Teenaged
Chapter One
The hallways reeked of stale coffee and xerox ink and the floors were cluttered with poorly-copied fliers backing Marcus Reynolds for Student Body President. “Stupid,” I muttered, kicking a balled up one across the black and white checkerboard tile. I readjusted the straps of my book bag and pushed open the door to Mr. Meyerson’s Outspoken Opinions class, feeling my skin tighten from his overly high air conditioning.
“Hey Bonnie!” Heather called, her auburn ponytail swinging as she waved her hands at me, her chunky bracelets jingling loudly as the fell on top of each other. I smiled, brushing my bangs out of my eyes, and sat down beside her, dropping my binders noisily onto the desk. “Hey girl,” I said, grabbing a mechanical pencil out of my Perry the Platypus pencil case and flipping my binder to the first blank page, doodling the date up at the top in large, loopy script.
“So, what are you doing next weekend” she asked, smiling as Devin sat down in the desk behind her, flipping his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Hey, hey, hey!” he said, his voice going up an octave. “Nothing, really. I think Roland and I will go see a movie or something,” I said, putting my feet on Devin’s lap, “Maybe going on facebook and talking about what a fag muncher Dev over here is.”
“Oh ow, Bonnie, ow, ow!” he said, clutching his hand to his chest and feigning a heart attack. “Oh you know it’s true!” I said, kicking his knee playfully. “You know, you just might be right. That Kevin Jonas, oh he sure is dreamy,” he said, batting his eyes and sighing like a day-dreaming school girl. “Ew,” Heather said, wrinkling her nose disgustedly, “But anyways,” she said, turning her attention back to me, “Gabby and I were planning on going to the lake, you know drink some beers, listen to some music...” Heather raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yeah, ok, whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes as Mr. Meyerson walked into the classroom, plopping his coffee down on his desk and sitting heavily in his chair, making it groan and squeak under his beer belly. “So class, who wants to debate?” he asked and instantly Heather’s hand shot into the air, her elbow completely straight and her arm swinging back and forth.
“Well...I don’t know, Mr. Meyerson, but I think maybe Heather might be considering it...” I said, furrowing my eyebrows and scrunching up my nose. “Nah, she doesn't want to...” Devin said. I nodded, “Yeah, there’s no way she does. Sorry Mr. Meyerson, just, just ignore what I said,” I giggled.
“Oh shut up, Bonnie and Devin!” Heather said, sticking her tongue out childishly. “Come on Heather, get up here. And Devin, you can be her opponent, since you want to talk. Bonnie you’ll be our moderator...” he said, grabbing the plastic spray-bottle and dropping it on my desk. It was a little something I suggested: whenever one debater interrupts or name-calls another, or breaks any rule, said debater will get sprayed with water like a puppy being house-trained.
“Crap,” Devin and Heather said as I smiled devilishly, shifting my eyes oh-so innocently.
The cafeteria smelled like greasy fries and canned green beans as I made my way to the circular table by the wall of windows, holding my flower-print lunch case to my slightly bloated stomach. “Hey Bon-Bon,” Gabby said, sliding up to me with her tray of goldfish and tomato soup. “Hey Gabbs.”
“So...what’s the decision?” she asked as we sat, our backs to the rest of the cafeteria. I shrugged, keeping my eyes down, as I unzipped the bag and pulled out my sub sandwich. “Girl, you need to make a decision! Seriously, you need to get this thing all sorted out!” she said as Roland sat by me, his tray heaping with overly-greasy fries. “Ugh, get that crap away from me!” I hissed, pushing his tray as far away as I could.
“Well hello, Miss Grouchy,” he sighed, scooting down to his grease-fest. “Shut up,” I snapped, biting into my roast-beef and colby-jack. “Calm down! It’s going to be OK,” Gabby said, resting her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “You know what,” I growled, slamming my hands on the table and turning to face her. I was worried the other people in the cafeteria would stop and look, but they kept on gabbing away. “You don’t understand. It’s not you this is happening to. It’s not you who has to make a decision that affects more than just your life!”
I glared at her as I stormed away. I could hear Roland’s army boots as he followed me, forgoing his heart-attack-on-a-plate. “Bonnie! Bonnie!” he called as I ran down the hallway, shoved the front doors open, and ran to my car.
“Hey Bonnie!” Heather called, her auburn ponytail swinging as she waved her hands at me, her chunky bracelets jingling loudly as the fell on top of each other. I smiled, brushing my bangs out of my eyes, and sat down beside her, dropping my binders noisily onto the desk. “Hey girl,” I said, grabbing a mechanical pencil out of my Perry the Platypus pencil case and flipping my binder to the first blank page, doodling the date up at the top in large, loopy script.
“So, what are you doing next weekend” she asked, smiling as Devin sat down in the desk behind her, flipping his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. “Hey, hey, hey!” he said, his voice going up an octave. “Nothing, really. I think Roland and I will go see a movie or something,” I said, putting my feet on Devin’s lap, “Maybe going on facebook and talking about what a fag muncher Dev over here is.”
“Oh ow, Bonnie, ow, ow!” he said, clutching his hand to his chest and feigning a heart attack. “Oh you know it’s true!” I said, kicking his knee playfully. “You know, you just might be right. That Kevin Jonas, oh he sure is dreamy,” he said, batting his eyes and sighing like a day-dreaming school girl. “Ew,” Heather said, wrinkling her nose disgustedly, “But anyways,” she said, turning her attention back to me, “Gabby and I were planning on going to the lake, you know drink some beers, listen to some music...” Heather raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yeah, ok, whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes as Mr. Meyerson walked into the classroom, plopping his coffee down on his desk and sitting heavily in his chair, making it groan and squeak under his beer belly. “So class, who wants to debate?” he asked and instantly Heather’s hand shot into the air, her elbow completely straight and her arm swinging back and forth.
“Well...I don’t know, Mr. Meyerson, but I think maybe Heather might be considering it...” I said, furrowing my eyebrows and scrunching up my nose. “Nah, she doesn't want to...” Devin said. I nodded, “Yeah, there’s no way she does. Sorry Mr. Meyerson, just, just ignore what I said,” I giggled.
“Oh shut up, Bonnie and Devin!” Heather said, sticking her tongue out childishly. “Come on Heather, get up here. And Devin, you can be her opponent, since you want to talk. Bonnie you’ll be our moderator...” he said, grabbing the plastic spray-bottle and dropping it on my desk. It was a little something I suggested: whenever one debater interrupts or name-calls another, or breaks any rule, said debater will get sprayed with water like a puppy being house-trained.
“Crap,” Devin and Heather said as I smiled devilishly, shifting my eyes oh-so innocently.
The cafeteria smelled like greasy fries and canned green beans as I made my way to the circular table by the wall of windows, holding my flower-print lunch case to my slightly bloated stomach. “Hey Bon-Bon,” Gabby said, sliding up to me with her tray of goldfish and tomato soup. “Hey Gabbs.”
“So...what’s the decision?” she asked as we sat, our backs to the rest of the cafeteria. I shrugged, keeping my eyes down, as I unzipped the bag and pulled out my sub sandwich. “Girl, you need to make a decision! Seriously, you need to get this thing all sorted out!” she said as Roland sat by me, his tray heaping with overly-greasy fries. “Ugh, get that crap away from me!” I hissed, pushing his tray as far away as I could.
“Well hello, Miss Grouchy,” he sighed, scooting down to his grease-fest. “Shut up,” I snapped, biting into my roast-beef and colby-jack. “Calm down! It’s going to be OK,” Gabby said, resting her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “You know what,” I growled, slamming my hands on the table and turning to face her. I was worried the other people in the cafeteria would stop and look, but they kept on gabbing away. “You don’t understand. It’s not you this is happening to. It’s not you who has to make a decision that affects more than just your life!”
I glared at her as I stormed away. I could hear Roland’s army boots as he followed me, forgoing his heart-attack-on-a-plate. “Bonnie! Bonnie!” he called as I ran down the hallway, shoved the front doors open, and ran to my car.