Her New Disguise is Butterflies
07
"I hate my life," I whimpered. I was sat in between Polly and Libby in our usual seats in history. Mrs Jackson had put on a crackly sounding video about some Russian bloke called Rasputin. You could feel the sound waves vibrating through the floor, that's how loud she decided to have it. As if the whole class were deaf, and as if we all wanted to know about Rasputin. It's clear we didn't. To me, history was one of those lessons that you only needed if you were destined to write history books or if you were going to be a historian. And quite frankly, I, Bliss Bradley wish to be neither.
Polly had whipped out the contents of her bag, which included nothing that she would actually need for school. She had several shades of eye shadow, a million tubes of mascara and a few eyeliner pencils, along with several bottles of the liquid variety, tubes of lipgloss and her trusty bronzing powder. She was actually writing with one of her eyeliner pencils today, since she had no pen.
"You don't hate your life, Bliss, darling, you just hate your current situation. Things will turn out okay, they always do," Polly said, she was parting my hair, attempting to put it into two plaits at either side of my head. "You have such nice hair, so much potential."
"Polly! I'm not chopping it off and selling it on Ebay, I don't care what you think," I snapped.
Mrs Jackson shot us a dirty look. "Bliss, Polly, you'll do well to be quiet, even if you don't want to learn I won't have you preventing the rest of the class from learning, are we clear?"
"Yessssssss," Polly made a hissing sound as she dragged out the 's'.
The teacher nodded and averted her gaze back to the tiny television, that was transported around the humanities department on a trolley.
"But seriously, Josh must think something of you, I mean he talked to you yesterday, right?" Polly asked in a hushed tone, as she tied one of her many hair ties around the end of the plait.
"Yeah, he did. But maybe he feels sorry for me. I mean, he clearly thinks I'm a toothpaste paper bag wearing idiot, who pretends she's sick and has a dad who needs a straight jacket and throwing in a padded cell, having AC/DC played to him to calm him down."
Libby sighed heavily from beside us. "Bliss, you'll never know if Josh does or doesn't like you if you never ask him."
"Easier said than done, Libs, I can't even string a sentence together when he's around, and I just turn to jelly or I act like a complete fool."
"Then why doesn't one of us talk to him?"
I thought about that for a moment. Sacha was a no, no. I love her to death, but seriously, she'd probably ask him if he could see himself in an intimate relationship with me, and probably ask him twenty questions about his previous girlfriends, Polly was a maybe, but she'd probably let it slip that I'd been a wreck about my idiot moments, and that my dad wouldn't let me go to the show, so then he'd think I was a baby. Libby on the other hand may be my best shot. She didn't have much experience with boys herself, but she was smart and she knew when to keep her mouth shut.
"Would you Libs?" I asked.
She nodded. "Just tell me when and where and what you want me to say. I don't wanna mess this up for you, because I don't think I can deal with the dramatics and your whining much longer."
I folded my arms as Polly finished the other plait at the other side of my head. "Elizabeth, I'm in a crisis here!"
"Bliss, shut up!" Mrs Jackson said sternly, shooting me one of her 'stern' looks.
I stuck my tounge out at her as she turned back to the television. I hated her and her stupid lesson about stupid people doing stupid things that we don't even need to know about, but we get told anyway. Tell me when in my life I'll need to know what date the Treaty of Versailles was signed? Never. Unless I'm on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Even then, I'd call Mrs Jackson, she could be my 'phone a friend' lifeline.
There was a knock on the door and Mrs Jackson motioned to whoever was looking through the tiny glass window. The door opened and a boy walked in, a paper filled plastic wallet in his hand.
"That's him that Sacha's stalking. Poor lad," Polly commented.
"So thats - " I glanced at the door to see Josh leaning in the door frame, a grin on his face and he was looking right at me.
My cheeks burned and I turned to look at the television, that was currently playing some boring reconstruction of a historic event. I heard Josh's low chuckle and then the door slammed shut and he was gone.
Polly had whipped out the contents of her bag, which included nothing that she would actually need for school. She had several shades of eye shadow, a million tubes of mascara and a few eyeliner pencils, along with several bottles of the liquid variety, tubes of lipgloss and her trusty bronzing powder. She was actually writing with one of her eyeliner pencils today, since she had no pen.
"You don't hate your life, Bliss, darling, you just hate your current situation. Things will turn out okay, they always do," Polly said, she was parting my hair, attempting to put it into two plaits at either side of my head. "You have such nice hair, so much potential."
"Polly! I'm not chopping it off and selling it on Ebay, I don't care what you think," I snapped.
Mrs Jackson shot us a dirty look. "Bliss, Polly, you'll do well to be quiet, even if you don't want to learn I won't have you preventing the rest of the class from learning, are we clear?"
"Yessssssss," Polly made a hissing sound as she dragged out the 's'.
The teacher nodded and averted her gaze back to the tiny television, that was transported around the humanities department on a trolley.
"But seriously, Josh must think something of you, I mean he talked to you yesterday, right?" Polly asked in a hushed tone, as she tied one of her many hair ties around the end of the plait.
"Yeah, he did. But maybe he feels sorry for me. I mean, he clearly thinks I'm a toothpaste paper bag wearing idiot, who pretends she's sick and has a dad who needs a straight jacket and throwing in a padded cell, having AC/DC played to him to calm him down."
Libby sighed heavily from beside us. "Bliss, you'll never know if Josh does or doesn't like you if you never ask him."
"Easier said than done, Libs, I can't even string a sentence together when he's around, and I just turn to jelly or I act like a complete fool."
"Then why doesn't one of us talk to him?"
I thought about that for a moment. Sacha was a no, no. I love her to death, but seriously, she'd probably ask him if he could see himself in an intimate relationship with me, and probably ask him twenty questions about his previous girlfriends, Polly was a maybe, but she'd probably let it slip that I'd been a wreck about my idiot moments, and that my dad wouldn't let me go to the show, so then he'd think I was a baby. Libby on the other hand may be my best shot. She didn't have much experience with boys herself, but she was smart and she knew when to keep her mouth shut.
"Would you Libs?" I asked.
She nodded. "Just tell me when and where and what you want me to say. I don't wanna mess this up for you, because I don't think I can deal with the dramatics and your whining much longer."
I folded my arms as Polly finished the other plait at the other side of my head. "Elizabeth, I'm in a crisis here!"
"Bliss, shut up!" Mrs Jackson said sternly, shooting me one of her 'stern' looks.
I stuck my tounge out at her as she turned back to the television. I hated her and her stupid lesson about stupid people doing stupid things that we don't even need to know about, but we get told anyway. Tell me when in my life I'll need to know what date the Treaty of Versailles was signed? Never. Unless I'm on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Even then, I'd call Mrs Jackson, she could be my 'phone a friend' lifeline.
There was a knock on the door and Mrs Jackson motioned to whoever was looking through the tiny glass window. The door opened and a boy walked in, a paper filled plastic wallet in his hand.
"That's him that Sacha's stalking. Poor lad," Polly commented.
"So thats - " I glanced at the door to see Josh leaning in the door frame, a grin on his face and he was looking right at me.
My cheeks burned and I turned to look at the television, that was currently playing some boring reconstruction of a historic event. I heard Josh's low chuckle and then the door slammed shut and he was gone.