SORROW

"Justice is not served here"

Justice Secondary School.

"Where We Mould Young Teenagers To Serve Justice In The Hands Of The Lord ".

Just BEAUTIFUL!

But incredibly fake.

I twisted a ring that my late dad gave me- his engagement ring to my mother to me, around my raw ring finger.

Is, or rather, was it really that wonderful to get married?

I stared at the ring, inserting it onto my finger and removing it consistently.

A chair sailed through the air and slammed into my table, spurring it sidewards, breaking my chain of thoughts.

I jumped, the ring spiraling from my fingers and falling to the floor with a bling.

I stood up and glared at the person who threw the chair with my blazing angry eyes.

It was Luke, the stupidest boy in the world. He loved hair gel, and he never left the house without it being slicked into his oily blond hair. He looked... okay, I guess, but he had a crooked nose for who knows why.

"Shitty Joy!" he exclaimed, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth as he barked. "Why is your chair blocking my target range! Fack off!" he flicked his wrist at me, shooing me away. 

The side of my mouth twitched. How dare he do that?

I was about to interject when a suave and thick voice helped me say what I was thinking.

"Get off 'er, Luke! Don't blame Joy juz 'cause your aim is bad!" Kyle laughed, slapping his thigh as he perched on a random table.

Luke pouted as good as a two metre tall giant could and picked up the chair, blowing him a raspberry.

I glared at Luke as he punched Kyle in the stomach and crouched down to scour the floor for the ring. I could not bear to lose the ring.

Stupid Luke! Stupid Kyle! Stupid boy bullies of the class! I did not care if Kyle saved me or not, I was angry that they picked on me in the first place. The way Kyle interjected did not make me feel better. It seemed that he thought that I was weak and could not stand up for myself.

Ah! 

I spotted the silver ring from under the table and grabbed it, squeezing it into the palm of my hand. 

I've gotta stand up for myself. This 'Justice' School serves no justice.

The name masks up what injustice there is in this school. What is this? Is this a school that young rebels and gangsters aspire to go to?

The moment I stepped into the school, wearing the school uniform that sports a really short brown checkered brown shirt and shirt sleeves, this was the first lesson I learned.

"Are you bullied? 

Oh, we can't do anything to help you. Justice is not served in this school."

That could be the Principal's favourite quote and should be written on a plaque in the Great Hall.