My anger doesn't fade even after I've cleaned myself in the bathroom, nor when I leave for my next class. The classroom falls silent the moment I step foot through the door and suddenly all eyes are on me.
I sigh at all their gazes and take a free seat in front. They must think I'm stupid.
In front of the class? You really chose to sit in the one position open to their wrath?
Yes it does seem a bit stupid, but I need to act as if nothing ever happened, and I'm still mad enough to ignore everyone's eyes.
Casually, I take out my things from my bag and place them onto the desk.
Something hits my head and I don't have to turn to know its a scrunched up piece of paper, probably with a few mean words scribbled on it. Seniors these days are so childish. Another piece of paper hits the back of my head and after, a pen.
This is going to be one long period.
•••
"I expect all twelve exercises to be done by tomorrow, is that understood?" Our AP literature teacher, Mrs Carlisle, says. "Are there any questions?"
"Yes, Mrs Carl—" Someone shoots their hand up.
"No questions? Good now get to work." She says and takes a seat on her rotating chair, ignoring the person beside me.
"Bitch." The girl mumbles and slumps into the back of her seat.
From what she's wearing I gather she's a member of the goths, but I've never seen her sit with them before, so maybe she's new?
"Yo Justice." An all too familiar delinquent calls from behind me.
I ignore it and get to work.
"Pssst! Justice!" That same fly calls again. "Come on spaghetti girl. I'd hate to be cheesy in front of everyone now."
Where should I add that dependent clause?
"Come on pickles. Tomato punch. Pasta babe."
... this should fit adequately with that phrase. Well clearly.
"Spaghetti baby, honey-cakes. Why aren't you answering? Still got sauce in your ears?"
I try my best not to react because that's exactly what he wants.
This kid is worse than Aaron himself.
If you ask me, the meaning of Simon Jones's existence is to be an utter nuisance.
His name calling gets worse the longer I prolong until I've finally had enough and decide to give in to what he wants.
Then, just as I turn, the gloomy looking girl beside me snaps back to him angrily, "shut the hell up Jones."
Simon smirks, "what's wrong vampire diaries? You got a problem?" A few strangled sounds travel across the classroom.
The girl scoffs, unimpressed, "not really, but Spongebob called. He wants his teeth back."
Simon's expression is priceless. He looks so lost and embarrassed. His friends in the back, who have been watching, burst out laughing and one pats Simon's back.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Pheonix
Teen FictionBlair Justice, aka Agent Pheonix, had only known one home all her life, which coincidentally happened to be the most secret intelligence agency in the world. Life was good for Pheonix, no scratch that - life was fricking great. She travelled underco...
