The High School from Hell

I hate awkward moments. I tend to ramble on to fill the silence, going on and on about the weather, trying to get them to stare at anybody but me. I hate being stared at. Lucky for me I was to pissed and shocked to say anything. And you know what I hate about boys? They are amused by the stupidest things, like torturing next door neighbors who accidentally snorted at their last name. I mean come on, any sane person would have!

But you're not sane. I'm the proof!

I hate you.

Now that's just mean.

Anyways, I'm standing at the doorway, glaring at IE(Intense Eyes), AKA Matt Silent, wishing I was anywhere else but here, I had had enough of him for one day. He grinned at me roguishly and extended his hand.

"Matt."

"Addy." I forced a smile taking his hand and releasing it quickly.

"Anyway, we hope to see you Saturday!" Yeah, whatev--- WHAT?!

"Well, that should be fun." My dad, stupid stupid, smiled at me.

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, the er... Well, our next door neighbors just invited us to a barbeque this Saturday!" He sounded generally pleased. Shiz. I know what this means.

"Haha, I'm not going." I said firmly.

"Haha, yes you are." He mocked me. See, I'm always right. Well, I'm not going out without a fight. DAMNIT. I hate rhyming.

"Dad." He looked over at me, "That was King Bee." Confusion flashed across his face before his lips shaped the letter "o".

"He didn't seem that mad to me." He shrugged. I rolled my eyes, honestly how are adults so... ignorant?

"That's because you're an unobservant moron," I grinned, "who can cook." I added.

"How did you piss him off again?"

"Did he tell you his last name?"

"No."

"It's Silent."

"Ooooh, dear." He knows me too well to even question me anymore.

"Yeah."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know what I love about drawing? It's sooo... Refreshing. Especially if you're drawing someone being brutally murdered, it's the best kind of anger management I tell you. Blood, brains... entrails. Whoever invented Artistic License was a genius. My drawing featured me killing IE in several different, macabre-like ways. Me shooting him, stabbing him, running him over with a semi. The blood.. It makes me happy. Woah, Jebesus do I have issues.

You're telling me, you don't have to live with you, it's a bit scary. Strike that, it's A LOT scary.

You again? Go away.

"It's going to be a disaster, Rex." I said to the speaker on my cell phone.

"It won't be that bad. If worst comes to worst, you can just curl up in a dark corner, cry, and slit your wrists like the Emo kid I know you are deep down inside." I snorted.

"Let's get one thing straight, you're the Emo kid, not me. I'm the sarcastic bitch. Remember?" She laughed, and I could almost hear her roll her eyes.

"The point is you're totally exaggerating."

"In the less than twelve hours I've known him, I've managed to... Let's see... Knock into him twice, make fun of his name, hit him with a dodgeball, and... oh yeah, move next door to him. I'm sure that ticked him off."

"You don't know Matt at all do you? He's not that easily angered. Amused? Yes. Angered? No. He's going to torture you because you amuse him. That's it."

"Wow. Don't I feel special." I snorted.

"Yeah, well--" She pause and I could hear her talking to somebody on her end "What? Oh shi-- I mean, crap! Addy I gotta go." That last bit was for me, in case you didn't know.

"'Kay, late."

"Bye." I hung up. God, my room is so fucked up. White and plain and gross and depressing. White makes me depressed. I smiled. Maybe I should show this to IE himself. See what he thinks of my awesome, imaginative, vision of his gruesome death.

You have far too much time on your hands.

For once, I agree with you. Now shove it.

But--

I said shove it. Now, while the annoying little voice inside my head grumbles and complains about me being a witch, I'm going to get out my color pencils and run my red one to oblivion because of all the blood on this picture. Bwahahaha.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

School. Gosh I hate school, whats the point in learning if the teachers hate us, we're distracted by hormones, and the stress eats away at us causing alcoholics, druggies, and damnstraight crazies? It's impossible I tell you. Only the strong survive, and from the statistics we're a dying breed. I hate high school, and apparently it hates me, or at least the people do. I've pissed off most of my teachers and my peers avoid me like the plague. That's what I get for being an obnoxious twit, I suppose. My second day, and I lose my way, again, to my english class. I hate getting lost. I hate asking for directions. I have far too much pride. Pride, haha, lions. NO! CLASS!! MUST. FIND. CLASS. Focus, Addy, focus!

You'll have to excuse her. She had, like, eight cups of coffee this morning.

Oh, I did not. It was four. Now... YES! I found it, I found it, la la la la la la. Do a little jig, yeah that's right. I took the same seat I did last time. This time, however, my intentions were not innocent. I just didn't care. I plunked down in my seat and waited. How is it I always get lost but always end up being early anyway? There must be some sort of worm hole in this school. I rolled my eyes. Ipod, wheeeerrreee aaaaare yoooooouuu...? I lost my ipod in my disaster of a room.

"This is the last night you'll spend alone." I sang under my breath. Singing, that's what boredom has resorted me too, singing. Sweet Jebesus, I hate school.

"Look me in the eye so I know you know, I'm everywhere you want me to be." OH shit. PLEASE, please dear GOD, tell me he didn't hear my poor excuse for singing.

"Skillet? Really?" He smirked at me. I growled at him, opening my mouth to say something---

"Oh, em, gee. You stupid little slut! MOVE. Now." Alas, Bekka has come to his rescue.

"You did not even just say 'oh em gee'. You're joking right?" I grinned evilly and looked at one of the fake blondes. "She's not serious. Is she?" I laughed, totally ignoring the fact that she called me a slut. Then, she did something totally uncalled for. She slapped me.

OH NO SHE DIDN'T.

I flicked my hair, a wolfish grin on my face, and said, "Try that again, I dare you, see what I can do to your pretty little face. " Haha, watching the blood drain from her face, so worth it.

"Ms. Attle is it? Sit down." Oooh. Burned.

"Okay class, after an emergency concering his health Mr. Barnes has decided to retire immediately. I am your substitute, Ms. Angela Cross.-" She wrote her name on the board, "-any questions? Yes.. Mr. uh... Clark."

"Does this mean we have free period."

"No. But thank you for asking." She smiled deviously, "The project scheduled for today will still be assigned." A collective groan from the class.

"Well, if you don't want to do the ten page essay on Shakespeare Mr. Barnes assigned you, there is an alternative, most of you, I assume, would rather do the essay. A play, on Romeo and Juliet. Yes, yes-" She addressed the second groan from the class, though this time more boys than girls protested, "-I know, very high school cliché. But, it's either write the essay or try out for the play. Your choice. Now, get out your books and read chapters nine through twelve. You may begin."

She seems nice.

I'd rather do the essay.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Art is like God's reprise for math. The smell of canvas and oil paints... I knew there was some reason I put up with this school. I love free hand. Painting--

Hey look it's Miss Cross!

What? Oh hey, you're right. Now shut up and don't interrupt me again. Anyway, as I was saying, painting--

She's looking at everyone's stuff. She's coming over!

SHUT UP YOU.

I can see your fourth cup of coffee is wearing off.

I hate you.

You say that alot.

"Ms. Rosch?" I looked up. Holy shiza. She's uh... Far too close. I scooted back.

"Sorry, I was just admiring your work." She smiled. My what..? Oh my painting.

"Uh... Thank... you?"

"I was wondering, after school could you see me in my office? There's something I want to ask you."

"O-okay..."

That was wierd.

You're telling me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

School's are creepy. Just plain creepy. Especially after everyone's gone home and you're wandering the halls all by yourself. Not fun I tell you, not fun at all. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

"Jebesus, Silent you scared the shit out of me." I held a hand to my chest, "What are you doing here?"

"Detention." He grinned. "What're you doing here?"

"How is that any of your business?" I snarled.

"Ms. Rosch, right on time! Mr. Silent what are you still doing here?" Ms. Cross said, smiling. HOLY SHIZNAT. How do people just pop in and out of this school? I knew there was a worm hole.

"Detention."

"Oh. Well then, move along. Ms. Rosch, with me if you please." I followed her into the classroom leaving Silent in the hallway.

"What can I do you for?" I asked clasping my hands on the desk I was sitting at. My expression one of mock interest.

"I want you to paint the scenes for Romeo and Juliet." Wow. She just gets right to the point.

"Umm... No."

"You wouldn't have to do the essay or the play and you'll get full credit." Damn. She sure can sweeten a deal.

Essay.

Or painting.

Essay.

Or painting...?

Damn me and my artistic talent.