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Screwed: Chapter 2- A Big Gray World

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Old 01-13-2010, 10:19 AM
btzneb (Offline)
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Default Screwed: Chapter 2- A Big Gray World


"Your typical high school story...with a slight bump on the middle."

One day, a smart and well-to-do fourteen year old girl named Liz finds out that she's pregnant. But the worst part of all of this is that the father of her unborn child is her arch rival, the snarky basketball jock Mark Silverman.

Along with two bewildered friends, they embark on a nine-month journey of maturity and learning the people they truly are under their stereotypical disguises.




WHERE WE LEFT OFF:

As their different summers come to an end, the characters start their second year of high school.



BLOG (TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER):
http://screwed-story.blogspot.com/


SCREWED


Chapter Two- A Big Gray World (June)


June 07, 2010
Liz:
Beep, beep! Beep, beep! Beep, beep! The alarm clock droned on and on, savouring every moment as it slowly and painfully tortures my peaceful sleep to its demise. To common simpletons, they simply choose to press the snooze button and sleep five more minutes than they're supposed to, until they realized that they accidentally pressed the stop button, and accidentally slept through half the school day. But to determined and succesful students like me, I choose to be ready and alert as soon as the clock goes down. I opened my eyes more groggily as I had hoped to be. As my eyes found the ceiling above, one sentence slipped out of my mouth, like an unstoppable cough, or vomit after drinking ten shots of tequilla. "Time to go to school". I hopped off bed, grabbed a towel from my drawer, and stepped inside my bathroom. After baring all my clothes (I feel so inappropriate while saying this), I hopped inside the shower, and bathe under the hot water. As I scrubbed parts of my body with soap, I felt a slight twinge going on inside me. Every morning in a school day, I precisely go on with my daily morning rituals in such a uniformed manner, and in order to maintain a clear mind for the day's learning, I have to clear my mind withall thought. There is of course such days that I cannot help but think thoughts of succumbing again to my peers or something academic and the like. This is one of those days. I just can't help but think...I mean, academically, I am so fully prepared for not only this day, but for the next three months as well, but socially....I'm as bare as a prehistoric caveman. I guess I've just cherished my summer so much that I forgot to prepared about the other things that happen in schoolbesides academics. I have friends of course , intellectual friends at that thank you very much,but I'm talking about the other variables that make up for the wholestudent body equation: the whores, the numbskull jocks, and most especially...HIM.



I washed over the soapy substance all over my body, and stepped out of the shower, and placed the tower well above my breasts. I stepped out of the bathroom, and from the drawer, I picked a white shirt and black jeans, or should I say, perfectly normal and clothes that states: "I'm a student who feels the need to learn and excels in doing so". I put on my clothes,and looked at myself in the mirror. I pulled out a comb from one of my dressers, and smoothed out my hair. As I combed my graceful yet proper-looking long brunette hair, my excellent mind got into thinking again. And this time, the twinge changed into something bittersweet yet...inspiring. Why should I succumb my life over those meaningless toadstools? I'm better than them, I'm better than all of them combined. I shouldn't get affected by their tactless "insults" and pranks, because I am a proud and strong woman. And besides, thirteen years from now at my batch's alumni reunion, I'll laugh at all their misfortunes, financial difficulties, and job occupation while I finally achieved my dream: the youngest CEO in history of the Weston Corporation. Oh I can't wait to see all those cheerleaders be disgusting looking hookers with three kids, while I'll laugh at the jocks' mutilated body size and their dead-end taxi jobs. Oh I can't wait to see Si-



Knock knock. Mom's voice spoke from outside the bedroom door. "Liz, honey, breakfast time", she said. "Your father's down in the dining room already". "I'm coming down in precisely thirty seconds, mom, thank you," I replied. "Alright then". Mom's sounds of footsteps grew faint and faint until I heard none. I put the comb back in the dresser, pulled out my blue headband, and placed it carefully on my head. I looked at myself. The headband definitely was the icing on the cake for my proper look. I looked ready. Ready freddy. "Here or not, here I come", I said to myself. I turned back and grabbed my brown bag from the computer chair. I already finished organizing my school things last night,so my notebooks,ballpens, and my mini PDA are properly tucked inside. I left my room, climbed downstairs, and went inside the kitchen where my parents sat waiting for me. Dad was already writing the surprise quiz he was going to give the new Juniors in his trusty planner, while Mom talked busily with her employer in the cellphone. Since I already finished telling you about my loving Dad's occupation, let me tell you about my dearest Mom's job too. She is one of the top representatives of this junkyard metal business, which meant she travelled a lot in international waters to talk buisness deals with wealthy men who wish to use the money for construction means. It's another reason why the Dawsons have such well-respected reputation in the community. Fun fact, yeah? "Good morning", I announced as I sat down in the chair. I looked at my breakfast plate. Strips of bacon with egg sunnyside up and fresh pulpy orange juice. Very very appropriate, may I say. "Morning, Elizabeth", Mom smiled at me. Dad looked up from his planner to my face, and smiled as well. "Ready for another year at school, Elizabeth? I assume you plan to surely excel in school this year?" "I couldn't be more ready, dad", I replied, while slicing the piece of bacon on my plate. "That's my girl", Dad smiled. I chewed my bacon, swallowed it, and said,"So how was the dinner last night, dad?" "I won an honourable mention award", Dad said without the slightest of surprise. Now that's a real man. Proud yet modest. "That's wonderful, dad". "Thank you, Elizabeth", Dad replied. "Though it is kind of...underwhelming. Honourable mentions in our school is merely child's play. The Schermann's Honorable Prize. Now that's a true honourable mention." The Schermann's Honorable Prize is the region's award for the person with the highest honorable status and reputation as an academic.

"You will certainly get it someday, dad".
"Hopefully so. By the way-" Dad pulled out a sheet of paper from his planner and gave it to me."-here's your schedule. I'm handing it out to you earlier so there willbe less hassle when we get to school".
I looked at the sheet of paper:



"
Student's Name: Elizabeth C. Dawson
Year Level: Sophomore

Student No.: 892021
CLASS SCHEDULE
( S.Y: 2010 - 2011 )

Time Subject Title Teacher Room No. of Days
7:40 - 8:40 Ecology Ms. Karen Tuchi 209 M-T-W-TH-F
8:45 - 9:45 Guidance Counseling Mr. Darren Ritcher 109 M-F
Computer Applications Mr. Bill Jobs 402 T-W-TH
10:00 - 10:30 RECESS M-T-W-TH-F
10:30 - 11:30 Asian History Mr. Ernest Basho 104 M-T-W-TH-F
11:35 - 12:35 Geometry Mr. Bonifacio Ravelo 303 M-T-W-TH-F
12:35 - 1:35 LUNCH M-T-W-TH-F
1:35 - 2:35 Communication Skills Mrs. Gabrielle Dilla 401 M-T-W-TH-F
2:40 - 3:40 Home Economics Mrs. Frida Sweetums 207 M
Physical Education Mr. Philip Silverman 112 T-W-TH
Club Activities F “



"And also, the first assembly will be held on the 2:40-3:40 time slot", he added.I briefly looked at the sheet of paper, and continued to eat my breakfast.Like they say, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day". After I finished eating my breakfast, me and dad both kissed mom on the cheek, and went outside. It was quite a sunny day, with the sunlight spreading all over our front lawn. I could see a couple of kids (Freshmen, to guess) walking together, talking excitedly about going to their new high school. Such uncorrupted innocence.Me and dad walked towards our driveway, and hopped in his black BMW. What can I say? Dad really wants to show class...and I could hardly blame him. Dad started up the car, and drove off. It took just a couple of minutes to get from my street to school, so there was time to relax, listen to a bit of jazz music,and review study notes. Dad never likes to talk while driving (he says it distracts him from the jazz music playing on), so it's basically a time for me to review my notes. Since class hasn't started yet, I decided to look more closely to my class schedule. Ecology, huh? Guidance Counseling? Meaningless. Then, my heart skipped a beat. I looked briefly at my dad, looking to see if he was observing me. He wasn't, he was too busy keeping his eyes on the road. I looked back at my class schedule. So does this mean-



"Here we are", said Dad. He turned a curb, and holy mackerel, the plain sight of Pebblecreek High came to view. It was a fairly big school building, with four floors. The school was constructed with red bricks and the roof was painted green. The front entrance was a big archway with a pair of big brown double doors hanging on its sides. Outside the main entrance was a big space, with red bricks covering the ground, benches scattered all around, plants on every side, and a big statue of a horse and its rider on the very center of the school. The school was already filled with kids outside, talking to their friends or just showing off with their new outfits and skating tricks. "Welcome back, Sophomore", Dad smiled at me. I smiled back. But why did I get a sense of feeling like dad gave me a chocolate ice cream covered with thorns? Dad turned the car to the school parking lot, and pulled the car over his reserved parking space. We both got out of the car, carrying our bags. Dad locked the car, then we both walked towads the main entrance. If your parent happened to be a teacher with a unique reputation, like mine, and you and your parent happened to walk to school together every morning, it is common for incoming people to look at you, and pay their respects to the teacher, and it is also common for the people to snicker at you after you passed them. But don't get affected. They're just jealous that my father happened to be a well-respected teaching figure, while their father happened to be a frycook at McDougall's.



While people were looking and snickering at us, we went inside the school, where everything seemed so busy. Kids were running around, laughing, talking to their girlfriends over by their locker, forming a line outside the restroom, etc. Dad pulled out his wallet and gave me a P500 peso bill for my lunch money. "Have a nice day, honey", he said to me, and headed straight to the faculty lounge on the right, leaving me alone in this brutal forest where nothing is safe.



I looked at my schedule again. Ecology with Ms. Karen Tuchi at Room 209. I climbed the stairs on my left, and as I stepped in the second floor hall, I stopped dead. Ten meters away from me were a couple of jocks and cheerleaders, and I could recognize some of the abusive ones, like Ronald Krazinsky and Darwaina Lopez. Thankfully, HE wasn't around, but that dosen't erase the fact that there's a couple of predatory animals a few meters away waiting to claw their way into my sensitive skin. I quickly turned the other way around and walked fast. Fortunately, they didn't notice me. I looked at the number plates on top of the doors of the hall, looking for Room 209. 203...205...207...209! Room 209's door was already open, so I went inside. There were already a couple of kids around in the room. Some I recognize, like Mike the glee club member and Allison, my fellow debate club comrade. Some, of course, I do not recognize, like a weird Korean guy sittng alone at the back of the room and a couple of talkative girls eyeing him. Allison spotted me, and shouted,"Liz!" I waved at her, and came to her. The thing about Allison is that she's really excitable. Sometimes, excitable people can be charming, but she's so excitable that it's just plain annoying. You could just imagine how she debates.



"Come on take a seat beside me here!", Allison half-shouted at me excitedly, while pointing to an empty seat on her left. I nodded and sat on the empty seat. "So how's your summer?", Allison asked me. "Well-", I started, but Allison just blabbed her excitable mouth all the way through. That's another thing about over-excitable people like Allison: they talk too much. "My summer's been great, really really great. Me and my cousins spent a lot of time together, my aunt made lots of lasagnas, I ate a lot so much that I could swear I gained ten pounds over the summer. It's a pain yeah but I'll recover. What about you? How was your summer, Liz? I heard that you were working in a public library, that's so cool. Well,is it true? Is it true?" She said this in a span of eight seconds. As my mouth opened to speak, a short,thin Asian woman walked inside the classroom, carrying a couple of books with her. Her entrance cut short to my brief (or not) conversation with Allison, since both of us immediately fell silent as she went inside. She laid the books down to the table, All of us sat down, quiet. Ms. Tuchi closed the door, and spoke with a cool calm voice:
"Welcome to Ecology. I am Ms. Karen Tuchi. But I prefer for all of you to call me Tuchi-su instead. It brings me inner zen inside as I feel absolute balance and just in my soul. Can you all say my name?"
"Good morning...Ms. Tuchi-su".
"No, no, no, boys and girls. Just Tuchi-su, not Ms. Tuchi-su".
"Good morning, Tuchi-su".
"Very good, very good", Tuchi-san closed her eyes while she smiled serenely. "That just lifts up the negative energy in this room to a...significant amount".
She sat on the chair, her eyes still half-closed, though I couldn't tell thanks to her Asian heritage.
"This year, we will learn all about Ecology. How the world turns, how animals reach zen by interacting with each other, how our environment grows to be...infinite.
Before that, can anybody tell me what ecology means?"
I immediately raised my arms up. Tuchi-san looked at me."Yes,umm?" "Liz Dawson", I said. "Okay, then what is the answer, Dawson-su?", she asked me. Dawson-su?
Really? Tuchi-su is one thing, but Dawson-su...really?
"Ecology means interaction", I answered with ease. "Interaction, in this case, means of two things: abiotic and biotic. Biotic interaction involves living things, while abiotic interaction involves non-living things".
"Very good, Dawson-su", Tuchi-su smiled at me. "Impressive indeed". Good first impression: check.
"Now class, one thing about subjects, not just Ecology, but in all subjects as well, is that not only is the whole body important, but the mind as well. The mind is where everything comes from, so Ecology must be learned first by its history. Now, Ecology comes from the Greek words-"
I raised my hands up again. "Yes, Dawson-su?", she asked. "Oikos, meaning environment, and logos, meaning discourse", I recited. "Amazing work indeed, Dawson-su", Tuchi-su said, impressed. I smiled and kept quiet again. Another point up for Liz Dawson, class."Ecology,class, was first studied by-" I was about to raise my hand again, when a girl who was dressed like a diseased whore came in the room. Her violently bright yellow striped jacket blinded my eyes a bit. "Sorry, but is this the Ecology class?", the girl asked Tuchi-su. "Indeed yes, now please take a seat and I shall continue discussing the lecture...which you already halfway missed".
Tuchi-su dosen't seem to like latecomers very much, because she gave this girl with too much mascara a frown. The girl blushed, turned around, and walked to the back in a strut-like manner. She sat down three seats behind me. Tuchi-su continued with her lecture, and I managed to answer almost every last of them. She discussed a lot about Ecology's history and interestingly, our current environmental situation as well. The moment she came in the room, it was clear she was a nature freak.. in both a good and bad way. After the lecture, she gave us an assignment due tomorrow (Research and discuss the population increase from 1900-2010 and describe its effects towards the natural environment), and dismissed us as the bell rang. I walked outside the hall with Allison by my side, talking all about her summer, and asking me how was my summer, and brings up a new topic before I utter out an answer. I pulled out the schedule from my bag. Guidance Counseling with Mr. Darren Ritcher on Room 109. I enthustically bade goodbye to Allison, and climbed downstairs. I found Room 109 easily, and slid inside. There weren't that much kids in the room,all of whom I do not know of. They were all kids who looked like they were into skateboards and stuff like that. So, I sat down in the front, and waited patiently for the teacher to arrive. Guidance Counseling. Pfft. What a joke. Sure, kids sometimes need guidane counseling, but it should just be a choice to them, not to be a prequisite to every high school student's schedules. Kids don't need to LEARN guidance counseling. There's too many important subjects to cover on and in desperate
need of time slots, unlike Guidance Counseling. Forget Calculus for all I care, I just want Guidance Counseling! Oh no, I don't want to take Health and Medicine class, I want to take up Guidance Counseling! Little did I know, that in just a few seconds, Guidance Counseling was about to get worse. Not just worse, but worse than armaggedon.



Besides the Nazis and the Ku Klux Klan, the most vile and inhuman group of people walked inside the room: the sports crowd. The jocks and the cheerleaders. High school's own version of the Joker and Harley Quinn. Two jocks and a cheerleader came in, laughing about something, and when they spotted the sight of little old me, they jeered. My heart stopped a beat. I recognized that jeer. It wasn't just any other jeer. It was a sign...the Anti-christ was with them. And there he was, stepping inside the room, looking like the devil himself was...Mark Silverman. Gah, even the mere thought of that godforsaken name makes me want to pour holy water all over my brain. He spotted me at once, like an eagle spotting a rabbit down below, and bellowed: "Well, lookie what have here. It's Dawson-no-bosom!" His horsemen laughed hysterically, like he just said one of the most funniest jokes of all humankind. Be strong Liz, I thought to myself. Don't let this foul cretin get a hold of you. Battle face, Liz, come on, battle face! I turned my anxious expression into a face that clearly states,"I couldn't care less about you, you evil Nazi".
He approached nearer and nearer towards me, and sat on the table next to mine. He pulled out an apple from his pocket and ate it, while his blood red eyes watched over me."Now, how was dear darling little Dawson's summer?", the demon asked me. "What's it to you, Silverman?", I said fiercely. "Touchy-touchy there, Dawson", he said, his expression pretending to look hurt. "I simply wanted to ask how was your summer. I mean, it's just a friend-to-friend-, wait...erase that. I meant owner-to-dog conversation basis." "You sexist freak", I looked at him, disgusted. He smirked. He reveled at the sight of my suffering. Liz,Liz,Liz, you're slowly losing the battle!, I thought to myself. You have to be strong! Don't give that humungous bonehead what he desires! Fight back! If Mark Silverman wants to play games, then let's play games.
"If you must know, Silverman", I said his last name in every disrespect. "I happened to had spent my summer working in the public library. You wouldn't know. Your tiny brain would implode once even if you step foot in that building". I heard some laughter from the unknowns (the sports group remained silent, as predicted), which meant, in basketball language, three points for Liz Dawson! But Mark remained unaffected. In fact, his vile sneer seemed to grow wider and wider. "Well I'm sorry I wouldn't bother stepping foot in the haven for immaculate virgins", Mark hit back, which earned some laughs from everyone in the room."I'm quite surprised you haven't burst into flames yet when you said 'immaculate', Silverman".
"It's better to burst into flames than to remain a virgin forever, Dawson. I'm sure you can absolutely relate to that".
"I'm sorry if I'm not one of those AIDS-ridden whores that you have sex with, Silverman".
"Speaking of sex, how do you take it, huh? Are you ashamed of yourself, Dawson? Trying to...slut out in the library, hoping for old nerdy men to take you in for a bumpy ride, but you failed to do so. Dosen't that degrade your pride? How does it feel?"



I was about to retort on what part of his body is degraded into a miniscule size, when the teacher walked in the classroom. Everybody who was looking at our battle sat in their seats, while Mark and his sports comrades sat at the back of the class. As he sat down, Mark flashed his stupid smirk at me. Oh What I would do to kick him where it hurts. But I have to let it go. My rivalry with Mark Silverman must not get clash with my academics. I won't let it, I won't succumb to it. So, I quit looking at that snarky arse, and turned my full attention back to the teacher. He looked like he was in his early 30's. He looked strangely innocent. No signs of proper authority was etched on his face. He looked clueless to his surrondings, not knowing the true horror that surronds this very school. He put down his bag on the table, and smiled to all of us in the room.
"Good morning to you all, class", he said brightly. How naive. "My name is Mr. Darren Ritcher, and I will be your guidance counselor for this year. Guidance counseling, class, is like...colors. We live in quite a confusing world, class. It's like one big gray world. Besides your parents guidance, none of us are safe in this world. We tend to...search what we can find, to hold on to, to grasp on to, something that will make this world have much more sense. The thing is, class, we never know what kind of thing we find and grasp onto in this world. There's quite a chance that you were able to grasp on to a good influence, and for that, I congratulate you". I smirked proudly. He looked to us all and changed his expression to look grave and serious. "But...almost all the time, those of us unknowing and clueless to this world most often latch onto the bad influences. And trust me, my dear students, it's something that you never never ever want to latch onto, because if one of those tentacles grab you, it takes a difficult time to make them release you from their harm. Guidance counseling, class, will offer you help and advice towards your situations, and of course, we will learn all the essentials to human life, from teenhood to adulthood. I assure you class that I will do the best that I can to help you and to teach you. Because I, class, would like to give the world to have a bit more color into it." He clapped his hands once and continued. "Now, class, before we start our first lecture, I want all of you to introduce yourselves to this class. If we want to make this class work, we need companionship, and for that, we first must be comrades with each other. Now, just say your names, your nicknames, and what you like to do most. Just as simple as that. Let's do this vertically, people. Let's start with you sir". He pointed at Mark Silverman. Oh brother, I thought to myself. Mark pointed at himself, and asked,"Me?" Yes, you dimwit! "Yes", Mr. Ritcher nodded kindly. Mark cleared his throat, stood up and spoke:"Er, my name is Mark Silverman. My friends called me Mark or Marky Mark. I like playing basketball or any sport that dosen't involve gay-ass shit". People in the classroom laughed. I scoffed. Really? All of you would laugh at that stupid remark? “Gay-ass shit"? REALLY?
"Thank you, Mr. Silverman", said Mr. Ritcher, and Mark sat down. "Next, please, you ma'am on Mr. Silverman's front". Mark and the others snorted with laughter.The girl in front of Mark said playfully,"Shut up you". She stood up, and spoke: "Hi, I'm Darwaina Lopez. My friends call me Waina. I like cheerleading". The sports group applauded and laughed. "Next!" A shady-looking guy with a moldy-looking jacket stood up."Uhhh....I'm Alcide. Call me Als...I like....uhhh...eating".
The following "Next!" went on for almost half an hour, and I was just dying. Even for a simple and idiotic question as this, I must be ready for it. I cannot be unprepared. I must make a good first impression upon the teacher. I cannot let Mark Silverman win. Oh no, they're clashing.
"Next!", called Mr. Ritcher, and I knew I was next. I stood up, and said,"Good morning Mr. Ritcher and classmates. My name is Elizabeth Carrie Dawson, but you can all call me Liz. I like learning about all fields of what is there to learn about, like English,Mathematics,World Studies-" "-and giving head", Mark chimed in. Laughter rang all around the classroom. One jock slapped Mark a high-five. "I'm sorry, Mr. Silverman, but bullying is not tolerable in my class", said Mr. Ritcher disapprovingly.
"Right, I'm sorry Mr. Ritcher", said Mark in a sarcastic tone."And I'm sorry, Ms. Dawson". He flashed me his annoying smirk once more. Mr. Ritcher hadn't even notice the sarcastic tone, because he said,"Alright, class, now let's move on to our first discussion in guidance counseling: family matters. Get your notebooks out and copy what I'll write on the board, class". A loud number of people pulling out their notebooks from their bags ensued, me included. As I wrote down what Mr. Ritcher had to say about family matters, I thought about him. How could somebody like Mr. Ritcher be a guidance counselor yet be so clueless of his surrondings? What kind of counselor is that? A counselor for the mentally retarded? And Mark Silverman...don't even start about Mark Silverman. As I wrote down words in the notebook, I began to realize that this is going to be one long gray year. No doubt about it.








Jimmy:
Thump, thump, thump..... As, I repeatedly thumped my head on the bathroom stall, I realized that I've been doing this mindless shit for thirty minutes now. I haven't gone to the cafeteria for recess. Plus, it's better out here. Quiet, cool, depressing. Just what I needed instead of some crowdy noisy place like the cafeteria, where people see you and laugh at your humiliation. The place where your pride and dignity goes down to an all time minimum. The place where evil businessmen are born and where busboys at some grimy diner are created. What an Oz.



I mean what numbnut teenager would go inside that hellhole? Seriously? I mean, to the outcasts, they know they'll be humiliated in there, but still they haven't got the brains to realize that they could just make their own recess and lunch raher than buying it at the cafeteria, so they could somewhere more significantly peaceful, like the benches outside, or for me to recommend, the boys comfort room. Sure, I didn't bring out my food, but who cares? As long as there's peace and quiet, I'm deal with it, even if I lose fifty pounds rapidly in here due to food deprivation.



As mindless old me continued to thump my head over and over again to the vandalized and dirty piece of wood, I recalled the events that occured earlier. Let's see, I woke up at six-thirty, I dressed up, and my Dad gave me and Wendy a ride to school, like he always does. Wendy ditched me as soon as she saw her annoying friends outside on the benches, so I went inside the school building alone. At an instant, like I was stuck in this Amazonian jungle, a bunch of onlookers with eyes of a half yet brains of a snail suddenly caught wind at the sight of me and either snickered or said something on their friend's tiny ear. As if my dignity wasn't already damaged enough, high school kids made it just lower for my consideration. How nice of them, right? After an extremely long and dreadful walk to the Admissions Office in order to get my timetable, I went to my new locker, stuffed my bag inside, and got my head nearly decapitated by some big passerby who happened to slammed my locker door, and laughed "accidentally". After insuring that no nerves and neck muscles were severed, I proceeded to my first class, which was Asian History.
Our teacher, some Chinese Buddhist guy whose name I suddenly forgot (it was either Fujitsu or Bunny, I dunno. Your guess is mine) called out the students name in the class with his ancient broken English accent, and when he reached my name, nobody reacted, to my surprise. Seriously, I was surprised. And I actually enjoyed the class, even though I barely listening to the shit that Fujitsu guy was talking about. I was having a rather okay morning. I thought I could expect the same for the second class and beyond that, but unfortunately, I just jinxed my luck. My second class, which was Communication Skills with some girl named Tongue, a couple of people in the class snickered as they caught the vulnerable happy sight of me, and kept giving me mysterious glances as the class went on and on. And after that, now I'm in this comfort room, bashing my head in some plank of wood like an idiot.



Should I stay in this cramped piece of space forever? Should I dare open the crooked door and continue to live out my life as a high school social outcast? The school bell's rings echoed in the comfort room. Shit, it's time for another class. I pulled out my schedule from my bag:



" Student's Name: James P. Wittington
Year Level: Sophomore
Student No.: 865212
CLASS SCHEDULE
( S.Y: 2010 - 2011 )

Time Subject Title Teacher Room No. of Days
7:40 - 8:40 Asian History Mr. Ernest Basho 205 M-T-W-TH-F

8:45 - 9:45 Communication Skills Mrs. Gabrielle Dilla 111 M-T-W-TH-F
10:00 - 10:30 RECESS M-T-W-TH-F
10:30 - 11:30 Computer Applications Mr. Bill Jobs 409 M-W-F
Physical Education Mr. Philip Silverman 112 T-TH

11:35 - 12:35 Ecology Ms. Karen Tuchi 207 M-T-W-TH-F
12:35 - 1:35 LUNCH M-T-W-TH-F
1:35 - 2:35 Geometry Mr. Al Ritmus 309 M-T-W-TH-F
2:40 - 3:40 Home Economics Mrs. Frida Sweetums 209 M
Guidance Counseling Ms. Thomas Mapother 312 T-TH
Club Acitivities F “



And Computer Applications it is then. So, Jimbo, should you stay or should you go? That you really don't know? Baby, you've got a pussy so. Oh fuck you. Argh, that's it, I don't care, I'll just fucking go to my classes, and I'll rush the fuck out of here as soon as it's dismissal. I stood up, got out of the comfort room, and found myself completely alone in the hallway. How long was I in the comfort room? I looked at my timetable again. My class was at the fourth floor. Shit, that's gonna be an exhausting climb. And it was. I gasped for breath as I jogged up to the flight of stairs that led up to the fourth floor. How in the world can Glass Onion High School can get a set of elevators and my shit for a school dosen't? Glass Onion High only has two stories, for crying out loud! I reached the fourth floor, panting, and looked around in the hallway for Room 403. I found it shortly on the left wing, and went inside. The class already started, since every last desktop computer in the room was on, and all eyes (even the teacher's) were on me. I heard some fast quiet winds of chattering and some snorting of laughter thanks two girls on the back row. The teacher, a rather tall withered-looking guy with full ream glasses turned his head on my direction, and said,"You're late, son". I'm not your son, dumbass. "Sorry sir", I apologized, my voice still panting up a bit."Got...caught up with something". Another snort of laughter. Teerrrifffic. "Alright, well you can take a seat anywhere in the class". I nodded in thanks and looked around my class. Some were looking at me, while others didn't give a damn about me. A few were squabbling to their friends about something while one or two looked at me like I was shit to their eyes. I spotted an empty row at the back, and sat at the middle. "As what I was saying, class", Mr. Jobs began. "The internet has become a revolutionary tool on what made the '00 decade what it is. It was called the Technology Generation for a valid reason. Anything, educational material, work and business productity, games,and for the guys, porn". Many laughed. I simply folded my arms and looked at the teacher with dull expression. Could I please leave now? I telephatically asked him. Apparently, this guy was telepathically retarded since I heard no response from him. "The internet seemed...innocent, in some ways, earlier then," Mr.Jobs continued. "It was simply a means of communicating with other people thousands and thousands of miles away from us. But then, along came sites like YouTube, Friendster, and Twitter, and internet has redefined its purpose. It's still communicating with other people, of course, but it has become an identity to the ones who use it. They feel like the internet has
indeed become part of their souls, and without it...they are lost". He looked around the class dramatically with his hands clasped together before continuing: "There may be some of you who might not entirely have the will to digest these thoughts in their mind" he frowned at a guy two seats in front of mine who was gazing onto space with his bloodshot eyes. "So, let's do an activity, shall we? How about we all tell everyone in the class about our favorite websites and give a brief description on what it means to them. Let's start with the latecomer at the back". He pointed his shaky finger on me. Everyone looked at me. Some were sniggering. And I knew why.
I stood up, my feet shaking with nervousness. God, I hate reciting in class, not just in the first day, but for the all the days that make up the school year. I'm just not the dude you first think who's self-esteem is high enough to let him recite in class confidently. "Ugh, my...my...", I stuttered. Some people snorted with laughter. "Yes?", Mr. Jobs asked me kindly. "Newgrounds", I slipped from my mouth. "And why?", Mr. Jobs asked. "Uh...uh...uh....uh...games", I said, and I did a might mindless thing. I imitated my hands typing fast on the keyboard in midair. People started laughing their heads off. Even Mr. Jobs was smiling. I felt my cheeks burning red. Please make me sit down now, please, please, please. "All right, thanks...gamer", Mr. Jobs said, while typing his hands in midair as well. The laughter continued. I dropped to my seat, shameful. Nice job, Jimbo. You really had them going. Seriously, the world's funniest comedian called. He said he wants his jokes back. "Next, you girl, with the pigtails", Mr.Jobs pointed to a girl with a heavy Chinese-looking pair of eyes. She stood up, and spoke in a very annoying high-pitched voice:" Hi, I'm not saying I like this site, but it's funny and just plain stupid. It's a blog called "The World According to Jimbo"-", Oh shit, oh shit, I thought to myself. Not again, not
again. "-and I'll give you a sample on why it is so." I couldn't watch, I just dropped my head to the table and hide from the upcoming embarassment that was about to haunt me. Tina the high-pitched pig cleared her throat, and recited a passage from the monitor showing my journal.
"November 7, 2009
Hey Jimbo
I don't know why everybody in my school is just too hard to understand. There's the sports people, the popular people, the nerds table, they're all highly cliched.
Why does my school have to be so unoriginal? How come it's too invaded with people with such big heads? I can never seem to find any friends in this godforsaken school
of how much frustrating I find it to be. ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!"



People laughed when she made the "Arggh" noise (probably because she sounded like a pig getting raped). I found some people chattering in their classmates' ear and pointing at my direction. Great, they're spawning new blood. "Thanks for that, Tina". Tina the pig looked like she just won an award and sat down to chat and giggle with her other farmville friends. I was left but to hide my face for the entire session. By the time the school bell rang, I dashed out of the room, leaving some of my classmates looking at me like I was crazy. They already thought I was so what's the point? I didn't know what to do next, I didn't want to go my next class, and I didn't want to face thosemorons again. There was really only one thing left to do: Go back to the bathroom stall and hide in there for the rest of the day. As I walked towards one of the fourth floor comfort rooms, I began to realize that this was a big mistake. From the distance, I saw one of the jocks from my Computer Applications class. He was standing at the side of the comfort room door, his eyes looking at the sight of little me, grin growing broadly. "Oh shit", I muttered, and I turned back, but instead, I clashed onto the chest of another jock. I dropped to the ground, and saw that there were two of them, looking at me, smiling.I heard the footsteps of the giant jock who was waiting for me at the comfort room heading towards me. The two jocks forced me to stand up, held my arms together, and made me face to the direction of the jock heading this way. The jock looked at me, growled,"Hello, freak meat" with a malicious spark in his eyes, and spat on my face. The other two who were holding my arms together guffawed loudly.





What happened next...I don't even want to talk about it. All I can say is what happened after they left the comfort room. And it's still not pretty.



I withdrew my head from the toilet bowl. My head was soaked with urine. I ran and vomitted all over the sink. After that, I frantically washed my head all over many many times, but the stench of urine still remains. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like shit. Literally. My soaking hair was just flew around places. I didn't feel the sense of remorse nor had the feeling to release my humiliation. I was humiliated, of course, but I was angry at myself and was shaking all over. "You're pathetic", I spat at the mirror, and I turned off the water from the sink.



At the same time, the comfort room door opened, and I almost jumped. Could it be those jocks returned to give me extra flushies? Wedgies? Purple nurple, perhaps? But no, the person who came in was no jock. In fact, if he was even a jock, I would have laughed my ass off. The guy was skinnier than I was. He had a very neatly done hair (combed every five minutes, I bet) which gave him the look of one of those preppy school spirit kids. He even wore a sweater vest. The guy looked at me, and his eyes widened at the grim sight. Of course, who wouldn't be taken by surprise of seeing a kid simply drenched and smelled like urine? I felt my cheeks burning with embrassment. Just go, man.Just...leave me alone to my despair.
But he didn't. Instead he smiled in a very unususal way. Not smiling out of malice or smiling out of awkwardness, but smiling out of friendliness. Weird.
"Woah-ho, what happened in here?", the smiling guy asked. He walked up next to me, and washed his hands on the sink next to mine. I looked around a bit stupidly, thanks to the mix of awkardness of humiliation burning up inside me. "Uuhh, err...nothing". "Dosen't seem like nothing, friend", the guy replied. His voice sounded....weird. His voice sounded a lot like those salesmen you see selling microwave oven on the Shopping Network. He turned off the water, and looked at me again, while drying up his hands on his sweater. I just looked at him stupidly. "Errr..." "Oh I see", he said, holding his hand up and nodding like I just made a very valid statement. "Flushies. Don't worry, friend. I got one a few months back. It happens". He smiled at me. okay, this guy is just...weird. And why does he keep smiling like that? He walked nearer to me, and held out his hand. "The name's Downer, friend", he told me, still smiling. "And yours?" I didn't take the hand.
"Uhh...Jimmy". "Jimmy, that's a nice name", he smiled, withdrawing his hand. "Listen, Jimmy, would you like to hang out with me after dismissal? We could go to my house and play some video games, watch some TV. What do you say?" Okay, this was getting more awkward. I had to find a way out of this. "Uhh...I can't...got...things to do...at home". "I see, I see", Downer nodded, as if he understood what I said clearly. "Well, if you change your mind, just call me on my cell. Here's my card". He took out a plain white calling card from his pocket and gave it to me. What kind of skinny teenager has a calling card these days? Either way, my shaky hand took it and kept it in my pocket. "I'll see you around, Jimmy". He smiled at me one last time and left the room.

Wendy:
"Just a little more puff", I said to the mirror. I had to go to the comfort room again. PE class with Coach Silverman just left my face dripping with sweat after the warm-up was over. I mean, why would anyone put a yucky subject like PE that only leaves you sweat and germs on your body? I dipped powder on the puffy furball-thingy and dibbed it more and more on my cheeks until no signs of facial moles can be seen on my face. "And done". I put the furball back in my make-up kit and put my make-up kit back in my bag. I looked at myself in the mirror. I look absolutely... wait for it...FABBY...LOUS.Fabulous. The powder certainly whitened my face significanty. My mascara looked heavy enough to showcase my wonderful blue eyes. My heart-shaped ear rings certainly put a playgirl lolita-type of thing to my appearane, plus my yellow-and-white striped jacket? Unspeakable fabulousness. I was ready to go. I smiled at my self, and gazed on my pink wrist watch. 11:39. What was my next class again? I took my timetable out of my purse.

" Student's Name: Wendy Q. Wittington Year Level: Sophomore Student No.: 865211

CLASS SCHEDULE
( S.Y: 2010 - 2011 )

Time Subject Title Teacher Room No. of Days
7:40 - 8:40 Ecology Ms. Karen Tuchi 207 M-W-F
8:45 - 9:45 Asian History Mr. Ernest Basho 302 M-T-W-TH-F
10:00 - 10:30 RECESS M-T-W-TH-F
10:30 - 11:30 Home Economics Mr. Wrigley Ernest 109 W
Physical Education Mr. Philip Silverman 112 MWF
Guidance Counseling Mr. Thomas Mapother 305 TH
11:35 - 12:35 Geometry Mr. Al Ritmus 401 M-T-W-TH-F
12:35 - 1:35 LUNCH M-T-W-TH-F
1:35 - 2:35 Communication Skills Mrs. Gabrielle Dilla 111 MTWTHF
2:40 - 3:40 Guidance Counseling Mr. Darren Ritcher 312 T
Computer Applications Mr. Bill Jobs 307 M-TH-W
Club Activities F”

Geometry. Oh noooo. My worst subject? Why? Either way, like the cool fabulous girl I am, I simply ignored this fact, and walked out of the comfort room, only to be almost slipped over by a puddle of water coming from the boys' comfort room. Ugh, they can be just so...eww. I ran to the right wing of the floor, and found Room 401.

I didn't come in the door but I pressed my ear near to it. From what I heard, The class already started, and the Geometry was now calling out the names. "Perry", he called. "Here!", yelled a boy's voice inside. "Quistina!" "Here!" I felt my jaw drop. O.M.G... Martoinette Quistina, the French exchange student is in my class! She is like one of the most beautiful and most popular girls in this school. IF I get to be friends with her (which is inevitable), then I just got myself a hot ticket to the latest Pebblecreek High parties! I almost hyperventilated at teh very thought. "Okay relax, Wends" I said to myself, while fanning my hands. You have to make a fabulous first impression, Wends, I thought to myself. You have to act not just fabulous but FABULOUS, in all capital letter glory. I have to look fabulous and I have to at fabulous. That way, when she sees fabulous old me walking about the classroom, Martoinette will think."My God, who is this beautiful gir? How come I've never seem her before? I must be BFFs with her ASAP!"
“Ricci!”
“Here!”
Okay, okay. Wends, “Wittington” isn't going to arrive in like ten years. You HAVE to think of a grand entrance right away. I practiced strutting back and forth, but had to take my heels off so I wouldn't make any disturbance, or let the people inside the room hear my fabulous heels and give me away. I carefully took them off, and placed them against the wall. One thing I knew was that I would only come inside the room the moment that geeky teacher announces my name. Then I make my entree in such a dramatic fashion that people could just freak with admiration.
“Tesla!”
“Here!”
Criss-cross,criss-cross, I walked calmly again and again, correcting any signs of imbalance, and just maintaining my perfect figure. I spotted a passingby janitor looking at me with wide eyes. Pervert.
"Vista!"
"Here!"
Oh gosh, I better get going!, I thought. I quickly took my heels, and put them on.
"Weller!"
"Here!"
Argh, the left heels was a wee too tight! I had to force them in, but be careful of ruining it.
"Wittington!"
My heart jumped a bit, that the shoe finally gave way, but...
NO!, I thought. One of the laces were severed when I forced my foot in! My shoes are ruined! Ruined! I felt like sobbing my eyes out.
"Wittington!"
That had to do later. I stood up and pushed the door open.
"Here!", I announced gracefully in tone. Surely enough peoples' heads turned at my direction. Even the teacher's eyes widen as he looked at me. Really, there's too much pedophiles in this school. I saw Martoinette sitting at the middle of the class...looking at ME! My heart almost jumped for joy. But, I found no seat even remotely close
to Martoinette's. Stupid wannabees. The only chair I found vacant was at the back, so I strutted my way towards there. Due to the hasty timing, I found my strut to be slightly wobbly and imbalanced as well. But I tried to improve the best as I could, but when I finally felt like my strut pattern improved, I already reached my seat, so I stopped and took a seat quietly. I looked at the room in front of me. Martoinette was really the only popular girl in the entire room, since the other students were just a bunch of nobodies who didn't even care about improving their social status, like those girls with super-short bubble pink colored hair with black-painted fingernails two seats beside me. They were just hideous to look at. No fashion sense at all, it's disgusting. How can those girls live with themselves?! At least Martoinette had some style. Her beautiful dirty blond hair was gracefully placed, and she was whispering with her friend. Now she knew how to work it. When those girls start asking why Martoinette and I were so close and they weren't close with me as well, I would not even think about replying to them saying that it's their own fault why they didn't even care about the way they look. Good riddance for them.

The old guy clapped his hand and started talking:"Okay now that we finished taking attendance, let's start on...Introduction to Geometry. Now guys, Geometry is actually considered an art. You know why? How do artists measure up the horizons or the figures that they paint up? By the way they angled their artwork, of course. Say one artist wants to paint a scenery with mountains and forestry and the sun rising up, like this one-" He pulled out a pretty picture from his briefcase "- he'll measure how large how big the mountains will be, and how far the sun's rays touches each mountain."

His babbles went on for like decades. I could swear that my make-up was wearing off. Oh gosh, this is taking so long. All he was babble,babble,babble, like it's just...ugh. Then, as if Mother Chanel just played one on me, he announced:
"Okay guys, let's have our first quiz!"
Many groans erupted in the classroom. Even Martionette frowned.
"Oh come on guys, it's easy, it's just gonna be about prime and composite numbers, it's easy!"
Martionette started getting her paper and pen out of her bag. This is definitely the time for me to shine, for everyone to truly notice Wendy Wittington, all-starry glory. I cleared my throat. "Can we like not have a quiz on numbers? I mean, act like a real teacher for once, darling". Everyone turned their heads on me. But no one laughed. Everybody looked at me like I was...Jimmy. The old guy frowned at me. "You know, it's just been one day, and I almost can't stand at your behavior, young lady", he snapped. "You either take the test or get out and I'll drop you out of my class". Gulp. I flashed a very weak smile, and looked at Martoinette. She was looking at me, and her friend was whsipering something to her ear, and she nodded along. Great. I took out my pen and paper at once.

After the quiz, the bell rang, and I almost ruined my heels (again) just to rush out of there. I felt like crying. That period was a disaster. Thanks to my awful teacher and socially-deprived classmates, Martoinette's gonna look down on me! Argh, I hate those people. How can they NOT get my joke? If everyone had a BRAIN, they would have all laughed at my joke, and Martoinette would have done the same. Argh, it's so unfair, unfair, unfair!

My cellphone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it. Krishna's voice came out: "Wends, we're at the cafeteria, and you won't guess...our table's almost at the center of the room!" My down-spiritedness changed. My voice shrilled with glee. "No way!", I almost shouted with excitedness. "Yeah way!", Krishna replied, also giddy. "Everyone's just loving our new outfits so much, that the B-kids offered their table to us!"
"I knew it! I always felt they wanted us to join their gang ever since last year!"
"I know, right? Anyways, come here ASAP. Jean's here with me".
"All right, sweetiepums, see you!"
"Love ya!"

Oh my gosh, I can't believe it! We're almost at the center of the table! Looks like Mother Chanel was sorry for my embarassment earlier on. I forgive you, Mother Chanel. I forgive you. I went straight to the comfort room at once to apply more mascara and make-up to my face, which took about fifteen measly minutes. After that, I was good as new. Everyone just looked at me on the way to the cafeteria.

After I climbed down the staircase, I stopped a few good steps before the cafeteria doors. This is it, Wendy. Everyone in the entire school's in that cafeteria, and they're all gonna look at you and love you.This it it. Don't screw it up like Geometry, okay?

I took a deep breath, and went inside the cafeteria.

It was a mad packhouse. Almost every Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, and Senior high school students were inside, eating their lunch, talking, and looking at the table on the near center. There they were, Jean and Krishna, my fabulous friends, looking entirely gorgeous. Jean's scrunchy blood red dress and red stockings were tops. But between you and me, Krishna was just...mindblowing. I had no idea where Krishna got that giant frame (most likely from her host parents...remember, they're naturists, and what's the difference between them and art lovers? Nothing), but she hung it inside her Indian green robes in a slanting position, like those Indian pashminas she wears all the time. They spotted me, and waved an enthusiastic yet graceful wave. I waved back, and strutted towards our table. As I walked, I felt clicks of cameras following me, and I just couldn't be any happier. It felt like I was in the red carpet premiere of some romantic comedy starring Wendy Wittington. I sat down in our table. Jean and Krishna were just smiling so broadly that they couldn't believe what was happening to them as well. We held hands and made a 'yeep' sound like what we always do when we're all excited. "Can you believe it!?", Jean said joyfully. "We're in the center of attention!" "I know!", I replied happily. "We've been stared at all this time ever since we came here", Krishna told me. "Everyone's just looking at us and flashing their cameras. We are so going to be in the school newspaper!" "Yeep!", we all cheered again. "And guess what?", Krishna said.
"What?"
"Jeremy Landons was totally staring at me a while ago!"
"No way!"
"Yes way!"
"This is so like the best first day ever!"
"I know, right?"

As we started eating (carefully, since we were all aware we were being watched by our admiring crowd), I noticed the environment around me. People were pointing at me, and were just grinning like...I brought something new in their table. I felt like they finally knew the purpose on why Wendy Wittington ever existed in this world: for their admiration and entertainment.

It didn't take long for something special to arrive once again. At the same time when I was asking Krishna how come the B-people weren't sitting with us at their table, Mother Chanel sent her angel to us once again. As I have told you before, the A-kids' table sat near the B-kids table. I noticed throughout the break that the A-kids were all looking at us with smiles and grins (something of which just brought a nuclear explosion of excitement towards us girls' spines). Now, one of them was standing up from her seat and walking towards our table. It was Charlotte Piggins, the most popular Sophomore of all Pebblecreek High. Oh my gosh, my dream had come true. She's finally hanging out with us! We were trying all our very best to restrain our giddiness and excitement as she walked closer and closer. Finally, she arrived, and looked at us with a smile. Her arm touched her perfectly curved side, and then she spoke to all three of us: "Hey,those are some...nice dresses. What were your inspiration?" "Lady Gaga", Jean replied quicker than me and Krishna did. Krishna was so excited that she shouted "Lady Gaga" loudly. People were starting to laugh. Me and Jean shot Krishna a dirty look. Her cheeks were turning red from embarassment. She had to ruin our cool. "Nice", Charlotte said, her smile growing wider and wider. "Say, you don't mind me taking a photograph of you girls, right?" She pulled an expensive-looking camera from her pocket. We all said "of course" almost at once. "That's awesome, girls", Charlotte said. She held up her camera high and focused it on us. "Don't you want to join the shot, Charlotte?", Jean asked her in a tone as if they were BFFs for years. "No, no", Charlotte said, her smile growing wider and wider, and her voice sounding a bit funny. "This picture is all about you...girls.Say cheese!" "Cheese!", we all chorused. Click! "Thanks girls", she said. "Do you want to sit with us, Charlotte?", I asked her automatically. I felt a bit ashamed after saying that. How can I talk to CHARLOTTE PIGGINS without thinking about it? I must have sounded bossy. But Charlotte didn't seem to mind. In fact, she thought it was quite a really friendly gesture, because she was giggling. "No, I should go back to my table, girls". "All right, thanks Charlotte!", Jean beamed at her. "Ta-ta", giggled Charlotte once more and walked back to her table, where her friends were gathering around her, asking what just happened. Jean, Krishna and me looked at each other, and just couldn't believe our luck. I was right all along. This was going to be the best school year EVER.


Mark:
"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah", the humongous parrot droned on and on. On and on she went, her horn-rimmed glasses almost slipping off her sharp face, but that didn't matter. Nothing else mattered. It's like time has dramatically slown down, because all I could focus on were those...sags. I could barely take my eyes off it. I may be fucking bored in this classroom, but those...those cannot be normal, those bloodsuckers under those arms of hers, waving to me and begging for my attention. "Hey Mark! Come touch my beautiful sags!", those Spongebob-deformed pair spoke to me telephatically. Not telephatically...it's more supernatural and paranormal than telepathic...the power of those sags has been here in this planet since the beginning of time, where God and Satan still had a bitchfight over who gets to sleep at the top bunk and who gets to sleep on the bottom bunk. Those sags looked like teeth God punched out of Satan's gross-out mouth. And fuck, it's trying to lure me fucking in. I tore my eyes off those saggy arms of hers (which took a great amount of effort, trust me), and looked at the blackboard behind her.

" Ms. Frida Sweetums
Home Economics Teacher "

I felt like puking. Oh fuck, I should have never found out what her name was. Now I'm gonnastart imagining those sags of hers as pastries. FUCK IT.
Okay Mark, I thought. Stop looking at Sagzilla over there. Think about something else. How about that hot chick who winked at you at Asian History? Or giving Nick Webster that sonic wedgie over the boys' comfort room? No...how about looking at your right, dumbass?

I turned my head right, and there was Charlotte, mouth widely open in shock while her eyes still hadn't escape SweetSags' power. Fuck, what I would give to put my cock inside that mouth. Look at it, wide open, begging me to put it in. Fuck, she must be a good sucker. All conservative Christian girls are. Why do you think they like lollipops when they were kids so much? For practice in later life. My eyes lowered down to stare at her perky breasts. My heart jumped. SHE WASN'T WEARING ANY BRA. I could see her tits pointing up in the air like a pair of thumbtacks. Oh sweet mother of Peter. Fuck, what I would give to take that shirt off, and suck one of those tits of hers. My fuck, I can't imagine how loud she would moan with pleasure if I did until I made her nipples wet with saliva. Fuck, she would be a good fuck. A GOOD ONE.

I felt Marky Mark slowly getting a whiplash from below. I tore my eyes off those magnificent breasts of Charlotte Piggins, and looked at the blackboard (while trying to ignore Sweetsags' gaze at the same time). I need to tame Marky Mark. And I mean tame it immediately. I can't just stare at those tits of hers and not do anything about it like some desperate 14 year old loser. Dammit, I never even got to fucking SECOND BASE with her yet! And I can't let this stay for long, I'm fucking Mark Silverman, for the love of all saint's fuck. I can do this, even if we're at this fucking class. Just touch that sweet girl's tits. I can do this. Just start it all slow, and work your way up to the top, like what you did with Mrs. Zimmerman last year. If you can get inside a teacher's pants, there's no way you cannot get into a normal girl's pants.SERIOUSLY. So I straightened my back out for a bit, leaned back, and slowly raised my arm and placed it on Charlotte's left arm. Charlotte felt my sweet and horny touch, looked at me, and smiled. She leaned forward, and placed her head on my chest. Awesome, I'm halfway done. Just slowly, but surely, I moved my arm closer and closer to her sweet pointy breasts, and-

Charlotte suddenly slaps my incoming hand. Ngek,ngek,ngek, Game over! Fuck. Groaning, I retracted my hand back to her fucking shoulder. Charlotte giggled slightly, like it was all a joke. Yes, funny, two months into a relationship, and I never even got to touch your boob.ONCE. Haha, that's reeallly funny, you bitch. Shortly, I found out that anger was the best food you could ever give to Sagzilla because for just thirty seconds, I was sucked right back in to looking at those sags.

After what seemed like saggy months, a yellow piece of paper was passed to my seat. I tore my eyes off Sagszilla, and looked at what was written on the paper. It said "GIRLS' RATING: HOME ECONOMICS EDITION" on top, and below was a list of all twenty girls in this class. There was already ratings for the girls on one column, with "ALAN" written on top, and next to "ALAN" was an empty column written "MARK". I looked at my left. Alan Broderick nodded at me. I resisted to make a 'pfft' sound. Thanks to me being the coach's son and also the sure person to get into the varsity basketball team this year, guys have been trying to suck my nuts off all summer and today just to convince my dad on how great they are as potential basketball players. Alan Broderick is a preppy. He's not a jock, he's a preppy, and preppies can't shoot for shit. And seriously, how the fuck dare he manipulate a serious the Girl's Rating. The Girl's Rating is a way for us guys (or simply, my group) to determine who's hot and who's just butt ugly in our classes by rating them from 1 to 10 in this sheet of paper. It's a great way for us to acknowledge who deserves to suck our cocks and who deserves to eat our turds. It's like the letters between the KKK back in the Spanish Rule. It's an important thing for all dudekind. Now dorkheads and dickheads have fucking stolen our sacred ritual and turned it to a fucking sell-out, like this faggot nodding at me right here. Asswipe.

But yet, I was bored. I was willing to do anything to resist the sags and to tame down my whiplash. I had to answer this ritual, but I have to remind myself to throw Alan Broderick into a dumpster later. I retracted my arm from Charlotte's shoulder,took her pen and began Girl #1: Stacy Anastakis. I looked at the girl at the top left. Brown hair, hazel eyes, Greek facial features. "9/10", I wrote below "MARK". Next, Girl #2: Alexandra Chang. Deadly short black hair, pierce rings on her nose. "2/10". Girl #3: Ginny Kendrick. Brown hair, nice red cheeks. "7/10". Girl #4: Hilary Larson. Black hair, pink lipstick."9/10".

The list went on and on and was a so-so way of keeping me busy (though it was a hassle to cover the paper away from Charlotte's gaze; girlfriends actually don't like it when they see their boyfriends making a list of girls they think are fuckable. How prude of those girls.), and it helped me pass by twenty more minutes of sag time, so when the school bell finally rang (I was already at Girl#18), I gave my unfinished ratings back to Alan, and left the room with Charlotte, while Alan was smirking at his friends, as if his slot at the basketball team is safe. I reminded myself to force Alan to eat more trash than he originally had to later on).

I nibbled Charlotte's ear until she giggled uncontrollably, and pushed my head off her ear. Yeah, laugh it all off, bitch. Fuck you and your conversative tight ass.I smirked, and kissed her on the cheek. "So, what's up next?", I asked her. "Assembly at the auditorium, then dismissal time", she spoke as she scanned through her schedule. "Fuck that, babe", I said. "Let's just ditch school". "What in the world are you talking about, Mark?", she smiled. "You know, hop off this hellhole, stroll at the park, go to some fancy restaurant, renting a motel room. You know, the usual". She laughed and punched me playfully on the ribs. Why'd you have to go laugh at my misery, whore? "First, like that's going to happen", Charlotte said. "And second, your dad's probably at that assembly, and he'll fry your butt off if you don't come". "He dosen't care", I replied, smirking. That was a fucking lie. Dad cares. A LOT. He wants me to be everywhere if it's some school-oriented shit, just to show that his son isn't like any of those gung-ho assholes you see down the hallway. He wants to show to the whole fucking world that his son is the real fucking ace in the hole. He ain't messing around. He has the perfect face that spells varsity basketball captain, and he'll tear your ass apart if you disagree. "But still", Charlotte said. "You wouldn't want to know what happens if you don't show up, do you Mark?" "You're too careful, babe", I chucked. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

So we skiddled along the corridor, greeting some passingby people (and also made this douche-looking asshole trip over. The guy's face was annoying me), slapping high-fives with the guys while Charlotte chatted with the girls, until we went inside the auditorium, which was pretty packed with talkative people. We didn't need to look for seats. Since we're not asswipes, like most of the people here, people actually take in mind to reserve seats for us, so when we got there, a couple of people, who insisted that we had met before, gave their seats to us. We shooed off these insects and sat down. I continued kissing Charlotte's neck (but if I got my way, she would be giving me a dry handjob by now) and entertaining her (at least one of us is entertained), when Ronald jumped behind us. Charlotte gasped, while I elbowed Ronald in the nads. While Ron was howling with pain, Thomas, another friend of mine who's an exchange student from London, also came up to us and sat next to me. "What's up there, old chap?", Ronald asked me in his British accent, which is a subject to much ridicule, but Thomas is a very big guy so we're careful to not be that assholish towards him. "Nothing much", I replied. "Aside from Ronald being a complete douche". "Haha, fuck you asswipe", Ronald said, as he sat down next to Ronald, with his hand on his crotch. "And thanks for that, I ain't sharing any of this". He pulled out a gigantic bag full of weed in his pocket. All of us gasped. "Buggers", said Thomas, with his mouth wide open. "Woah", I said. "Where the fuck did you get that?" "Found it in that dork Peter's locker. Turns out even losers actually smoke weed". "Yeah, that's pretty plausible", I said. "That explains why they're fucking losers: they got their heads all smoked up with weed". "That's disgusting", Charlotte grimaced as she looked at the bag. "You just don't like it since Jesus Christ never smoked weed", I smirked, while Ronald and Thomas snorted with laughter. "Hey, don't take Christ's name in vain, you dumbass", Charlotte snapped. "But babe, come on, weed is a plant", I soothed her. "God creates plant, henceforth, he wants us to smoke weed". "Eww, fuck that", etched Charlotte. You're just lucky you're hot, you sacriligious bitch. I turned my head back to Ronald. "So, wanna give some a-lightin' in your house later, man?" "Fuck you", sniggered Ronald. "I ain't giving you my shit. Not to fucking boneheads who like to rub my balls all day". "You don't know the meaning of balls unless you get a pair of bowling balls and hang them on your crotch, asswipe", I chuckled. "I know I got a bigger pair than you, Peewee Herman", Ronald shot back. "Pair of what? Titties?" We all laughed, which was cut short when Thomas pointed to the doors and said,"Check it". I turned my head and saw three girls wearing absolutely the strangest shit I've ever seen. One had so much mascara and make-up on her face that she looked like The Joker. One was wearing some kind of spacesuit, while the other one had a frame stuck on her body. I could see people pointing at them and sniggering. "What the fuck", I said. Charlotte laughed at my reaction. "I know, right? They were like that at the cafeteria at lunch break. Me and the girls are planning something...special for those retards later". "Like what, build them a spaceship?", I said. "Close, but not the cigar", grinned Charlotte. Our eyes followed those girls as they searched for a seat, with everybody backing away from them (their costumes took about two seats each). What the fuck is going on in the fucking world these days?

The teachers then suddenly came in the room. They were all talking casually, with my dad guffawing with Mr. Frye, the Chemistry teacher. Teacher after teacher came in, until I found the flea in the hair. It was Liz Dawson-no-bosom, coming in the room, talking with her dad, who was also a teacher here in high school. I noticed dad was looking at the sight of father and daughter with a leer on his. Dad HATED Mr. Dawson. They hated each other since their own high school days. Dad told me that when they were young, Mr.Dawson was exactly like Liz: an overachiever. Dad was captain of the basketball team while Mr. Dawson was the student body president, which meant they always tried to one-up each other with just about anything. Mr. Dawson even tried to sabotage Dad several times to make him fail in their conquests. Dad,unlike Mr. Dawson, had common sense, so he knew exactly what Mr.Dawson was getting up to and forced it back to that academic ass of his. The feud still resumed today, but with a new form: Both had spawns. Liz Dawson was an extremely irritating person. She thinks she's all smart with that big-ass brain of hers, but like her dad, she has no common sense. Everything about that girl, even of the very sight of her, makes me want to hang myself.

My eyes followed Liz as she left her father, and took a seat beside those numbskull nerds far away from mine.Even at such a distance, Liz' eyes found mine, and her face grimaced like I was some kind of leech. I gave her the finger, which she responded to a fake smirk and made up that 'W' sign with her fingers. Fucking bitch.

"Ahem-ahem", Principal McAllister's voice boomed from the front. My face turned away from Dawson-no-bosom, and looked at the teachers, already seated behind speaker on the stage. Dad looked still, with a smile on his face, like a cowboy all ready to go. Mr. Dawson, on the other hand, was scanning through his suitcase, his glasses almost slipping off his nose. Tsk,tsk,tsk, so much like her daughter. No wonder how she turned up to be such a bitch.

"Good afternoon, students of Pebblecreek High, and welcome to another school year. Hopefully this year will be fulfilling for all of you, with your brains be full of knowledge and learn a few valuable things that you hopefully will adapt in your own personal life. Classes have started earlier, so I hope all of you are adjusting fine and having a good time, and also keeping in mind that all of you have homework to do when you get home in your sweet loving homes."

He then started to introduce all the staff and teachers in the school, so one by one, all of them stood up from their chairs, walked to the empty space next to Principal McAllister's speaker booth, and bowed down. Notable mentions were Ms. Wienershnav, who bowed way too low (not that I'm complaining), Mr. Ellis, whose false teeth fell out as he bowed down, Dad, who flashed a wink towards the audience after bowing down, and Willie, the janitor who gave everyone the stink eye after only a few (three or four people, I think) clapped for him.

After the introduction of the staff, Principal McAllister spoke again:

"That was wonderful. Now moving on, announcements for this month. Varsity basketball tryouts will be held this Wednesday afternoon, 3:40pm, at Room 112. Only Sophomores and above can audition, so sorry Freshmen, but you have to wait next year."

Some groans from the Freshmen boomed out. Dickheads. They couldn't shoot if their mommas wouldn't give them fresh diapers first.

"Auditions for the glee and drama club will be held this Friday, so for those who are interested, feel free. Also, going out of the school during recess and lunch break is strictly not allowed, so if I hear another call from the local residents of this city, complaining about vandalizing or harassment, the consequences will be severe. Same goes for the conduct here in school. No vandalizing in the libraries, no using of classrooms with improper intentions, like that fight club those boys had last year. We are a top-rate high school, everybody, so let's show everybody how true Pebblecreekians behave. Well, I guess that's all of it. Thank you very much for listening, and have a very pleasant stay here in Pebblecreek High."


Last edited by btzneb; 01-20-2010 at 03:20 AM..
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