They Never Meant a Word of It

School, most kids dread going to it, some enjoy it to get away from their deranged families. There are though, the rare few they detest home and school. You see, the selective few of this variety are normally labeled as such things as “emo” or “gothic”, not in a respectable way. Now if you gaze upon this specimen she has the dark look and a damp personality. No one is near her, she’s completely isolated from other teens her age. Why would she become this way? Here comes our reason, the “popular” girls.

“Just go away,” I mumbled towards the senior.

“Why should I, Clarissa?” Questioned the slim eighteen year old.

“Please?” I asked dragging my flute and piccolo closer to my body.

“Oh come on! You can do better than that!” She said shoving me down in to a puddle of mud. As her ‘crew’ walked by, they kicked up enough to get muck all over my clothes but not leave a speck on them. I sighed pathetically and got up. I placed my belongings that remained dry on the table nearby and removed as much from my person as possible. A tall slim shadow falls over me and I turn my gaze from my now brown shirt to the man before me.

“Hey Bill…” I said and returned to work.

“Hey ‘Issa,” He said with a crooked smile. “Angel over there do this?” He asked pointing to me.

I laughed as his vagueness, “To a certain extent, yeah.” My efforts resulted in a huge failure and just deserting the idea of going to school in clean clothes.

“Giving up so soon?” Adam, my other friend asked equally as muddy.

“She got you too?” I asked attempting to choke back a laugh.

“Haha,” He said quite sarcastically, “she used to like me you know!” Bill and I both opened our mouths for a comeback but instead doubled over laughing. “It’s not that funny!” Adam shouted suddenly becoming self-conscious.

“Not you!” I struggled to get out, “It’s her!” I giggled pointing towards Cathleen, the head-cheerleader, who was soaking wet with orange Gatorade.

“Oh my god!” Adam squealed out then reaching desperately for something to hold himself up. A high-pitched scream came from her direction yet another orange container was poured on her and we lost our grip on the table and seats holding us up, causing us to crash down to the ground. I wiped a few invisible tears from my eyes and attempted to refrain from more laughing fits as Bill and Adam got up. We all chuckled lightly at the scene that was developing before us and gathered our things for home base. We brushed the dry dirt off ourselves and sat at the table waiting for Mike to come around, but he showed up just as the bell rang winning me the bet, Bill then owed me lunch for a week. We rushed into the compact hallways of out high school getting shoved into lockers, on purpose and sometimes accidentally, and other people. When we finished at our lockers, we all dashed to home base together. The morning announcements went as usual, pledge, clubs, and upcoming events. As we split up for our first period class, things started to get interesting in the halls.

“Hey Clarissa,” Cathleen said shoving my head into my books and when I looked up the quarterback hit my books so they flew up and into my face knocking off my glasses. I fell back, bumped into someone, and apologized profoundly. He just smiled and handed me my glasses. I nodded and took them from him and gathered my books attempting to shove my way to class. The boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed me by the arm dragging me into the class by another entrance.

“Thanks,” I mumbled becoming exceedingly shy at the drop of a hat.

“No problem,” He smiled and went to his seat on the other side of the room. I nodded to myself, made a mental note to find out his name, and sat down. As our teacher came in the room, followed by Cathleen and the halfbacks who sat nearby this unknown boy, he began a speech about arriving on time to the class and how he shouldn’t have to usher us in when we know how to get in by ourselves. He droned on about this for a short period and I blocked him out, I didn’t care, I got here on time. The boy who helped me in the hall noticed me looking out the window and smiled waving at me and pointing to the front of the room. I tore my view from there noticing that he had moved his discussion to about how you should pay attention in class and take appropriate notes for tests and such, I smiled and laughed lightly under my breath at him. Our teacher, Mr. Boin, saw my smile.

“What’s so funny, Clarissa?” He asked placing his hands on his large hips. I chocked a little on upcoming giggles and snorts.

“Nothing…” I said moving my glace from him to the poster behind his head.

“If you say so Miss Messenger,” He said placing his hands on his desk and sitting down on his large chair and resuming his speech about the nonsense and history of World War I, which I learned about last year.

“Psst, Claire, this is from Patrick,” the girl next to me, Alyssa, whispered quickly tossing the small slip of paper onto my desk. I looked a crossed to the room and saw ‘mystery boy’ motioning to unfold the note. I smile and open it under my desk and read it silently to myself. It read:

Welcome for helping you in the hall.
-Patrick

I smiled and looked up and sent a sideways glace to Mr. Boin and mouthed “thanks” to Patrick. He smiled back and returned his gaze to the front of the room. I mentally sighed, tore my stare away, and pulled out a notebook as our teacher wrote down the important information about the two world wars on the marker board.