Status: Active; slow
Arachne
Oh, what a wonderful day
As his gold eyes pierce my gothic layer, I glance back to the bathroom. “What’s that noise in there?” he asks.
“Ohh.. nothing that your pretty self needs to know about,” I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes, stepping away from him. He’s obviously new if he doesn’t know about the long-time fights between Zoe and me, and judging by his looks, how normal he seems, he definitely isn’t a person of interest. “But, I’ll be taking my leave before the Prep Queen comes out.”
Sardonically, I give a low bow and zoom past him out into the hallway. I decide I need to find another bathroom, since those freaks took off all my make-up, leaving me exposed. Once I do, I make sure its empty before I head in, digging my emergency bag from my Jack Skellington backpack.
As I put on my make-up, think of all the things I come have done to those girls. Like hang them by their earrings, slice their tongues, or rip out their eyes and show them how ugly they are. As every hair and make-up is back in its rightful place, I peer outside, and then make a run for it, bumping into the principal. “Watch out young lady. What caught your tail on fire?”
“Oh… nothing just late for class as always,” I say, looking at him like pounds of old flesh waiting to be burned. If he notices, he doesn’t show it, but I guess that’s just from years of having to deal with me. Of course, he casts me hateful looks on a daily basis, so why shouldn’t I wish death upon him every once in a while?
“Well then, get on to class,” he says with narrowed eyes, shooing me off. ’I’m not a frickin cat,’ I think with a roll of my eyes, heading off to gym reluctantly. Usually, I skip, watching the torture from a distance, but feeling Mr. Dickhead’s eyes on me, I’m forced to actually go.
By the time I get there, I’m at least thirty minutes late, and I don’t even bother changing as I head up to the rest of the class, pretending not to notice their blatant stares as I sit promptly on the bleachers. “Night, get your butt up and give me 20 laps!” I sigh, glaring at the teacher, and I stand.
“Can’t I just do cheers like a good prep?” I ask in a sarcastic, overly enthusiastic voice, putting my hands on my hips.
“That’ll be the day, Night. Now, get out there.”
“Fine,” I grumble, going to run laps. I go slow, as always, not because I’m afraid of sweating like those stupid girls, but half to piss off our dumbass gym teachers, and half to get out of the complete 20 laps. And this…this is how my day begins.
“Ohh.. nothing that your pretty self needs to know about,” I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes, stepping away from him. He’s obviously new if he doesn’t know about the long-time fights between Zoe and me, and judging by his looks, how normal he seems, he definitely isn’t a person of interest. “But, I’ll be taking my leave before the Prep Queen comes out.”
Sardonically, I give a low bow and zoom past him out into the hallway. I decide I need to find another bathroom, since those freaks took off all my make-up, leaving me exposed. Once I do, I make sure its empty before I head in, digging my emergency bag from my Jack Skellington backpack.
As I put on my make-up, think of all the things I come have done to those girls. Like hang them by their earrings, slice their tongues, or rip out their eyes and show them how ugly they are. As every hair and make-up is back in its rightful place, I peer outside, and then make a run for it, bumping into the principal. “Watch out young lady. What caught your tail on fire?”
“Oh… nothing just late for class as always,” I say, looking at him like pounds of old flesh waiting to be burned. If he notices, he doesn’t show it, but I guess that’s just from years of having to deal with me. Of course, he casts me hateful looks on a daily basis, so why shouldn’t I wish death upon him every once in a while?
“Well then, get on to class,” he says with narrowed eyes, shooing me off. ’I’m not a frickin cat,’ I think with a roll of my eyes, heading off to gym reluctantly. Usually, I skip, watching the torture from a distance, but feeling Mr. Dickhead’s eyes on me, I’m forced to actually go.
By the time I get there, I’m at least thirty minutes late, and I don’t even bother changing as I head up to the rest of the class, pretending not to notice their blatant stares as I sit promptly on the bleachers. “Night, get your butt up and give me 20 laps!” I sigh, glaring at the teacher, and I stand.
“Can’t I just do cheers like a good prep?” I ask in a sarcastic, overly enthusiastic voice, putting my hands on my hips.
“That’ll be the day, Night. Now, get out there.”
“Fine,” I grumble, going to run laps. I go slow, as always, not because I’m afraid of sweating like those stupid girls, but half to piss off our dumbass gym teachers, and half to get out of the complete 20 laps. And this…this is how my day begins.