Iris

I sat in front of my computer, staring at my screen blankly. The words on the hate mail that was on my blog barely seemed to make my brain react. I hovered over the 'answer' button, wondering if I should even try to defend myself from the person who was so blindly making accusations of how I was a "slut and stuck up bitch". No, it wouldn't matter. They don't listen, no one ever does. This anonymous face was probably someone I knew at school, trying to make me hate myself.

Like they could make me do that anymore than they already have.

I clicked the button that would delete its existence, watching as the words slowly disappeared from my screen. It was only when I heard a call from downstairs I shut off the screen and turned off my computer, grabbing my headphones and draping them around my neck. I grabbed my school bag and slipped into my shoes before heading towards my door. I made sure my door was shut tightly behind me before I headed down the hall and to the stairs. At the bottom landing I ventured to the other side of the home, finally entering the kitchen.

"Morning," I spoke, settling onto a stool at the bar. Mom nodded her reply and Dad was so deep in thought over the papers in front of him that I don't think he heard me. I looked over at the paper on top, attempting to read a small amount of the words, but my brain already began to pound. I will never understand big lawyer words. But I guess if it made Dad happy, whatever.

"Did you take your pills?" My mom asked and yet secretly scolded me, knowing I hadn't. I sighed, climbing off my seat and getting on my tippy-toes to reach the rectangular object on top of the fridge. I popped off the top to the smaller rectangle with the black 'W' on top. I shook out the three pills before returning the pill container to the top of the kitchen appliance. I dry swallowed them, sticking out my tongue and then raising it to prove I had swallowed them. My mother nodded tensely before placing a plate of French toast before my usual spot. As I settled into my seat again Dad suddenly stood, shoving his papers into his briefcase and glancing at the clock.

"I better leave or I'll be late." He kissed Mom on the cheek before kissing the top of my head affectionately. And within a blink of the eye he was out of the house and his Cadillac could be heard heading out of the driveway and down the road. I cut off a few small pieces of the toast, eating it with little interest. For once I just wish Dad would actually be home for a while. Work always had him busy and I know he tries to spend time with all of us but it was tough. When he wasn't trying to win a multimillion dollar case he was prepping for another one soon to come. Yes, I can't complain that we were financially set but it would be nice to be able to act like a fully function family of society. Soon enough Mom was looking at the clock and sighing.

"Sorry sweetie, but I have to leave, too. Early patient today," she spoke, taking off the apron to show her light blue scrub pants and black top. Mom was a doctor at the Los Angeles County Hospital. One of the best really. She could find out anything that was wrong with a person. But just like Dad, it meant she wasn't home too much. The only time I saw her anymore seemed to be the few minutes in the morning. She kissed my cheek before heading to her own vehicle, a red Mustang, and leaving in the same fashion as my father.

"I'll have a marvelous day at school. Yup, just another fantabulous day at the place they torture the souls of the young," I spoke sarcastically out loud to the open air. Of course there was no reply to my words. I sighed, slipping off my stool and shoving the breakfast I had no interest in finishing down the sinking. I flipped on the garbage disposal and patiently waited for the blades to beginning cutting at only the air in the pipes. I shut it off before rinsing off my plate and fork, putting both in the dishwasher. Glancing at the clock I decided that I might as well head for the bus stop.

I left the house and locked it with my key before pulling out my phone and trying to decide on a band. I finally settled for Paramore and focused on my surroundings as I began to get lost in the music. It was a normal day in our neighborhood on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It was busy with cars in the street and hot as all hell could make it. But of course I still wore a long sleeve shirt. I wouldn't quite be Iris without wearing clothes that didn't fit the weather. Not like it mattered much. Living in California for twelve years makes you easily ignore the heat, feeling quite at home in a long sleeve.

Soon enough I was at the bus stop, five blocks away, with only two minutes until our extremely punctual driver would pull up in the burn-your-eyes-with-how-yellow-I-am stretched limo we call a school bus. The four other kids at my stop ignored me as they always did. They were in a tight huddle, eliminating any insane hopes I could have had for joining them in their conversation.

As usual.

Soon enough the bus pulled to our stop, the circle of kids quickly clambering on as if they had been waiting for an escape from me since I was making them feel uncomfortable. Once they were gone I climbed up the small set of stairs myself, sitting in the third booth behind the driver; my usual seat.

"Hey freak, surprised you made it back today!" Some popular kid yelled from the back of the bus. "Figured you had finally snapped and ended it. It would have been a great way to start off baseball season!"

And the bus was sent in an uproar. Well, everyone from the fourth row and back. The rest of the kids from my row and forward were the "loner" kids. Laughing with them at my expense would simply turn the others onto them too. I couldn't say I blamed them but maybe a sympathetic smile once in a while would make it seem not so bad. I pretended to ignore the harsh swarm of people behind me, including the girls who kept jabbing at my head with their too long nails. I pretended my music was too loud to hear them and to will off the tears from flowing.

Yeah, it was just a normal day.

- Time Lapse -

"Iris!" I jumped at the sound of my math teacher's sharp tone. The class snickered at me as my face blushed almost as bright as my hair. Mrs. Clearbond had a very unamused look and tapped her pen on her desk, a very clear sign that she was annoyed. "Can you tell me the answer to number thirteen?"

I stared down at the untouched paper before me. We were learning all about angles. Complementary, supplementary, etc. I had really tried to pay attention but I didn't understand it at all. And, me being me, felt too embarrassed to ask for help. The class would just laugh at me anyways and make me retreat into my inner hole.

"No ma'am," I replied quietly.

"Can you tell me number five?" I knew by her face she was just torturing me now. She knew I didn't understand it at all and she basked in that fact. She wasn't always mean but she had a soft spot for ridiculing me on a daily basis. It's like she had succumbed to the childish antics that were displayed in her classes.

"No," I replied even quieter. The rest of the class was openly laughing at me. Mrs. Clearbond silenced them with a simple raise of her hand.

"Can you tell me any answer on the page?" I stayed quiet, my eyes scanning the page. Nothing seemed to stick out to me. I bowed my head, feeling my eyes pool with tears. I sniffled as quietly as possible but I could hear the excited whispers of 'she's gonna cry!' Mrs. Clearbond's voice spoke over all of the students. "Iris, can you?"

"No," I choked out. She clicked her tongue in reply.

"You're never going to get anywhere if you continue to be ignorant, Iris. You parents should feel ashamed." And just like that she continued on, ignoring me and the pain she obviously caused. I crossed my arms on the desk and buried my face in them.

My parents should be ashamed but here's the sad part, they don't care. They've never taken an interest in my schoolwork and have never had the time to show up at a parent conference, even once. They were too busy in their success to worry about whether I was succeeding or failing. Not once when I asked them for help with my work have they ever been there to do so. They were always too busy and running off to do whatever. I had years to accept this but I still hadn't done it yet.

Suddenly the bell rang for lunch, spurring each student into motion, most already packed up and abandoning the classroom. I lifted my head, wiping quickly at my eyes to make sure there were no more tears. I stood to my feet while shutting my binder, slipping it into my backpack. I pulled the straps over my shoulders as I headed to the exit which was located at the front of the classroom. Sadly the teacher's desk was right next to the promise of salvation.

"Iris." I froze all movements, standing in a position that looked more like a soldier about to go into war. I slowly turned on my heels, weary eyes looking at Mrs. Clearbond. She didn't share the same respect, too busy looking at the papers on her desk, giving the necessary nicks to lower her students' grades. "You seriously need to get your act together or you will get nowhere. I'm telling you this for your own good in hopes you'll turn this around."

I numbly nodded and quickly left. I didn't know if she was done nor did I care. I know what most people would think, You should tell someone about what she says to you! I'll tell you right now, it doesn't matter. I had told another teacher in passing and he informed me there is always that one student she does it to. I am the "lucky" kid this year. That's when he told me the whole spiel of how she's using her tough love method to get my act together. He said it helped all the kids she did it to and the principal approved.

So here I was, heading down the hallway and away from the wicked teacher. Luckily after lunch I had my computer class, a blow off class really, and music before I was gone for the day. Music was my only sanctuary in this whole damn place. Music class was considered "lame" by all the cool kids in the school. And luckily my class was full with the loners who also had no friends. It was a weird kind of therapy aside from the fact none of us really spoke to each other. It was an 'independent music class'. We just showed up, went to designated places to play our own instruments, and left when the bell rang. Hands down, my favorite class.

But first I had to deal with lunch and that was the difficult part.

- Time Lapse -

I let out a soft sigh as I stopped outside the front door of my home. I straightened out my top and slipped one backpack strap off my shoulder to make it look more casual. I noticed something float to the ground beneath me and frowned. I knelt down and picked up the small, neon green paper. It was a sticky note with "freak" scrawled in messy black Sharpie. I frowned and slip my hand upwards from my waist. I felt even more papers. I came back with at least six more notes, accusing me of some kind of name such as the first one. I sighed deeply, crumbling up the papers in my fist. When I was sure there was nothing else on my back I pushed open the door.

As I shut the door behind me I heard the sound of gunshots from deeper in the house. I flicked the lock on the door before heading to the trash can in the kitchen beyond the entrance. I opened the lid, shoving the crumbled ball to the very bottom of the barely used trash bag. Once that was done I followed the sound of the shouts that were now echoing in the house. I finally entered the entertainment room, the gunshots and curses now crystal clear. On the floor sat a very familiar black haired guy who wore a headset and was playing a video game, Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 to be more exact.

"Fuck you, you fucking campers! I will skin your face!" he shouted, re-spawning his character to storm back into the heat of battle. I dropped my backpack next to the couch before plopping down next to him, crossing my legs under me and grabbing a controller. I didn't turn it on, deciding to wait since there was only four minutes left on the match. The guy next to me looked over, sent a soft smile, and went back to yelling at the opposing team who couldn't hear him. Four minutes later and his team victorious, the man leaned back against the front of the couch smiling.

"Fucking idiots. You can't beat Trevor." I rolled my eyes as I turned on my controller, signed into my own account on the XBOX, and patiently waited as the time ticked down until Trevor and I would go against a group of eight people from anywhere in the world. "How was school Iris?"

"It was fine," I spoke, shrugging my shoulders lightly. Honestly it was the furthest thing from fine. And Trevor knew that. It was obvious by the face he gave me. I sighed, observing the green strip of light as it bounced around the controller’s center button as we waited for the game's map to load. "Clarissa's group cornered me while waiting for the bus and left notes on my back."

"That fucking girl needs to quit already. You should tell Dad. He wouldn't work with her father anymore and wouldn't invite them over anymore," Trevor pointed out to me. I shook my head in reply.

"They are company partners and good friends. It wouldn't be fair to him. It's not like her parents are cruel, just her."

"It's not fair to you." I stayed silent, maneuvering my character forward to find the enemies. Sadly Trevor, my older brother, had dragged me into these games when he got into them. I can't say I really like them but I don't hate them. They passed the time and we were both pretty fucking good. For this match, however, we were stuck with some rowdy group of guys. There were four of them plus us. Every kill was accompanied by some kind of shout from the designated killer for the two seconds we could hear them before going back to no contact. They were good but much too annoying for my tastes. I growled, stabbing a member of the other team to death with the knife that I had.

"Do they ever shut up?!" I exclaimed.

"Don't worry Iris, we only have a minute left. Once we're done we'll leave and you won't have to hear them again," Trevor chuckled.

"Better not," I murmured, getting a head shot.