My Living Nightmare

“I’ve got Homeroom, English, Study Hall, Gym and History with you today,” Sean pointed out as I went through my timetable for the day.

“Oh joy,” I said sarcastically.

“My point exactly.”

“So, where to now?”

“Room 4 for English, that’s around here.”

We walked down the hall and out into a courtyard.

As he led the way I asked the question which had been playing in my head ever since our first argument. I’d asked him once, and his answer had been less than satisfactory. I don’t know why I decided now of all times to do it, but…

“Sean, why are your moods always changing when you’re with me? I’m starting to seriously think you are bipolar,” I asked, dropping the sarcasm.

There was silence for a heartbeat, like he was trying to formulate a reply. Obviously he couldn’t, because suddenly he snapped.

“I told you, I don’t know! Why can’t you just let it go?” he barked.

“Maybe because I want a straight answer.” I retorted, aggravated at his sudden shift in moods.

“You are annoying!”

“Too bad for you, ‘coz it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

An angry silence hung in the air.

As we strode across the courtyard to our first class the first bell rang. Loitering students slung backpacks around their shoulders and started wondering off to their first period. A couple of people called out ‘hello’s to Sean and stared at me, but he didn’t stop for introductions.

Was I the only one who got the feeling Sean was angry at me for no good reason?

As we approached the classroom Sean separated himself from me. He entered, heading straight to a desk in the middle of the room. Immediately a group of cheerleaders zoomed in on him and took the seats around him, which started a chain reaction because as soon as they were seated a group of muscular guys zoned in on them and took seats around them. They had to be the rest of the football team.

That was exactly what I was afraid of.

I trekked over to a window seat at the back of the class. I threw down my bag and sat, already wanting to strangle Sean.

You’re jealous.

What are you talking about? And why can’t you just leave me alone?

You’re jealous because Sean is surrounded by a group of girls, and none of them are you.

I am not jealous; not at all!

The first sign of guilt is denial.

Ergh!

The second bell sounded and broke into my argument/conversation with my internal voice.

And yes, I know I sounded insane, so don’t bother judging me.

Students sitting on desks and daydreaming around the teacher’s table all rushed to take the seats. Two minutes later the door opened and the class hushed, all expecting the teacher to enter.
It was all for nothing though; it was only Rayne. Turns out she loved making an entrance. She walked in, oblivious that she was late, and sauntered to her desk, swaying her hips as if she were on a catwalk.

If I was not mistaken that desk was occupied a few seconds ago, and it happened to be right next to Sean’s.

Coincidence? I think not.

All the noise and chatter started up again, but even that couldn’t drone out the insistent prattle of The Queen Bee’s voice.

“Could you move your chair in? I can’t get to my desk,” a slightly bored voice intoned.

I moved my chair in before looking up, apologetic.

“Sorry,” I said, noticing that it was one of the Barbie’s asking me to move.

“It’s fine,” she replied, moving in behind me to get to her desk and settling into her chair.

“Hey, not to sound rude or anything, but aren’t you supposed to be sitting around those other Plast- uhm, I mean, cheerleaders?” I asked, nearly calling her a Barbie by association.

“By the other Plastic Barbie’s, you mean?” she shocked me by referring to them as Barbie’s. “No. If I have to sit with them I’d die of stupidity.”

I laughed, agreeing with her one hundred and one percent.

“So why were you standing with them this morning? Tory told me all of you were in the Cheerleading Squad.”

“We are… I am. It’s my sister’s fault; she blackmailed me into doing it. Apparently, if I didn’t do exactly as she pleased, I’d ruin her reputation,” she answered, shaking her platinum blonde hair out of her face with a sigh. “I still don’t see how I could make worsen it; I mean, what’s worse than a slut?” she muttered.

Placing her bag on her lap she unzipped it and took out her English textbook.

“Ouch, isn’t that a bit ruthless?” I asked, mildly curious as I got my own books, purchased the Saturday before, out.

“You tell me. Rayne’s my twin.”

Oh.

Actually, now that I knew I could look past the difference in hair color and make-up (which was caked on Rayne’s face) and see the family resemblance.

“Ah, I see.”

She cracked a smile, cocking her head to the side.

“Exactly. I’m René,” she introduced.

“Alex,” I grinned.

“I know. Rayne’s planning to do you in,” she said.

“Oh joy.”

You need to add some new words into your vocabulary; it’s becoming predictable.

Our conversation was brought to a halt then though, because a tall, well-dressed young man entered the classroom in a rush.

“Morning kids, sorry that I’m late,” he said, placing a file on his desk and putting his briefcase next to the leg of his table. “Overslept. Still a bit jetlagged, I’m afraid.”

“Jetlagged, sir?” someone in the front asked.

“Yes, I just got off a plane from South Africa yesterday afternoon, and the wife just had to visit her mother.”

That got a good laugh out of everyone.

“Bet you enjoyed that, Mr. Farrell,” a wise guy in the back row shouted out.
More laughter.

“Right, enough chatter. Turn to page 32 in your textbooks while I take roll call,” he ordered. “Melissa Adman?”

“Here.”

There was the collective flutter of pages being turned as Mr. Farrell called out names.

“Greg Peters?”

“Here.”

“Sean Rivera?”

“Present.”

“And finally, Alexandria Saunders?” the English teacher looked up expectantly.

“Here,” I said, dreading what was coming next.

“Welcome to my English class, Alexandria. Would you mind coming to the front and introducing yourself?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, prolonging it.

“Not really,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lightening up.

“Then I suppose I don’t mind,” I said, standing up and walking to the front. I stood in front of the board, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“Well, my name is Alex Saunders,” I said briefly, hoping to be sent back to my seat.

“So, Alexandria, tell us more about yourself,” Mr. Farrell said.

Curse you, Mr. Farrell!

The class broke into snickers, the loudest being Rayne. I didn’t even have to look at Sean to know he was smirking, enjoying this.

I sighed. He was going to get it.

“Okay, firstly, never call me Alexandria; it’s Alex. Anyway, I love ice-cream-”

“Yeah, it shows,” Rayne muttered, loud enough for the entire class to hear. Bitch.

I ignored her and carried on.

“-and sports, especially soccer. I support the one and only Manchester United-” this time I was interrupted by some whoops and cheers. “-and I’m also awfully obsessed with Aston Martins. I practice karate and-” I grinned evilly, looking out at the sea of kids in front of me. “-Sean over there is my boyfriend, for some insane reason, so if you girls could move away from him, that would be great, thanks,” I finished, barely able to contain my laughter at the amount of shocked faces in front of me.

René seemed to be the only one who was feeling exactly how I was; ready to laugh myself into stitches.

“I think that’s all,” I said, turning to face a very amused looking English teacher.

He nodded, allowing me to go to my seat. I walked quickly, deliberately passing Sean’s row.
“Revenge is sweet,” I told him as I walked by. He glared at me.

Unfortunately, Rayne didn’t get her revenge, as I neatly stepped over her outstretched foot. As I’ve explained to more than a few people already, I don’t do tripping, especially from murderous cheerleaders.

Myself… Now that was another story.

As I sat down Mr. Farrell spoke.

“Well, I see we’ll be having a very interesting semester…” he trailed off. “Anyhow, today we’ll recap on Idioms. Can anyone tell me what the saying, ‘the primrose path of dalliance’ means?”

“To seek only pleasure,” René answered.

“Very good, Miss Johansen, very good indeed. To seek only pleasure…I think all of you can name various politicians, leaders, and just people around you in general, who seek only pleasure.”

The class chortled as a whole.

“Rayne,” both René and I muttered under our breaths at the same time. We looked at each other and grinned. Maybe school wouldn’t be so bad after all…

“Jerry, explain the saying ‘my salad days’…”

“So you see, William Shakespeare made popular or invented hundreds of phrases in the English language that we still use today. For example, ‘Knock! Knock! Who’s there?’, most of us just know it as a start to some jokes, but it actuality originated from his play Macbeth. The same can be said about ‘In my heart of hearts’, which came from Hamlet and ‘Dead as a doornail’, which came from Henry VI Part 2…” Mr. Farrell said, his voice loud and clear in the silence of the classroom. He had a way of speaking that instantly engrossed those around him, and it certainly didn’t hurt that he was well put together, with his sandy red hair and grey eyes, tall height and chiseled frame. I swear I saw a couple of the Plastics fluttering their eyelashes at him. Pathetic.

I laid my head on my desk so that I could still take part in my and René’s conversation and not get caught because it would like I was taking notes.

“So you’re going out with Sean Rivera, yet you look like you can barely stand him,” she said, quickly taking up the same position.

“Long story,” I said, not wanting to go into the details.

Sensing my hesitation, she grinned.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to tell you, just… Not now.” And, funnily enough, it had nothing to do with the fact that Sean’s parents, and mine, had forbidden us from telling anyone, but everything to do with my inability to let loose and just wear my heart on my sleeve.

Ha-ha, that’s an idiom.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the first period.

“Who do you have for Homeroom?” René asked me as we packed up.

“October,” I said, looking down at my timetable which I had folded and kept in my pocket. “I just have to get Mr. Farrell to sign this,” I said, slinging on my bag, and approaching his desk.

“I’ll wait with you; I’ve got October too.”

We waited patiently for Mr. Farrell to take note of me. He was at his desk, preparing for his next lesson.

Finally he looked up.

“Miss Saunders, Miss Johansen, what can I do for you girls?”

“I need you to sign this form, sir,” I answered, handing him the paper.

“Okay… Now, where did I put that pen?” he said, patting his pockets.

“Sir, it’s on your ear… No, the left one,” René said helpfully.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Miss Johansen.” He quickly signed the form and handed it back to me. “I have a feeling you’re going to add some spice to this class, Alex. You might even succeed in changing Mr. Rivera… Hurry up to your Homerooms, now.”

I met up with René after my third period. It turns out I shared most of my classes. I had Homeroom with Tory, Matt, Taylor, Seth, Zach, René, Rayne, and the devil (Sean). I had Art with René and, unfortunately, Rayne, then I had French with Jamie, Matt and René. While both boys were two years older than René and I, we were both in AP classes.

“Read this,” René said, shoving her cute silver phone into my hands. The screen showed a message. It read:

Pump Saunders 4 info. See what dirt you can get on her.
Rayn:):):).

My blood boiled instantaneously. That bitch.

“Those smiley faces are very misleading,” I uttered.

“She sent it during third period. I’m not even going to try and defend her. The girl’s shallow and she knows it.”

I passed her phone back to her.

“What does she see in him?” was all I said as I fell in step with her and was led to the cafeteria.

Unbelievable. The first day at a new school and I’m already being hunted down by the cheerleaders, minus one. Over a boy who I thought was bipolar, full stop.

You know that guy who said ‘All’s fair in love and war’? Yeah, well, he was an idiot.