I hate preps. I hate them. All of them; not just Kayla, who undoubtly wrote that horrible thing on the wall for all the world to see, but every last one because they're all the same. I hate myself too. If I were smart, I would have stayed out of the war like I had always meant to do. Even if I did enter the war, why'd I have to choose Kayla to enter it with?
Criss takes out a sharpie and crosses out mine and his names. He then writes Kayla and Pedro to replace them. Pedro is the janitor who wears the same football jersey every day. He smells horrible and it's pretty much safe to say he's the only one in our school with the name Pedro. The funniest part about it is he's not even Mexican; he's full out German, he even has that thick, hard to understand German accent. It sometimes makes me giggle.
"I told you we had your back. If this is their attack against whatever you did to them that has Kayla looking like she's going to stab the eyes of the next person who talks to her out, then it's pretty weak and very pathetic." He tells me as he slips the sharpie back in the spiral rings of his notebook and tries to ruffle my hair like I'm some five year old. I push his hand out of the way and give him a dirty look.
"This war is stupid. I wish I never even joined, it's not even worth it anymore. I'm starting to hate this freaking school, we're the only one out there that has to have cliques purposely setting out to make each others lives a living hell." I mutter as I glare at the wall. Sure, it wasn't their best attack, but every time you turn around their doing something. Then we have to worry about getting them back. Then they do something worse then what they did before, it never freaking ends and the time in between these things happening is almost nonexistent.
"War isn't supposed to be pretty. You have to admit though, the victories are very nice. Watching Kayla and her little minions squeal and cry has to be worth constantly having to top them, you're just too much of a French pansy right now to get the militarism in it." He tells me with a smirk. I slap his arm as hard as I can but I seem to be in more pain then he is. My fingers turn red and start to tingle so I just slap him again. Surprisingly, that just makes them feel worse.
"You sound like Bobby, and are you sure you even know what militarism means Mr. World-War-Four? I guess watching them scream and throw their little tantrums is nice, but this war is pointless. Nobody is ever going to win. We're going to fight until the day that we graduate, then we're all going to act like the rest of the world and get jobs and all this will be a memory of our own stupidity." I tell him as I blow on my hand, hoping that my cool air will make the tingling stop. It doesn't.
"Then don't look at it as a war. Look at is as revenge. With revenge, you only have to look at the little victories, there doesn't have to be a winner. Besides, other high schools are boring, do you really want to be like them?" He asks as he starts to guide me back to our lunch table. On the way I see a prep. I don't know her name, she's one of the quieter ones who never actually did anything to become a full fledged part of the war. She's like what I used to be; with a clique but still harmless. She glares at me. I'm not one of her own, that's all that matters. She's not allowed to be my friend and I'm not allowed to be hers so I just glare right back. I wonder though; is she really that different from me that I can just assume she's evil, just because we're wearing different styles?
I shake my head. Of course she is. She's a prep. Sure, she's innocent for now. I used to be innocent too. Then look what happened. I'm out there trying my hardest to make her friends lives a living hell. There is no such thing as innocence in this school unless you're a geek. You're either with them or us and sooner or later your going to have to stand up with the side you picked. That's how war works. You can't send supplies to one side or something like that and not expect the other side to get pissed and try to pull you in by any means necessary. Like with Pearl Harbor. Eventually, you won't be able to resist anymore. You're not allowed. They'll fight you and blow up your freaking missiles and people until you do.
"Je detest Francais." Heather tells me as she slams her French dictionary down on the table. Well, at least we can say one useful sentence without having to look it up. Of course, we weren't taught the words to make sentences like those, instead we learned to say "I hate butter" or "I hate the book so and so", but we were able to MAKE it useful so I guess it still counts as something.
My French teacher scurries over. She heard Heather say that. Apparently, what she heard made her upset. France is her home land, French was the first language she learned and it apparently hurts her to hear that Heather detests it. Of course, Heather comes up with a stupid excuse, saying that she didn't mean it she was just telling me what she heard someone else say. I laugh at how dumb she sounds until my French teacher asks her who, and she says me. Awesome.
"Amelia!" she says all shocked like. I don't even bother correcting her. I don't see why people have to take my simple three letter name and try to make it as complex as possible. "I'm surprised to hear something like that from you, you are of French origin, no?" she asks.
I growl. What the hell about me looks French? Please, I'd really like to know. First Bobby, then Criss, now her! If I find out that Bobby said something to her I swear I'm going to murder him. But then, he's in Spanish, he wouldn't go out of his way just to tell the teachers of the French department that I'm French too. That'd be silly.
"Amelia," she goes on, forgetting the whole French thing when she doesn't get an answer, "I'm very concerned about you. You have an F in this class and that's going on your interim. You were two percent away from pulling a D, if you would have just participated more that's what your parents would see." She says before she walks away.
"You know, she's not going to bump you up to a D no matter how much you try to negotiate. You're going to get grounded." Heather tells me as she points and laughs. I take my binder and whack her head with it for pulling me into the stupid conversation. She's right though. Even though it's a measly two percent, and normal teachers would just bump me or even let me do extra credit work, she is French. She does not understand the American ways of not failing school. For crying out loud, they only have ONE chance to pass their graduation tests! I should have taken Spanish. I bet the Spaniards get lots of chances, therefore the teachers would be more lenient. I KNOW they're more lenient, Bobby is STILL bragging about taco day. They spent the whole day with a taco bar that their teacher brought in and doing no work, no, just dancing and having a good ole freaking time.
"I think it's time to infiltrate plan 'stinky cheese'" I tell Heather as I keep my glare pointed at my stupid French teacher. "Stinky Cheese" is the code name we gave to one of our biggest plans in the "impossible but still nice sounding" plans series. In that one, we put our stupid French teacher at the top of the Eiffel tower, then when she's gazing and all happy we put little bombs in every little one of those gaps in the structure, then BOOM! The final stage is getting someone to rebuild it; the Eiffel tower is too beautiful to go down with our revenge.
The bell rings. I make a silent promise to myself to stop speaking French in French class as I gather my things. From this point on, no more spending half our talk time looking up one sentence in that stupid little dictionary. I am American, and if I want to speak MY native tongue then I WILL until she wants to embrace the fact that she is here, in the United States, and therefore should adopt our teaching methods or go the hell back to France, where her students won't speak English and will be lame enough to not get mad over two percent being denied to them.
While we're walking down the hall to our chemistry class a group of football players and cheerleaders pass us, being loud and chanting something that I can't even understand because they're not even in synch. They get to skip the last class of the day because they've got a game tonight, which means practice starts early. That's not really fair, obviously. I don't see why they can't just schedule the game forty-five minutes later and go to practice after the last period of the day. Nothing about the privileges given to the jocks is fair. When I take over the world, that's one of the first things I'm going to fully rearrange.
Heather somehow finds a way to ignore the noisy gathering. It only takes me a second to realize how; Matt is across the hall and she's drooling over him and probably picturing their early wedding. While she's busy in her little, slightly disgusting dream world something hits her in the head and makes a thump as it hits the ground. I pick it up and examine it; a football. One of those lowlife jocks were seriously low enough to throw something at a student while pretty much everyone in the school was watching. I get pissed and I throw it right at Kayla's head. I know for a fact she didn't throw the ball, the cheerleaders are armed with pompoms not footballs, but I'm still pissed at what she wrote on the wall and she's looking a little brighter then this morning, so of course I've got to fix that.
The school goes silent as Kayla screams in pain. Blood leaks from her little nose into her hands and she screams the muffled words "MY NOSE JOB!". I crack up laughing. I knew she got that done. It magically got smaller within one summer. As I'm laughing (and believe me, I'm NOT the only one) she points a bloody little finger at me and shouts some more muffled words. Two teachers guide her to the nurses office and completely ignore me. They tell her on the way that they're sure it was just an accident, that I was just throwing them back their ball.
"You're worse then French now, you're a French bitch and also part psychotic genius." Matt says as he runs up to me and Heather. NOW HIM TOO!? That's it. I am going to order a specially made shirt that says in bold red letters "I am NOT French" and then nobody can ever call me French again. That's the way words on shirts work. They're magical, I tell you. They're better then lawyers. In fact. The world should just replace lawyers with shirts that say "I swear I'm innocent"…but then I guess nobody would ever go to jail. Screw that idea.
"Matt. If you call me French again I will seriously rip out your mouth and feed it to you VIA ASS, do I make myself clear?" I ask as I throw my fist in his face to be all threatening like. Before, being called French just annoyed me, now it's personal. There is NO way I'm going to be, in any way, talked as if I'm from the same crazy ethnicity as that two percent hating tyrant.
"She'll do it too. She has no mercy, you saw her with that football! You could enter the Olympics for France like that! That was like, perfect freaking force and aim, I couldn't be prouder of you mademoiselle." Bobby says as I roll my eyes. I consider ripping out his mouth and shoving it up his ass like I promised Matt, but I could never do that to Bobby. It'd feel like beating up an extremely mentally challenged kid and that's not right.
"Are you stupid?" Criss asks. I become confused. Matt is laughing because I'm a brute, Bobby is proud of me, and now I'm being lectured by Criss? Didn't he once make fun of me for NOT being in the war? Now I'm stupid for getting Kayla, and I must say, I got her pretty damn good too.
"Why the HELL would you make her bleed? You couldn't just bonk her head like they did to Heather? You just had to go break her nose?" he continues. He's REALLY pissed. I don't get it, he HATES Kayla, shouldn't he be happy that her face is going to be full of metal tomorrow? I don't say anything.
"Chill out would you? She was standing up for me, that's what good friends do, and you know the rules. She had to get the bitch back ten times harder then they got me otherwise they'd parade around like they've already won." Heather says and I almost laugh. As if anyone can win. Like I said, this is just a stupid high school game. When we graduate, it's all over, it'll be a tie, worse then a tie, we will waste our time tormenting each other for nothing at all.
"Exactly, so now Kayla's going to try to get you back ten times worse, and you know it's going to involve blood. You think you're on top because you can do a decent throw with a football? She's got a whole TEAM full of men who worship her and that pretty little face of hers who can all throw perfect shots and they're all going to be ready to get revenge on you. You thought the war was difficult enough for you before? Have fun with it now, because it's not just going to be writing on a wall." Criss tells me as he gives me that look that makes me feel like a complete idiot without even having to hear what he's saying.
"What was she supposed to do? She had to react and she did. Granted she probably caused a little bit of trouble while she did so, but she's got a whole entourage of friends who will protect her. Besides, she didn't change the war. They'll get their measly revenge, maybe give one of us a black eye, then we'll just get them back with something that's not violent and then the war will be de-elevated. Now quiet it, you're just scaring her." Matt demands as he gives Criss a very dirty glare.
"We have to get to biology. Come on Amy, you can go draw blood from the noses of the people there" Heather says as she grabs my arm and practically drags me to our last class. I don't really listen to her though, I'm too busy thinking about what Criss said. I shake those thoughts away. This war is just a stupid little game. It means nothing. I got a little out of hand with the blood but everything is just getting blown out of proportion again. Besides, it's not like Kayla actually saw me throw the ball, she just blamed me because right now she's been blaming me fore nearly everything.
The preps glare at us when we get into the room. At first I consider the thought that they know something, that one of them saw me, until I realize that they're glaring at all of our kind. Just like when I got mad at all the preps for what Kayla wrote, they're mad at all of us. They don't know anything, of course they wouldn't, they weren't looking at us they were looking at the football players or gazing at the cheerleaders in their little three inch skirts (which, by the way, is another thing that's not fair. The dress code forbids skirts that short but the uniforms the school buys pretty much violates it's own rule!)
The bell rings and a sub walks into a room. I recognize him as an elementary school sub who sometimes comes up here when we're short. He must hate that. In the school he's used to the kids pretty much all get along, they all love each other and try to be friends with anyone. Here it's different. Here we've got the chaos, the occasional violence, and the fact that if you make assigned groups with different cliques, you're asking for the worst day in your whole life.
The sub puts in a boring movie. He's obviously learned his lesson and decided it would be safest to just force us all to individually be bored out of our minds. At least if we're dying from boredom (which, by the way, is completely possible) we can't be trying to kill each other. He's learned something from his past experiences.
Heather is already fast asleep before the sub can even put the movie in the VCR (that, by the way, is how old school our learning facility is). I sigh and get out a piece of paper and the prettiest purple pen I own; the needed equipment for a suitable note. Now, for anyone who ever thought that you can't get writer's block with something as simple as a note, you're actually extremely wrong.
I sigh and tune into the movie. I don't know the title of it, because when that was being declared I was illustrating a very creative picture of Kayla with blood streaming from her nose, but if I can pretty much give a good guess as to what the producers decided to call it. "The extremely boring movie about all the gases in the period table of boring".
I write that down in the note. Not that the receiver of the note would understand, considering she's FAST-A-FREAKING-SLEEP while I'm sitting here wanting someone to whisper too. Isn't she a nice friend? If I could have a guess as to why she's so tired I'd have to say that she was up all night reading another one of her sleazy little novels, which by the way she does do, and so now she's too exhausted to entertain me. I see how it is. She chose the sex lives of Pam and Paul, who have escaped from Indonesia, and Paul is half vampire, but they still find a reason to have…intercourse every time they see each other, over me.
I sigh and add more purple blood to my doodle's nose. Suddenly a loud noise pierces everyone in the classes ear. Everyone stands up and does their best to protect their ears from the annoying siren.
A/N: This is in dedication to my snake Ekans who was sold to me freaking sick so he died but I still loved every moment i got with him.
lilyfinn: Heather did you change you're freaking name agian? It was not a fluke. I beat you, admit it, I am the mega-prodigy. And I told you I was using that Hitler thing, I came up with it so I'm allowed. That's the way the world works, if you don't like it, blow it up. (That's my new moto). And I didn't make Katie's charector (Karin) ugly and unlikeable, that's just the way katie is! Gotta keep her in touch with her real counterpart. LOL and quiet complianing about me/Amy winning that tic tac toe thing, i DID get over it denial is silly. AND DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO CHANGE THE NAME OF THE CHARECTOR YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU MEET A NEW GUY YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE? Becuase then I'm gonna run out of names. thanks for your really long review though.
Arn: yeah lol sorry about the language I kind of do have a foul mouth...LoL and it's funny you'd do that becuase the charector Kayla is based off a real girl in my school named Kayla who's SERIOUSLY that stupid. But, that for instance never happened, don't get me wrong she usually does things that are ten times more stupid, but I didn't feel like writting about any of those (but once she asked our histoy teacher "if a hydrogen bomb were to drop on us, would we be safe if we were inside the school". oh and she thought that bamboo grew in Arizona i believe it was). Anyway, thank you so much for your review and i hope i humored you with some REAL Kayla happenings.