Run, Lola, Run.

You never realize how great your best friend is when you’re suddenly faced with a desperately lousy day without them.

And with that rather sentimental opening, I am sad to admit I am now talking to myself about the dismal day ahead of me without my bestest friend. I’m slowly sinking myself into an abyssal plain of hopelessness.

Arriving just after the bell, I found the halls strangely empty. My footsteps didn’t resound all around, but rather, squeak. The bottoms wet from the still-too-much snow on the ground.

The prices I have to pay to live in Canada.

Standing at my locker, I stare blankly at the mumbly, jumbly mess of books, that box from the language arts project and the gym strip I forgot to bring home a few weeks ago.

Not knowing I really had just come really early, or just really late, I look around, hoping to find someone who had books to show me whether it was the latter or not.

Deciding to take a, ‘casual stroll’, I make sure I know what day it is [Day Two, meaning option in the morning. Meaning Aboriginal Art. Not biggie] before sauntering down the grade eight hallway, casually looking into the Aboriginal Arts room, and finding no one. Not at all helping my predicament.

Deciding I would just be geeky and arrive early to the arts classroom, I make a detour back towards the classroom and find the local arts teacher in there, I make my grand entry.

Grand entry meaning, a nice slip into the room (so blame me, I didn’t see the chunk of left over ice on the ground). Just so happening to make my entrance just as Carmen, the art instructor, looked up upon my arrival.

Laughing, she reminds me of the basic safety rules (i.e no running, no runnin in winter, no running in the school, no running in the school with wet shoes) and to be more careful next time.

Keeping a close eye on the clock, I try to hurry my way through the glass as quickly as I could. If anyone were to ever tell me gluing glass on a mosaic was fun, I will personally make them do the glass, and then shoot them.

This, my friend, was not fun.

Ending up on the desk, talking to Tori was not my idea of a time-passer but honestly, what else was there to do? Gluing or listen to how the stock market is dwindling to nothing but a little cigarette but stuck under someone’s shoe.

Looking back at the small little clock for what seems like the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, waiting for the hands to touch the 10 and the 10 so I could get out of this hell hole and free myself from such a demented torture.

Five more minutes left.

I move on to the rocks.

Four and a half more minutes later.

We start to talk about Monsters of Rock in the states.

Three minutes left.

Looking back at the clock for the sixtieth time.

Still three minutes left.

Still talking about Monsters of Rock in the states.

One minute left.

Cleaning up everything in a rather rushed form.

Zero minutes left.

Need to get the hell out of this classroom as soon as humanly possible.

Adios stupid classroom.

Everything’s basically iffy in a school this small. Who knows who’s keeping track of whom. This school was one of those small town ones, where everyone knew everything. Like who’s pregnant and who’s not. Who’s dating who (not that it isn’t obvious), who’s broken up with who.

Talk goes by a lot faster in a small school like this. Everything’s like a miniature wildfire. Just keep on adding the fuel and you’ll keep on getting the fire. Just like every other school.

Every piece of news was like world class amazing. Everything was ‘ohmaigod she slept with him!’ and ‘you suck’ and ‘ohmygodyouarehot’.

Basically, we were very, abnormal and mostly involving sports and revolving around the athletes.

Our school hierarchy depends on what sports one does, and how good at sports one is, and how many sports one does.

For instance, the most popular kids in our school are the ones who are involved with as many sports and sport-related activities as humanly possible.

And the ones who are iffy on the ladder of popularity are most likely the ones who were rather lack on activities and sports, or rather, was mediocre in any sort of sport activity.

And then there are the losers, geeks, non-populars. AKA, me and my friends.

Who, basically retard in any physically academic sport. Or just anything that involves coordination of some sort, because God knows, all we can do is Broom ball and Curling.

Maybe they should make physical education optional, then we’d have the luxury of becoming morbidly obese without the guilt of not doing anything to avoid such bodily baddies.

But I digress.

Its amazing how when one is talking to themselves in their head, they feel the need to impress oneself. By explaining fully about every subject and makin it seem as if you are the coolio and they are the baddio.

Or is that just me?

Its not as if there’s some force prying into my brain, listening to my brain voice mumbling on about this and that, and digressing into varying matters, such as gym and the physical education, which happen to be the same thing. Digressing into such matters that are really not that important. And matters that no one, including you, my dear reader, cares about.

Because who honestly cares about the social ladder of a small school in a small town no one has even heard of? Exactly. No one cares whatsoever and here I am rambling on.

Like a writer as they watch the words fast appear over the screen, who keep on typing even though they really don’t have anything else to write, or really, only writing for the sake of taking up room on a page.

Can you tell that’s what I’m doing?

But I’m digressing.