Pull out All the Stops

I stalked into school with a nice cold cup of Iced Coffee, the outside of it dripping with condensation.

How’d I get it, you ask? I made Glenn get his lazy ass up this morning, find me a Dunkin Donuts and buy me one. And then he had to drop me at school.

I get cravings, okay? And when I get them – they need to be satisfied as quick as they happen.

Or else I’m not happy.
…You don’t wanna see that happen.

The bell before the late bell rang as I finished at my locker, taking a sip from my straw. I tossed my bag in and slammed the rusty thing closed, ready to head to first period.

But when I turned around, I bumped into someone.
Dear god, why?

“What’s the story, morning glory?” He said, grinning.

“…You actually had the balls to quote Oasis to me this early in the morning?”

“I actually like Brit-pop, okay? And you know what else, I don’t think ‘Wonderwall’ was their best work…”

“Listen Frank,” I hissed. “As wonderful as this conversation is, I have to get to-”

A shrilly noise rang out, a noise I recognized as the bell.
I glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Frank said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t do anything, and I definitely wasn’t stopping you.”

I surveyed his outfit, catching a glimpse at his white t-shirt, littered with a funky black design.
Dark jeans.
Skater shoes.
Misfits messenger bag.

I almost snorted.

“Sure,” I muttered. “Can I go now?”

“Go where?” Frank asked. “We’re going to the same place.”

“How would you know?” I snapped, taking another sip and deciding to start walking.

It’s not like I really cared if I was late or on time to first period. And I was already late when I stepped into the school, noticing the lack of students running around the main hallway.

Plus, I’m Amber Ann Anzalone – I don’t care about anything.

“Oh, I don’t know…Maybe cause I saw you in class the first day. And yesterday,” Frank wondered aloud.

I would clap for him, but I was holding a cup.

I proceeded to ignore him, something I learned I do a lot when it comes to Frank – and went up the stairs to the second floor. I heard Frank shuffling behind me, his knees hitting his messenger bag loudly.

“Hey Amber?” Frank called. “Where’s your bag?”

“Didn’t you just stalk me at my locker?” I snapped. “Didn’t you watch me put it inside?”

“Well yeah,” Frank said sheepishly as we got to the 2nd floor. “But why?”

“Don’t need books.”

“Why?” Jesus, he was like a freakin’ kid.

“It all goes up here,” I said simply, trying not to get angrier with him, and tapped the side of my head.

“Now that,” Frank said. “Is bullshit.”

“Aw, if only I cared,” I muttered, and I walked straight into Sociology/Psychology – not caring at all about the dirty look Mr. Brain-dead teacher was giving me.

----

I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, ready to pick a new song to listen to.

This stupid day had finally ended, and I was ready to go home. Instead of going to my locker to get my bag, I decided to exit out of the front entrance of the Science building.

It’s not like I needed books, or a bag anyway. I always did my work, because I remembered the assignment. Occasionally, if I were in the mood, I’d carry a notebook to jot down certain notes and write and doodle. But other than that, what was the point? They’d give me a packet, or a paper and I’d have to carry it all week, until we moved onto the next lesson.

So why stress my back out by carrying all 7 packets, 2 papers, one notebook and a ‘planner’ for guidance?

I could just carry a pen and be happy.

I stood off to the side, out of people’s way as I selected some old school Metallica to listen to. ‘Battery’ was first on my list and I turned it up and walked away.

I had to cross the football field to get to the main road that heads towards my house.

It was rather annoying how I don’t have a car to get me to and from school.

Glenn and me were gonna have to have a talk about that.

Even over my music, I heard a loud yelling coming from a dark corner I was approaching. I glanced over to it and kept going.

When I got closer I could see three boys yelling at what must’ve been another one in front of them. Then I saw one of them punch the kid continuously, causing him to drop a bag.

That Misfits messenger bag.
My heart stopped.

Why? I don’t know – it just did. I wasn’t gonna ask questions, so I don’t know why you did.

“Oye!” I yelled. One of the kids turned to look at me as I pulled out one of my headphones and headed towards them. He tapped the other two who were still beating on the kid and when they turned and saw me, dropped him. Then they all ran.

Why would I do that, you ask?
‘Cause I can whoop ass when asked to, okay?
If those pansies had tried messing with Amber Ann Anzalone – they might not have made it home.

They did themselves a favor.

I hurried over to the heap of bones and skin on the ground, struggling to stand. I grabbed one arm and pulled, using the other to stabilize them. After they grabbed their bag off the ground, I tossed his arm over my shoulder and led him towards the road.

“C’mon Frank,” I mumbled.

He coughed and sputtered, attempting to speak. But I could see his lip getting fatter with each spit, so I patted him on the back.

“Tell me later,” I said firmly, looking straight into his hazel eyes.