My third attempt of throwing a pebble from across my bedroom balcony towards Charli's bedroom window proved futile as I watched it fail to knock the window pane. "This is why I always get picked last in gym class," I grumbed, my energy depleting by the second from my lack of throwing skills. I do throw like a girl. The reason why I was chucking pebbles at Charli's bedroom window was so that I could get her attention for us to talk about the whole fake dating thing. I made a vow not to go to school tomorrow not unless I convince Charli to be my fake girlfriend. I can't stand the idea of running into Leslie again and giving her the satisfaction of annoying the living daylights out of me. I was desperate and my solution lied inside Charli. I prayed for the best while prophesying the worst. Another pebble is tossed and as expected, falls a few inches away from her balcony. Maybe I should call her....but I deleted her number a long time ago . So throwing pebbles it is. "Okay,"I try on
Nothing annoys me more than the shrill cry of my morning's alarm. It's even worse when you've already punched the snooze button thrice and all I'm left with is the dreaded task of having to divorce my blankets and step into the crisp mornignair that stung my skin like razor burns. Heavy eyelids refusing to open , momentarily subjecting me to blindness as I staggered through my room in an attempt to locate the light switch , ocassionally knocking furniture with my feet.Even through my closed bedroom door, I could hear Roxie's out of tune singing. Another source of my morning grumpiness and headache.Where's Simon Cowell when you need him? I trailed downstairs , my nose leading me to the kitchen where mom is cooking...something. It smelled good, much to my pleasant surprise. I don't remember the last time that smelled this amazing. "Good morning, Boo bear," Her chirpy voice greeted meas she untied her pink apron before hanging it on one of the hooks nailed on the kitchen wall next to
"Here, hold this,"I was pushed into doing something I never thought I'd be doing ever since my existence was brought to Earth when my mother pushed me out of her vagina. A rose in hand, its petals birthed with the most attractive shade of red , redder than a blushing tomato, I stretched it over for Charli Dawson to behold. A look of disgust penetrated her brooding aura as she regarded me with a disdainful eye, deftly plucking it from my fingers' grasp with tentative fingers. Never in my seventeen years of life have I ever thought that I'd be buying anyone flowers. Especially Charlotte Dawson!"I suppose this should flatter me into believing that you could be a hopeless romantic when pushed to the wall," She sneered and I returned with an eye roll at her shallow , illogical reasoning. I'd made a brief stop at the local gas station to purchase a rose, for Charli. I wouldn't waste a penny on her even if it kills me but I had to make our fake relationship look legit. Besides, it's just f
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Mr. Angerson spoke, hos voice losing its usual institutionalism tone and adopting a measured one filled with rage and disappointment. His dandruff flaked glasses were almost sliding off the bridge of his nose before using his forefinger to push it up in place."I didn't punch her that hard," Was my casual response ,leaning back on the tattered seat , hearing it squeak at the action. My father was on his way after being called from work about the incident that had ensured between Leslie and I and I couldn't have been more annoyed. Why do they always feel the need to involve parents in disciplinary meetings?"You broke her nose," Mr. Angerson informed with a seething look but I failed to see the severity of the situation. So what if I broke her nose, can't she get a nose nob instead? Those things can be fixed. She comes from a long line of wealthy family members, I'm sure her father can afford a decent nose job."Her nose was ugly anyways, I think
She's seated alone during lunch break. Tray half filled with some salad, I guess it's chicken salad , fiddling with the bottletop of her water bottle, flipping through a novel, Charli Dawson remained unnoticed. Except for a few rude students who would occasionally bump against her as an 'accident' before sniggering as they sauntered away, leaving her with a blistering glare thrown at them. Tyson is talking too loudly I can't even think straight, my gaze snatched by this goth freak as she shrunk herself away from the venomous judgement of highschool students. It's not like it's unusual for her to eat alone, Charli was a lone wolf, never wanted to fit in, never cared about fitting in so she kept to herself. Some took this personally, people like me for example. Her don't care attitude made students gnash their teeth with rage, it's like yelling at someone and instead of them yelling back they remain all calm and laid back. That's certainly going to tick people off. Seriously, I can't
One of the rules laid on me by the iridescent Amanda was that I shouldn't report to class late . The rules of In school suspension. Even with that little detail floating around inside my conglomerated mind , I risked a trip down the local gas station before driving off to school knowing I'd show up late. But Einstein's theory of relativity, time is supposedly not real? It's just some concept human beings came up with so that they can have something to blame when they show up at an event later than expected. Like me , waltzing into my newly assigned, isolated monochromatic painted classroom twenty five minutes late. I chose to blame time and whoever invented it. Arms crossed underneath her breasts, fingers drumming against her upper arm impertinently with her five inch stilletoed foot tapping the marbled floor , I was accurately clued in on her angered mood , a product of my tardiness. And it didn't help that she was glaring directly at me as I stepped foot inside the emptied class
"There are some rules I want to go through with you before we commence this brutal journey of me mentoring you into the path of being a respectful student," The sharp clicking sound of her high heels stabbing the marbled floor as she paced authoritatively in front of me infiltrated the quietened room . My back reconnected with the wooden backrest of my seat , leaning back to alleviate the pressure on my spine from being hunched over. Eyes riddled with fatigue and boredom, I gave her a blank look as she continuously paced from left to right, her slender delicate fingers twisting the cap on the whiteboard marker as she did. " ....and I expect you to follow these rules to the letter, failure to do so will lead to dire consequences, " She stopped pacing, eyes on me with a stern expression. " Do I make myself clear?" Not to say that I wasn't paying attention - I have never seen those pants on her before, they really accentuate her hourglass figure- Amanda loudly cleared her throat, eff
After looking up the meaning of the word Obtuse, my mind felt subjected to some kind of humiliation ritual. I knew Amanda saw me as this inept student but to birth me with such a degrading adjective? That seemed a bit extreme. I mean, it's really not my fault that I have trouble retaining vital educational information, or any information that is deemed as 'important'. Obtuse? Am I really obtuse? Judging me solely on my academic performance is a shallow way to go Amanda. I'm pretty sure I could hold a perfectly decent and mentally stimulating conversation with her, over a cup of coffee - well, maybe not coffee per say since coffee isn't exactly my type of go to drink. It tastes weird. Bitter and disgusting. I don't understand why anyone would want to subject their taste buds to the inconceivable taste of coffee. It is an acquired taste anyway. My dad once told my mom that I was an acquired taste. At the moment I didn't know what he meant by that. I actually received it as a complime