Teen Rebellion // S.R. ✓

CHAPTER TEN

(warnings: mentions of marijuana, alcohol consumption, cocaine, attempted sexual assault, violence)*

"Your cuts are healing up pretty nicely."

"It's been four days," you whisper, looking away from the large projector screen.

"Question, Miss, why are we watching A Christmas Carol? It's the fourth of November," Sunny asks loudly, enough for Mrs. Dunning's to hear over the speakers.

"Yeah but still, you've been using that ointment, right?" Spencer continues, leaning closer in to you.

"Yeah," you respond.

Mrs. Dunning's pauses the video and looks over at Sunny, her young face turning scrunching together. You may not fully see her through the darkness, but the small lava lamp on the corner of her desks illuminates just enough. "Is there something wrong with the play, Sunny? Have you even been paying attention?"

Students turn in their chairs, looking over at Sunny who's sitting right next to you. It's quite embarrassing having everyone look in your direction. "I'm just saying. It was just Halloween and we weren't able to see a play because The Rocky Horror Picture Show was too 'inappropriate.'"

Mrs. Dunning's sighs. "Sunny, I wish I could have played that musical for you guys, but I wasn't allowed to by Mr. Rossi. You know that. You can watch that on your own time."

"Well Rossi can su-"

"Sunny, I can hear you. Now if you don't want to watch the play, you can get on your phone or do whatever you want. This won't have a quiz, I'm just playing it because it's Friday and I didn't feel like making any lesson plans," she states, returning to her computer and pressing the play button.

You look at Sunny, staring blankly at him. He's caused a scene for something so miniscule. He shouldn't have said anything, but Sunny is Sunny and he can never keep his mouth shut for more than ten minutes at a time.

"I wanted to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show," he murmurs, his eyes wide as if he's asking: "what did I do?"

You shake your head and avert your attention back to the screen, watching as the lights flicker different colors, a "ghost" appearing on the screen. You've seen this play multiple times, Penelope forcing you to almost four times each year. It's almost always the same one, but sometimes she'll play one from a different state at a different theater.

After watching so many times, rather than loving it more and more, you've grown tired of it. You could write a paper on the play and state every small detail that happens throughout. How Scrooge either has a niece or nephew- isn't always the same in each production- how Scrooge anonymously sent the Cratchits a turkey, why he did it, how he felt, how the family felt, and your opinion on the act.

And you have- written a detailed paper. That's probably why Mrs. Dunning loves you so much. She has the papers taped next to one another in chronological order near her wall of musical posters.

After a few minutes of watching the play, your eyes grow tired and your body does as well. You've been staring at the screen for so long to distract yourself from the cramping slowly killing you, but now you're becoming more aware of it.

You scoot your chair over to Spencer and lean your head on his shoulder, clutching your stomach gently. Spencer leans his head on top of yours and places his hand on your thigh, rubbing over your covered skin.

"I'll wake you up when it's time to go," he whispers in a soothing tone, running his hand up and down, squeezing on your thigh every now and then.

You nod, humming a response. You allow your eyes to fully close, the sound around you dimming down so now you can only hear the slight yelling of the actors. Your mind's thoughts begin to slow down and your dreams begin to pick up shortly after.