Weeds

September 4

Right. Sorry. It’s been two weeks since I’ve even cracked the cover of this thing. Again, sorry. (Wait, why am I apologizing? The only one that’s ever going to be reading this is me and what do I care?)

Anyway, if you’re drawing conclusions, meaning actually using your brain, then, first, I congratulate you. Second, you’re probably realizing that today was my First Day Of School. You are correct. The day started out bad: Migraine. Lil brother. Missed bus. You get the picture. I don’t even have to mention the screaming, the fits, the threats to get an attitude adjustment…Or Else!!

So, after that peachy wake-up call, things got worse. Remember when I mentioned the city I now live in? Big, sunny, on-the-beach, and also the school I was going to? Well, I was right. Like, extremely right. Only I missed one crucial factor: Caleb-High-School-Home-Of-The-Dolphins breeds not only shallow Barbies, but also the next generation of Oscar and Nobel Peace Prizewinners, CEO-wannabes, and Presidents. That’s right. Not a single garbage man or mechanic in the lot of them. Meaning, basically, no fun. Oh, and you know that means that there’s no one there like me. I’m a loner in the worst sense. I’m the only slacker/realist/cynic/mope-ish teenager-with-a-touch-of-rebellion.

Fun.

Just walking up to the freaking building was a nightmare. I drew stares. Yeah, I actually drew stares. I wanted to tell them to back off. To take a picture, it’ll last longer. To BITE ME. But I was rendered speechless.

“Chains are against the dress code,” This irritating, high-pitch, fingernails-on-a-chalkboard, shivers-up-your-spine voice spoke up from behind me.

I turned around and came face-to-forehead with a midget. Not even kidding. (Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration.) She was a pixie. Or a water sprite. She had all the characteristics: big blue eyes, a petite body, and that over-sweetness that makes your teeth rot out. Oh, and you’ve heard about the belief that such creatures are so tiny they can only feel one emotion at a time? Yeah, she had that, too.

“I’m Amanda,” she said, holding out a hand, a bright smile on her face.

I blinked, my eyes watering from the sheer light spilling out from this girl’s every facet.
Have I mentioned that I hate light?

Needless to say, I didn’t take the girl’s hand.

The smile on her face didn’t even falter. She was only able to feel one emotion at a time, I swear!

“Like I said, chains are against the dress code.” She pointed at my hip.

Instinctively, I looked down. The chain of my wallet. My life-saver, without which I’d have lost my driver’s license years ago. That’s what she was pointing at.

“You might want to get rid of it before a teacher sees it,” Amanda went on. “They’ll take it.” Then she went and rambled on and on about how she just couldn’t understand how people actually thought chains were ‘in’ when it was sooo obvious that…

DOT. DOT. DOT.

Like I cared.

Needless to say, I ignored her, turning around pointedly and walking up to the front doors of the building.

Needless to say, she ignored the fact that I was trying to ignore her and followed, never shutting up even to breathe.

I gritted my teeth. Coming up to a shiny glass door, I pulled it open, then yanked it shut behind me, overpowering the mechanics that made it shut slowly. Yeah, I slammed the door in Amanda’s bright, perky little face.

Bwahaha.

I passed more stares and whispers in the halls, but no one else spoke to me until I’d gone to my locker (which is in the art wing) and arrived in my first class: Biology I. (I hope we aren’t going to dissect cats. I love cats.)

I was afraid the Teacher would make me stand in front of the room and introduce myself. I mean, I know it was the first day of school for everyone, but already it was obvious that all these kids had known each other for years. But for some reason, she didn’t force that embarrassment on me. I don’t know why.

Oh, wait, yes I do. She was about to…until she actually saw me. Her eyes roamed over my chosen outfit and her mouth tightened.

Bitch.

I waited, expecting the woman to march me off to the principal’s office for my chain (ten minutes into the new year and already in trouble; the sad thing is, my mother wouldn’t even be surprised), but the lady said nothing. To be honest, I think she was too busy looking at my shirt…or what could be seen of it. I had my hoodie zipped halfway up, so most of the symbols and red splatters were covered up…by the flaming skull and rose that adorned my black hoodie, of course.

I think a blood vessel popped in the lady’s temple, I swear.

I think it goes without saying that the other kids in the room were dressed in Tommy Hilfiger and Abercrombie and Fitch and…god knows what else. The Gap? As if I know this shit.

Bor-ring.

The lady started to speak, stopped, made a face that looked as though she were trying to swallow a fresh lemon, then said “Sit down, please.”

I didn’t smile. I couldn’t. I felt no triumph because it struck me just then that even if this lady didn’t hit me, I had seven others that probably wouldn’t think twice.

I sat in the back of the room, putting as much distance between me and her as physically possible. Plus, the other kids had a harder time turning to stare at me when I was all the way back there.

Yeah, the rest of the day passed the same. No one got me in trouble for what I was wearing, or for my supposed "attitude," which was a plus. But I don’t understand that: I was a sitting duck, an easy target. Why wouldn’t anyone take the shot?

Pfft. As if it would change anything, anyway. Maybe they think I’ve learned my lesson and will go back tomorrow in ‘normal’ clothes. Nope, I’m comfortable in these, thanks. And their view of their perfect, bubbly little school?

They can shove it up their ass.