Sucks (ch1)
Tuesday, August 28th 2003, I write at the top of my paper in my best cursive writing. Pleased to have distracted myself for a few seconds I put the pen back down on the desk and set my expression to "silently interested" mode. This is the basic way a student avoids a teacher's wrath, look conscious and follow her with your gaze, after having perfected the technique over your first year of high school, you can set it on and off allowing your mind time to roam free as your subconscious takes full control of your exterior. I'm sitting in the third row, as always, that's what happens when your last name starts with Q.
As I'm just about to start a caricature of my fat overly cheerful teacher at the top of my page, Katrina, sitting at my left reaches over and drops a crumpled piece of paper onto my desk. I inwardly groan and glancing up at the woman who is now reading her teacher's manual aloud I look down at the paper. I turn it over not finding a name; I turn to Katrina and whisper:
"-To?"
The Russian girl gives me one of those looks meaning that my question was the most obvious thing in the world such as " How old am I?" and points at me. I blink confused.
"-Me?
She nods and goes back to the trashy romance novel open on her desk. I decide to stop the conversation and uncrumple the paper. In sloppy handwriting, with black marker the note reads "Nice Hair" I stare at it even more confused and brush my hand through my long dirty-blond hair, my hand stops at the almost tip in the back, finding a sticky wet substance there. I take the strand over to the front to find a disgusting pink wad of gum.
I take scissors from my pencil case and reluctantly cut the bottom of the strand off, it starts early this year, second day of school, well I should have known considering I ended up in a class full of self-absorbed morons who's one goal in life is to make mine a living hell, maybe I should be grateful for the attention, note my sarcasm if you will. I stick the gum onto a piece of paper and look around the class. A group of 4 guys sitting at the last row, being a row down from me are having a loud conversation and bursting into laughter every few seconds which the teacher doesn't seem to want to pay attention to. 3 of them are chewing bubblegum, the leader of the group, Miguel, is taking a new one out of a package of watermelon flavored Hubba Bubba.
He has black hair that he wears in an unfashionable mushroom cut, but it suits him so well I couldn't imagine him spiking it like all the other guys. He's muscled and is wearing a black shirt with "The Ataris" printed across the front in red letters. He has dark brown eyes that have a slight green gleam in them. Believe me, if I took every celebrity on Katrina's agenda and took each of their best feature, then cloned it into a guy, they wouldn't come close to this guy, he is the direct definition of Hot. Too bad he knows it.
'Melissa" I hear the teacher's cheery voice. I spin around from gaping at Miguel and look at her.
-Huh? I utter stupidly, how bright, I inwardly scold myself. I stare at her and look around hoping someone will drop the answer but the class has fallen into an unusual silence, which in this case means they're all waiting for me to say something really moronic.
-I asked you what you got for number 7dear, Miss Quiz tries to help. I stare down at my blank paper.
-Uh.what was the question? I ask. I hear giggles and theories on my intelligence level fly across the class.
Miss Quiz turns away from me and chooses Julia instead, who obviously gives her the right answer than flashes me a smile meaning once more that it was extremely easy and that I must completely lack gray matter in my feeble mind. I shrug it off and blow my bangs out of my face; stupid fringe. history lasts another long half an hour before my favorite sound in the world fills the school, the sound of the end of class bell. Grade 10 always seemed a million years away but now that its here its just like every other year. My horoscope says it's a good time to start new relationships and to buy a new refrigerator.
I watch the class slowly empty leaving only Steven, a nerdy plump black boy sitting in the second row reading a brick of a book, and me. Happy to have the homeroom to myself at least for 5 minutes I get up and walk over to the window and not so gracefully get up onto the large windowsill. The smell of the apple tree in full bloom 3 floors down welcomes me as I breathe in the fresh air. Our school is the size of an apartment building, if every apartment were a classroom, only 200 students, about 35 a grade, making my class of 19 people one of the biggest. Unfortunately, my best and only friend is in the other class of 20, so here I am, on the second day of school, sitting on a windowsill trying to figure out a sure fire way of survival. As the next class draws nearer the room begins to fill once again and I'm forced to leave my perch and make my way back to my seat.
A fat bald man with glasses wearing jeens and a white t-shirt walks in and informs us of the French teacher's absence, the class around me cheers and I inwardly thank a god I don't believe in. I loath French class, if M. Declarer would let us out of it at least once without 3 pages worth of SA I might not hate it so much and that was last year, I hate to see what he does now that we're a whole year closer to paradise. I spend the class observing my surroundings, listening to conversations that don't concern me with great interest and doodling on my binder.
"I heard there's a new kid coming today" Amber was telling Mark who she 's had a crush on for 2 years. They sit right in front of me in the 2nd row. I've often caught Amber dreamily staring at him during classes and writing his name in hearts on her desk.
"Where'd you hear that?" Mark asks with mild interest.
"Well Caro saw him in front of the principle's office this morning she said he's really-, she cleared her throat and interrupted herself, I mean she says she heard the principle say he's coming to our class."
Lynn, a curly red haired girl from the first row turned around and leaned her chair back to join the conversation. "I heard he just got out of juvenile hall" she said sounding overly dramatic.
If she were talking to me, I would have rolled my eyes, unfortunately for me, my communication tactics will stay as secret as the reason I don't openly use them is to me. A knock on the class door distracts us all and everyone turns their short attention span towards the front of the room. The fat man walks to the door and opens it, poking his head out into the corridor. He receives a pink slip from whoever is out there and reads it while rubbing his chin where I think he wishes he had a beard.
The volume in the room racks up to maximum as everyone eagerly exchanges suppositions and rumors about the new kid who is obviously innocently standing outside the class waiting for the stupid substitute to let him in. I start imagining what he might look like, first I picture an ugly brace- faced, pimpled teenager like the ones working at McDonalds, than I picture a muscular black guy with a basketball jersey and a large lower lip that gives guys a constant puppy look than I turn and look at Migel who is now poking Elisabeth with his pen and I figure he's writing something obscene and hilarious on her neck, yes, that's what he'll probably look like, exactly like Migel.
I would have loved to tell Katrina on my left, Payam on my right or anyone else behind me or in front of me about my theories but I know better. The teacher shakes his head and finally opens the door wide, signaling the "possibly-as-hot-as-Migel" guy. He walks in and looks around the class, he looks NOTHING like Migel, but he looks a lot like the basketball player I had imagined, baggy black pants with pockets and red stitching, a basketball jersey and oversized running shoes.
I did get a few points wrong though, he's a white guy, his lower lip doesn't hang out, and he is very far from a McDonalds worker, the first thing I notice about him are his eyes, they're light blue gray, rather cheap color but it gives him such an innocent look. His hair is spiked up in the back but he has bangs coming down to his cheeks in the front and I think it was originally black because the roots show, but the dye is blond. Every girl in the class seems to be holding her breath, including Katrina who happens to be Migel's girlfriend.
The new guy looks the class over than grins a doggish half smirk and practically declaring himself as the new class hotty he says:
"Hey sup everybody?"
"The sky!" one of Migel's friends, Nhat yells stupidly from the back. I have no idea whybut everyone laughs. The kid does what I thought of and rolls his eyes.
" I see you're real bright" he answers still smirking.
The class raises an "oooooooooooh" and turns back to Nhat who snorts and leans back in his seat looking at his friends for support. Migel's other 2 friends aren't luckily as moronic as Nhat so the conversation ends there. The new guy casually swings his bag onto his shoulder and comes to sit down next to Katrina, by the window, 2 seats to my left. I notice Migel watching Katrina who automatically starts a conversation with the kid.
" What's your name?" She asks him flirtatiously batting her long fake lashes. He quirks an eyebrow at her than gives a half smirk and shakes his head amused. I inwardly grin as Katrina looks away indignantly. The new guy doesn't seem to care very much that he had just turned down the princess of the class. I watch him bend over a notebook and scratch some sort of graffiti that I've never been able to read in it.
It's nice though, its black lettering with red contour and I think the first letter's an F but I really wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a number of some sort. His hair covers his eyes from my side so I can't see his expression. I inwardly pout and look around the class again, than up at the clock above the teacher's desk. The arrows move at a pace that'll have me with arthritis before 11 o' clock. I slowly put my head into my arms on my desk as sleep creeps into the corners of my eyes. Finally I give into the welcoming darkness and begin to watch images fly me by.
I open my eyes and look up at the window across from me, Katrina's looking there too. I turn my head and realize the whole class is looking there. The large window is open; the smell of the apple blossoms is making its way up to tickle my senses. Why is everyone staring that way? I follow Julia's gaze from her stunned expression to the window where a figure is crouched on the windowsill.
I feel my heart strum the beat of a song and the music fills my ears.
It's a familiar tune; it takes me a minute to identify it. It's a DDR tune, its called Butterfly, I love that song. I wonder why it's playing, or if I'm the only one who can hear it. The figure steps down from the windowsill. It's a person, a guy, he's not wearing a shirt and he has a really nice body; six pack, muscular and tanned. He's wearing light blue Jeans and he has dark hair. I can't identify the color really, and I can't really see his face, actually I can't see his face at all, some invisible object shadows it. Than I realize he just came through a 3rd story window. I lift my gaze from his face to his sides where a beautiful pair of white angel wings is folded back to fit through the window. They rise above his head and bend slightly being too large for the low class ceiling. Suddenly I realize the class is staring at me now. Me? Why? He's looking at me too. The angel is looking at me, no, not looking, gazing at me, I can't see his face but I can feel it. Its intense, butterflies come alive in my stomach and the song begins a faster louder tune in my head.
"Melissa" I hear his voice, it's a clear handsome voice, he outstretches his arm and offers me his hand. I make a mental picture of every line on that hand and the class continues to watch me. Time has stopped I think, because they haven't moved a muscle since a few minutes ago.
"Melissa" The voice sounds different, more impatient. I put my hand in his.
"MELISSA!" I quickly open my eyes in surprise, finding my hand clutching that of the substitute teacher standing over me. I pull my hand back and push against the desk with my other hand.
The chair leans back and I feel myself falling backwards. I panic and grab the desk before I can hit the ground; it bends over and falls on top of me, spilling its contents onto my stomach in the process. I manage to yelp before my head collides with the desk behind mine, making me bite down on my tongue, and finally ending up in a heap on the ground. An uproar of laughter resounds from all around and all I can do is stare at the ceiling fan waiting for the sparks in my eyes to pass. I'm such a klutz.
I always get into this sort of thing, daydreaming is my curse, my blessing, my only escape. Unfortunately I can't dream and not make dreams my master. That would be a part of a Kippling poem that although I can recite I can't put into play. Once my head stops pounding and the laughter around me has hushed to a few meagre giggles I get up and put my desk, chair and books back into place, and put my own butt back onto my chair, trying to look somewhat dignified. Okay, so maybe I've never gotten quite this carried away.
The substitute teacher has thankfully chosen to go back to her desk and let us return to doing anything but work. The class soon turns their attention to things more important then my stupidity, so I go back to watching the new kid who's name I still don't know. He's done with his graffiti and is now distractedly staring out the window. He yawns and I yawn because of the influence. No. I will not doze off again. come on Melissa fight it.I look up at the clock, its 10:48, ten more minutes. Just ten.
~TD Disclaimer: its all MINE! And fictional, this is not an autobiography.
September Sucks (ch1)
Tuesday, August 28th 2003, I write at the top of my paper in my best cursive writing. Pleased to have distracted myself for a few seconds I put the pen back down on the desk and set my expression to "silently interested" mode. This is the basic way a student avoids a teacher's wrath, look conscious and follow her with your gaze, after having perfected the technique over your first year of high school, you can set it on and off allowing your mind time to roam free as your subconscious takes full control of your exterior. I'm sitting in the third row, as always, that's what happens when your last name starts with Q.
As I'm just about to start a caricature of my fat overly cheerful teacher at the top of my page, Katrina, sitting at my left reaches over and drops a crumpled piece of paper onto my desk. I inwardly groan and glancing up at the woman who is now reading her teacher's manual aloud I look down at the paper. I turn it over not finding a name; I turn to Katrina and whisper:
"-To?"
The Russian girl gives me one of those looks meaning that my question was the most obvious thing in the world such as " How old am I?" and points at me. I blink confused.
"-Me?
She nods and goes back to the trashy romance novel open on her desk. I decide to stop the conversation and uncrumple the paper. In sloppy handwriting, with black marker the note reads "Nice Hair" I stare at it even more confused and brush my hand through my long dirty-blond hair, my hand stops at the almost tip in the back, finding a sticky wet substance there. I take the strand over to the front to find a disgusting pink wad of gum.
I take scissors from my pencil case and reluctantly cut the bottom of the strand off, it starts early this year, second day of school, well I should have known considering I ended up in a class full of self-absorbed morons who's one goal in life is to make mine a living hell, maybe I should be grateful for the attention, note my sarcasm if you will. I stick the gum onto a piece of paper and look around the class. A group of 4 guys sitting at the last row, being a row down from me are having a loud conversation and bursting into laughter every few seconds which the teacher doesn't seem to want to pay attention to. 3 of them are chewing bubblegum, the leader of the group, Miguel, is taking a new one out of a package of watermelon flavored Hubba Bubba.
He has black hair that he wears in an unfashionable mushroom cut, but it suits him so well I couldn't imagine him spiking it like all the other guys. He's muscled and is wearing a black shirt with "The Ataris" printed across the front in red letters. He has dark brown eyes that have a slight green gleam in them. Believe me, if I took every celebrity on Katrina's agenda and took each of their best feature, then cloned it into a guy, they wouldn't come close to this guy, he is the direct definition of Hot. Too bad he knows it.
'Melissa" I hear the teacher's cheery voice. I spin around from gaping at Miguel and look at her.
-Huh? I utter stupidly, how bright, I inwardly scold myself. I stare at her and look around hoping someone will drop the answer but the class has fallen into an unusual silence, which in this case means they're all waiting for me to say something really moronic.
-I asked you what you got for number 7dear, Miss Quiz tries to help. I stare down at my blank paper.
-Uh.what was the question? I ask. I hear giggles and theories on my intelligence level fly across the class.
Miss Quiz turns away from me and chooses Julia instead, who obviously gives her the right answer than flashes me a smile meaning once more that it was extremely easy and that I must completely lack gray matter in my feeble mind. I shrug it off and blow my bangs out of my face; stupid fringe. history lasts another long half an hour before my favorite sound in the world fills the school, the sound of the end of class bell. Grade 10 always seemed a million years away but now that its here its just like every other year. My horoscope says it's a good time to start new relationships and to buy a new refrigerator.
I watch the class slowly empty leaving only Steven, a nerdy plump black boy sitting in the second row reading a brick of a book, and me. Happy to have the homeroom to myself at least for 5 minutes I get up and walk over to the window and not so gracefully get up onto the large windowsill. The smell of the apple tree in full bloom 3 floors down welcomes me as I breathe in the fresh air. Our school is the size of an apartment building, if every apartment were a classroom, only 200 students, about 35 a grade, making my class of 19 people one of the biggest. Unfortunately, my best and only friend is in the other class of 20, so here I am, on the second day of school, sitting on a windowsill trying to figure out a sure fire way of survival. As the next class draws nearer the room begins to fill once again and I'm forced to leave my perch and make my way back to my seat.
A fat bald man with glasses wearing jeens and a white t-shirt walks in and informs us of the French teacher's absence, the class around me cheers and I inwardly thank a god I don't believe in. I loath French class, if M. Declarer would let us out of it at least once without 3 pages worth of SA I might not hate it so much and that was last year, I hate to see what he does now that we're a whole year closer to paradise. I spend the class observing my surroundings, listening to conversations that don't concern me with great interest and doodling on my binder.
"I heard there's a new kid coming today" Amber was telling Mark who she 's had a crush on for 2 years. They sit right in front of me in the 2nd row. I've often caught Amber dreamily staring at him during classes and writing his name in hearts on her desk.
"Where'd you hear that?" Mark asks with mild interest.
"Well Caro saw him in front of the principle's office this morning she said he's really-, she cleared her throat and interrupted herself, I mean she says she heard the principle say he's coming to our class."
Lynn, a curly red haired girl from the first row turned around and leaned her chair back to join the conversation. "I heard he just got out of juvenile hall" she said sounding overly dramatic.
If she were talking to me, I would have rolled my eyes, unfortunately for me, my communication tactics will stay as secret as the reason I don't openly use them is to me. A knock on the class door distracts us all and everyone turns their short attention span towards the front of the room. The fat man walks to the door and opens it, poking his head out into the corridor. He receives a pink slip from whoever is out there and reads it while rubbing his chin where I think he wishes he had a beard.
The volume in the room racks up to maximum as everyone eagerly exchanges suppositions and rumors about the new kid who is obviously innocently standing outside the class waiting for the stupid substitute to let him in. I start imagining what he might look like, first I picture an ugly brace- faced, pimpled teenager like the ones working at McDonalds, than I picture a muscular black guy with a basketball jersey and a large lower lip that gives guys a constant puppy look than I turn and look at Migel who is now poking Elisabeth with his pen and I figure he's writing something obscene and hilarious on her neck, yes, that's what he'll probably look like, exactly like Migel.
I would have loved to tell Katrina on my left, Payam on my right or anyone else behind me or in front of me about my theories but I know better. The teacher shakes his head and finally opens the door wide, signaling the "possibly-as-hot-as-Migel" guy. He walks in and looks around the class, he looks NOTHING like Migel, but he looks a lot like the basketball player I had imagined, baggy black pants with pockets and red stitching, a basketball jersey and oversized running shoes.
I did get a few points wrong though, he's a white guy, his lower lip doesn't hang out, and he is very far from a McDonalds worker, the first thing I notice about him are his eyes, they're light blue gray, rather cheap color but it gives him such an innocent look. His hair is spiked up in the back but he has bangs coming down to his cheeks in the front and I think it was originally black because the roots show, but the dye is blond. Every girl in the class seems to be holding her breath, including Katrina who happens to be Migel's girlfriend.
The new guy looks the class over than grins a doggish half smirk and practically declaring himself as the new class hotty he says:
"Hey sup everybody?"
"The sky!" one of Migel's friends, Nhat yells stupidly from the back. I have no idea whybut everyone laughs. The kid does what I thought of and rolls his eyes.
" I see you're real bright" he answers still smirking.
The class raises an "oooooooooooh" and turns back to Nhat who snorts and leans back in his seat looking at his friends for support. Migel's other 2 friends aren't luckily as moronic as Nhat so the conversation ends there. The new guy casually swings his bag onto his shoulder and comes to sit down next to Katrina, by the window, 2 seats to my left. I notice Migel watching Katrina who automatically starts a conversation with the kid.
" What's your name?" She asks him flirtatiously batting her long fake lashes. He quirks an eyebrow at her than gives a half smirk and shakes his head amused. I inwardly grin as Katrina looks away indignantly. The new guy doesn't seem to care very much that he had just turned down the princess of the class. I watch him bend over a notebook and scratch some sort of graffiti that I've never been able to read in it.
It's nice though, its black lettering with red contour and I think the first letter's an F but I really wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a number of some sort. His hair covers his eyes from my side so I can't see his expression. I inwardly pout and look around the class again, than up at the clock above the teacher's desk. The arrows move at a pace that'll have me with arthritis before 11 o' clock. I slowly put my head into my arms on my desk as sleep creeps into the corners of my eyes. Finally I give into the welcoming darkness and begin to watch images fly me by.
I open my eyes and look up at the window across from me, Katrina's looking there too. I turn my head and realize the whole class is looking there. The large window is open; the smell of the apple blossoms is making its way up to tickle my senses. Why is everyone staring that way? I follow Julia's gaze from her stunned expression to the window where a figure is crouched on the windowsill.
I feel my heart strum the beat of a song and the music fills my ears.
It's a familiar tune; it takes me a minute to identify it. It's a DDR tune, its called Butterfly, I love that song. I wonder why it's playing, or if I'm the only one who can hear it. The figure steps down from the windowsill. It's a person, a guy, he's not wearing a shirt and he has a really nice body; six pack, muscular and tanned. He's wearing light blue Jeans and he has dark hair. I can't identify the color really, and I can't really see his face, actually I can't see his face at all, some invisible object shadows it. Than I realize he just came through a 3rd story window. I lift my gaze from his face to his sides where a beautiful pair of white angel wings is folded back to fit through the window. They rise above his head and bend slightly being too large for the low class ceiling. Suddenly I realize the class is staring at me now. Me? Why? He's looking at me too. The angel is looking at me, no, not looking, gazing at me, I can't see his face but I can feel it. Its intense, butterflies come alive in my stomach and the song begins a faster louder tune in my head.
"Melissa" I hear his voice, it's a clear handsome voice, he outstretches his arm and offers me his hand. I make a mental picture of every line on that hand and the class continues to watch me. Time has stopped I think, because they haven't moved a muscle since a few minutes ago.
"Melissa" The voice sounds different, more impatient. I put my hand in his.
"MELISSA!" I quickly open my eyes in surprise, finding my hand clutching that of the substitute teacher standing over me. I pull my hand back and push against the desk with my other hand.
The chair leans back and I feel myself falling backwards. I panic and grab the desk before I can hit the ground; it bends over and falls on top of me, spilling its contents onto my stomach in the process. I manage to yelp before my head collides with the desk behind mine, making me bite down on my tongue, and finally ending up in a heap on the ground. An uproar of laughter resounds from all around and all I can do is stare at the ceiling fan waiting for the sparks in my eyes to pass. I'm such a klutz.
I always get into this sort of thing, daydreaming is my curse, my blessing, my only escape. Unfortunately I can't dream and not make dreams my master. That would be a part of a Kippling poem that although I can recite I can't put into play. Once my head stops pounding and the laughter around me has hushed to a few meagre giggles I get up and put my desk, chair and books back into place, and put my own butt back onto my chair, trying to look somewhat dignified. Okay, so maybe I've never gotten quite this carried away.
The substitute teacher has thankfully chosen to go back to her desk and let us return to doing anything but work. The class soon turns their attention to things more important then my stupidity, so I go back to watching the new kid who's name I still don't know. He's done with his graffiti and is now distractedly staring out the window. He yawns and I yawn because of the influence. No. I will not doze off again. come on Melissa fight it.I look up at the clock, its 10:48, ten more minutes. Just ten.