Status: Active :)
I'm No Superhero; Just Your Ordinary Freak
New Territories Equal New Battle Grounds
“No ways!” I threw my fork down. “Kris and Rob are tie. Dave and Matt don’t even feature in the equation!”
Chris threw his fork down, imitating my action perfectly. “Matt and Dave are hilarious! How can you not appreciate that?” he shook his hands for emphasis. His eyes were wide, his glasses no longer on his face but on the table. Turns out he only needs them for like long distance and stuff. Who knew?
“Of course I appreciate that!” I threw my arms down in exasperation. “But they’re all in such a high league that you have to compare other things,” I tried to reason. “Like, drawing quality, diversity in comics,” I counted off on my fingers as I watched an amused expression form across Chris’ face. “Use of explicit language, use of—”
“Okay, I get it,” Chris cut me off, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “Why Kris and Rob though?” He leaned forward and picked up his fork, and began digging into his potato salad.
“Easy,” I shrugged as I followed suit. “Kris’ characters are really cute and little, and his comics are always different. And Rob is just brilliant.” I smiled. “Plus, the Purple Shirted Eye Stabber is amazing.” I laughed and Chris joined in, nodding vigorously.
“Wow, Leila,” Chris chewed thoughtfully on his burger, his potato salad long gone. “Aren’t we a bunch of nerds?” he arched an eyebrow and grinned approvingly.
I laughed at his expression. “Why do you have to put me in a box?” I looked at him through my lashes and watched his face tint slightly pink. Yup, I still had it.
“I didn’t mean to,” he was suddenly that awkward boy from earlier. “Just, you know…” he trailed off, averting his gaze.
“No, I don’t,” I replied a little too sharply. The startled look on his face told me I had made a mistake. “Sorry, I’m just so over this school and being shoved into a little box.” I rested my head in my hand and stared at him. “I mean, what, just because you’re an art major, you get written off as a person of importance?” I pointed my fork at him accusingly. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
Chris shrugged at me wistfully, but said nothing.
“Maybe we’re just, ya know, people,” I carried on eating, not bothering to look up. Was it legal for them to sell us this meat? I’m sure it had lived out its expiry date.
“It feels good just being a person,” I heard Chris say softly.
I looked up and smiled at his abashed face. He looked uncomfortably comfortable. It felt good making someone’s day just that much better.
We both slowly went back to our food.
“So, tell me what you like best about art,” I asked.
<3
“Class, I’d like you to meet Leila Abrams. I hope you will all make her feel welcome. Leila, please tell us something about yourself,” the teacher droned from her desk, visibly uninterested as she picked at her nails.
I stood up, already used to the protocol. “Hi, I’m Leila,” I said as quickly as possible, without trying to sound too eager or nervous. “I’m sixteen, yes, I know I’m pretty young to be graduating in a couple months, har har,” satire dripped from my voice. “Um, my favourite colour is green and I hate giving speeches.” I sat down, but already knew what came next.
“Yes, Mr. Turnel,” the teacher boomed from her desk.
“Uh, yeah,” a boy smiled wickedly at me from across the class. By the looks of the people that sat around him, whatever he was about to say was supposed to sound good. “Did you like, sleep with all your teachers to get up a few grades?” his friends snickered in approval.
I twisted in my chair and squared my shoulders. “No, I just care about my future. Not everyone wants our careers to end at the age of thirty,” I narrowed my eyes, “assuming some of us even get the opportunity.”
“Alrighty then,” the teacher finally stood up, trying to break the tension that was evident on the class’ faces. “Well, I’m Mrs. Luther, and welcome to Physics. I hope you enjoy the remaining semesters.”
She began to babble on about essential equations, which I had learned long before, so I zoned out. School was becoming so unnecessarily boring and repetitive.
“You don’t just do that,” someone hissed at me.
I turned around to the culprit that had drawn me from my thoughts. “Excuse me?” I asked a little too rudely.
The girl looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You don’t talk to the star quarter back like that.”
I stared at her for a moment, and then reached for my new physics text book, opening up to the index.
“What are you doing?” she sounded appalled. “What the hell are you looking for?”
“A damn to give.”
Chris threw his fork down, imitating my action perfectly. “Matt and Dave are hilarious! How can you not appreciate that?” he shook his hands for emphasis. His eyes were wide, his glasses no longer on his face but on the table. Turns out he only needs them for like long distance and stuff. Who knew?
“Of course I appreciate that!” I threw my arms down in exasperation. “But they’re all in such a high league that you have to compare other things,” I tried to reason. “Like, drawing quality, diversity in comics,” I counted off on my fingers as I watched an amused expression form across Chris’ face. “Use of explicit language, use of—”
“Okay, I get it,” Chris cut me off, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “Why Kris and Rob though?” He leaned forward and picked up his fork, and began digging into his potato salad.
“Easy,” I shrugged as I followed suit. “Kris’ characters are really cute and little, and his comics are always different. And Rob is just brilliant.” I smiled. “Plus, the Purple Shirted Eye Stabber is amazing.” I laughed and Chris joined in, nodding vigorously.
“Wow, Leila,” Chris chewed thoughtfully on his burger, his potato salad long gone. “Aren’t we a bunch of nerds?” he arched an eyebrow and grinned approvingly.
I laughed at his expression. “Why do you have to put me in a box?” I looked at him through my lashes and watched his face tint slightly pink. Yup, I still had it.
“I didn’t mean to,” he was suddenly that awkward boy from earlier. “Just, you know…” he trailed off, averting his gaze.
“No, I don’t,” I replied a little too sharply. The startled look on his face told me I had made a mistake. “Sorry, I’m just so over this school and being shoved into a little box.” I rested my head in my hand and stared at him. “I mean, what, just because you’re an art major, you get written off as a person of importance?” I pointed my fork at him accusingly. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
Chris shrugged at me wistfully, but said nothing.
“Maybe we’re just, ya know, people,” I carried on eating, not bothering to look up. Was it legal for them to sell us this meat? I’m sure it had lived out its expiry date.
“It feels good just being a person,” I heard Chris say softly.
I looked up and smiled at his abashed face. He looked uncomfortably comfortable. It felt good making someone’s day just that much better.
We both slowly went back to our food.
“So, tell me what you like best about art,” I asked.
<3
“Class, I’d like you to meet Leila Abrams. I hope you will all make her feel welcome. Leila, please tell us something about yourself,” the teacher droned from her desk, visibly uninterested as she picked at her nails.
I stood up, already used to the protocol. “Hi, I’m Leila,” I said as quickly as possible, without trying to sound too eager or nervous. “I’m sixteen, yes, I know I’m pretty young to be graduating in a couple months, har har,” satire dripped from my voice. “Um, my favourite colour is green and I hate giving speeches.” I sat down, but already knew what came next.
“Yes, Mr. Turnel,” the teacher boomed from her desk.
“Uh, yeah,” a boy smiled wickedly at me from across the class. By the looks of the people that sat around him, whatever he was about to say was supposed to sound good. “Did you like, sleep with all your teachers to get up a few grades?” his friends snickered in approval.
I twisted in my chair and squared my shoulders. “No, I just care about my future. Not everyone wants our careers to end at the age of thirty,” I narrowed my eyes, “assuming some of us even get the opportunity.”
“Alrighty then,” the teacher finally stood up, trying to break the tension that was evident on the class’ faces. “Well, I’m Mrs. Luther, and welcome to Physics. I hope you enjoy the remaining semesters.”
She began to babble on about essential equations, which I had learned long before, so I zoned out. School was becoming so unnecessarily boring and repetitive.
“You don’t just do that,” someone hissed at me.
I turned around to the culprit that had drawn me from my thoughts. “Excuse me?” I asked a little too rudely.
The girl looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You don’t talk to the star quarter back like that.”
I stared at her for a moment, and then reached for my new physics text book, opening up to the index.
“What are you doing?” she sounded appalled. “What the hell are you looking for?”
“A damn to give.”
♠ ♠ ♠
:)