How to Make a Human

True to Demetri's word, we made it back to the school with time to spare for me to get to class on time. Unfortunately for me, I spent so much time thanking them and assuring them that "are you kidding? I thought Shane stealing your car was hilarious!" that I still showed up to class late, which was a hideous mistake because my teacher is a heinous bitch.

"Billy! How nice of you to join us!" Mrs. Beakon smiled as I entered the room.

"Um, sorry I'm late. And my name is Bobbie," I corrected somewhat timidly, taking my assigned seat.

"Bobbie, Billy, they're both boy's names." She shuffled through her papers absentmindedly and I mentally willed her to catch on fire. She didn't.

"Anyway, you showed up late, and though I would appreciate it if you didn't make a habit out of it, you're off the hook this time," she told me.

"Oh, thank you! I'm so sorry, I lost track of time, but I swear it won't happen again!"

"Oh, but wait, then again, how will you ever learn if you‘re not punished?" she asked, now addressing the whole class, who grumbled unenthusiastically in response. "That‘s right. You won‘t. Because every single one of my students, new to the school or not, knows that it is absolutely imperative to show up to my class on time, isn't that right, Benny?"

"Yes ma'am," I muttered, looking down at my desk forlornly. Why? Why did we have to move?

"Now, you will meet me here after school at exactly 3:00PM. Not 3:05, not 3:01, exactly at 3:00."

"But… school doesn't end until 3:00," I told her meekly.

"Sounds like a personal problem," she chirped before practically skipping back to her desk, her fake red hair swaying slightly. "Oh, and Tommy?"

That name didn't even start with the letter B.

"Yes?"

"Don't be late."

-

When class ended I was surprised to see Shane bounding towards me, pushing down uniform-clad students in the process.

"Bobbie! BOBBIE-BOBBIE-BOO!" he shouted, sprinting towards me before hugging my shoulders tightly and swinging me around. How many times a day could this kid scare me to death? Well, he's up to two so far.

"How's my Olive?" he asked, readjusting his hat on his messy red hair. I had no clue how he could wear that hat when it was still relatively warm outside. His hat was meant for, like, Russian winters or something.

"Uh, alright, I guess," I shrugged.

Shane wrinkled his nose, "You realize I have already proclaimed you 'my olive,' right? That means we're friends now. That means you have to tell me the truth. You‘re a terrible fucking actress. Female Keanu Reeves."

I smiled and fiddled with my messenger bag strap. "I just got detention with Mrs. Beakon."

"The Bitch? Christ, how the hell did you manage that?" he practically screamed. People walking through the hall and chatting at lockers gave us an odd look.

"I don't know. Well, I do know. I was late. She's a… bitch. She's a dumb bitch. That's why I got detention. Because she's a crusty skank who is sexually deprived and emotionally needy, so she feels the need to bring students down with her into her lonely spiral so she can have some company! That's why I got detention." I huffed.

Shane looked at me surprised. He was clearly shocked that I hadn't just mumbled something in agreement, but had actually vented like… like a total bitch. Shit.

"Hahaha!" he laughed loudly, "That is so true!"

My eyebrows raised in shock at his reaction, but I forced them down and smiled like, "yeah, I know. I'm pretty darn hilarious, aren't I?"

"Jesus, Bobbie! Speak your mind more often! It's funny!"

"Will do, chief."

"Anyway, I was gonna ask, do you wanna hang out with Demetri and me this weekend?" he asked like it was no big deal, like he didn't just give me a lifeline, like he didn't just make me feel like the most popular person on the planet.

"Seriously?" I breathed, almost stopping in mid step, before I realized I should probably not stop walking in the middle of the hallway. Shane glanced at me as if to check if I was serious, and when he saw my doe-eyed expression he gave me a crooked smile and ruffled my hair.

"Of course, Bobbie. I dubbed you My Olive, did I not?"

"You did," I smiled brightly, shaking my head vigorously. Was I pathetic? Was I seriously this pathetic? I didn't know if it was normal to be so abnormally happy about having one friend, but I still couldn't push down my bubbling joy to make room for some casual coolness.

"Good deal then. What's your cell number?" he asked, whipping out his cell phone, prepared to enter a phone number.

"Uh… I actually don't have a cell phone," I mumbled, "but you can have my home phone number!"

"No cell phone! What are you? Eighty? Ah well, now you know what you're getting from me for Christmas."

-

After exchanging numbers and rushing to my next class (damn Shane kept making me late!) I settled down into what I assumed would be a lonely, boring period of art class. The art room's giant tables were spread out around the room, with canvases and blobs of paint on the tables.

"Paint your souls!" the oddly eccentric teacher bellowed from the front of the class, stroking his braided/beaded beard. His graying hair was tied in a low ponytail and his crooked nose adorned a pair of thick-framed glasses. His skin was tan and wrinkly, most likely from all the time he spent in the wilderness "painting sounds" or whatever he calls it.

"That is it. That is the assignment until, oh say," he closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples, "Sunday! No, no… we don't have class… then Thursday it is! Go!"

He breezed back into his office without any helpful instructions and began doodling away on his walls. I stared at the blank canvas in front of me for a breif moment before sticking my paintbrush into whatever blob of paint was the nearest to me. I smudged the color on my blank scene and sighed loudly. Black. Now there was a random black blob on the canvas and I have no effing clue what to do with it. But if we're painting out souls, and black is the color of my soul… well, shit, I need some serious counseling.

"Bobbie?" a voice coming from next to me asked. I stopped pitying myself and glanced up to who was talking to me. Before me stood a petite girl with a porcelain, china doll face. Her sleek brunette hair (with a bright strawberry clip holding back stray hair) came to her chin, and her smiling green eyes were surrounded by a thick frame of eyelashes.

"Uh… that's what they call me," I said smartly (ha!), putting down my paintbrush and turning to the girl.

"Hey, I'm in Mrs. Beakon's class with you," she said, sitting down on the stool next to me and grabbing a paintbrush. Ah, The Bitch's class?

"Oh… um, cool." I shifted in my seat. "So, you witnessed the injustice?"

"Well, you were late,” she shrugged.

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.

"Yeah, I guess it's fair," I lied. It is not fair.

The girl laughed, "I'm only joking. Mrs. Beakon is a horrid bitch."

"Oh, shit, I hate that woman,” I sighed in relief. She was normal! She laughed and I swear to god I heard bells. She was like a petite, little angel or something!

"So… what's your name?" I asked, dipping my paint brush into the purple and trying to spice up my black blob, thus resulting in a revolting shade of brown.

"You can call me Penny, Patty, Piper, Pepper, Page," she paused, "Or Bear."

"Oh… wow. That's a lot of nicknames…" Crap. She's popular. Goodbye Penny, Patty, Piper, Pepper, Page, or Bear.

"Well…. Yeah, but none of them have stuck so far. Except for Bear. That's what they call me."

"What's your real name?"

"Jill," she chirped. "I really hate it. No joke, my brother's name is Jack. How high do you have to be to name your children after a nursery rhyme."

"Haha, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch--"

"A shovel to brutally murder whoever sings that song," she interrupted. I clammed up and she laughed her bell-like laugh again, which made me snort out a chuckle as well.

"So, where did all these other names come from?" I asked, gesturing to nothing in particular.

"Eh, I guess I just always wanted them. They just sound… fun. Jill sounds boring."

"What about Bear?" I asked, jealously eyeing the green/blue swirls she had doodled absentmindedly.

"Oh. I don't know. My dad started calling me that when I was, like, four, and it just stuck. Now everyone calls me it. What about Bobbie? Is that your real name?"

"Yeah… my parents wanted to have a cute nickname, so they planned on naming me Roberta so they could call me Bobbie, but two days before I was born my dad decided he hated the name Roberta. So, ta-dah, Bobbie was born."

"Ah, interesting." She nodded her head and looked down at her painting. "I can't freaking paint."

"Pfft. No, that looks awesome. I can't draw swirls for my life."

She laughed loudly, "They're supposed to be circles!"

"Oh…" Wow, she's worse then I am. "I was looking at them from an angle so they looked like swirls," I lied.

"No, dude. They suck. Circles are circles from any angle."

"So, it's a little bit off, but it's easy to fix," I amended.

"Bobbie, seriously, don't worry about it. I can't paint. You can't lie or make it to class on time. We all have our flaws."

I smiled and poked fun at her dilapidated circles. That's two friends for Bobbie.

-

When we exited art, laughing about our "painted souls" Shane came galloping up to me.

"Bobbieeee!" he sang, skipping around me and trying to spin me.

"How do you keep finding my classes?" I asked in greeting. I was seriously curious. Shane would prance towards me gaily after every class.

"You tell me what class your going to during passing periods, duh. That and I stole your schedule and made myself a copy," he stated, taking a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and showing me the proof.

"That's creepy," Bear said bluntly, crossing her arms slightly.

"Olive!" Shane cried, grabbing my head and hugging it to his chest, "We do not associate with these kinds of people!" He pointed an accusing finger at Bear.

"What kinds of people?" she huffed boldly, and instead of the angelic, fairy-like teen I spent my art class with, a pissed off, attitude filled teen stood in her place.

"Why, bitches, of course!" Shane said, letting go of my head and throwing his arms in the air dramatically.

"Oh, you're hilarious." Bear rolled her eyes. Shane's mocking attitude dropped and his eyes narrowed.

"Listen, Jill, if you don't even want to pretend we don't know each other, that's fine with me, but how about you don‘t act like such a bitch, eh?"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from the man who just told Bobbie she shouldn't associate with a 'bitch' like me. Don‘t act so fucking superior."

"Her name is Olive, and--"

"Her name is Bobbie."

"And Olive and I would like it--"

"My name is Bobbie."

"Shush, Olive. Olive and I would prefer it if you didn't taint us with your horrid skank acid."

"'Skank acid'? I'm sorry. I wasn't aware we were speaking like eighth grade girls now. Should I text my friends for backup?"

"Eighth grade? I was just speaking to you at your level. And here I thought I was doing you a favor!"

I stood in between them like a lost puppy while they battled it out, shooting bitchy, quick-witted comments without even thinking. What the hell was I supposed to do? Although Bear was thin and short (probably about 5'1") she seemed to tower over Shane with her immediate retorts. Bear intimidated Shane, and it showed as he tried to match her insults with sloppy, nonsensical babblings. I saw Demetri walking down the hall through the sea of blue uniforms and I sighed in relief. Please, Demetri, save me! He caught my helpless gaze and rolled his eyes, slouching towards me at a leisurely pace with his hands in pockets. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and I could see his uniform jacket peeking out of the top, leaving him in the white button-up shirt and a loosened tie. His brown hair was a disaster, sticking up at odd angles, probably from running his hands through it every time he was awoken in class. He looked so remarkably at ease I felt like I wouldn't have to force my only two new friends into a closet and force them to shake hands.

"Hey Bobbie," he greeted, taking the spot next to me where he could watch their fight. His presence went unnoticed by the bickering teens.

He yawned and rolled his eyes after about minute. "As fun as this is, I think you're making Bobbie uncomfortable."

"Bobbie wouldn't be so uncomfortable if Shane didn't blatantly draw the line of who she can and cannot be friends with," Bear spat.

"Bull shit," Shane snorted, "The only thing making Olive uncomfortable is your personal attacks!"

"Are you guys both seriously so territorial that you're fighting over Bobbie? A fellow human being?" Demetri asked. There was a moment of silence where they both gave Demetri a "WTF" look.

"It's so cute how your girlfriend comes to your rescue," Bear snapped at Shane, jerking her thumb to Demetri, the "girlfriend."

"Oh, Jesus, This will never end," Demetri muttered, "Come on, Bobbie."

He grabbed my wrist and lead me away from the fighting teens.

"Sorry about that," Demetri mumbled, pulling me through the hallway. "Shane and Bear fight over everything. Including you, apparently."

And that is such an incredible ego boost I may just squeal.