8I hated a lot of things. I hated Mondays, I hated school; I hated mushrooms; I hated the color pink and I hated public restrooms. These were only a few of the many things that displeased me. What? (glares at reader) I was picky… (cough) Anyway, it was Monday, and I had to go to my school, where the assholes on the committee are so cheap they gave us port-o-potties instead of bathrooms. Plus, my cousin's cat threw up all over my bed that morning with me still in it, so I was in a foul mood.
(I told Lari not to feed him lasagna.. That cat's not fricken Garfield ya know)
SO… my day was just peachy. And it was storming. Now don't get me wrong; I really did like the rain. But not walking home 5 blocks in it. In my $500 dollar uniform that was still on rent from the school. (Sigh) My life was wonderful. Once inside the school, I attempted to hide in my classroom from the rest of the world for some more sleep, but to my horror, I was caught.
"Heyyyy—heyyy youuu."
(pause)
"GIIIRL!."
Now It's 5 in the morning.. I had no real reason to be there that early; I'm just a morning person. To say the least, I didn't give a crap about the academic standards of this dinky town. The school sucked, the teachers sucked, and I didn't need a bunch of tests to tell me that I was smart.
It didn't register in my head that GIRL meant me, so when a large hand grasped my shoulder, I was a little freaked.
"YOUUU. GIRL." He roared. It was Smirnoffheizer.
I could swear that this man was a walrus. His only human attributes were that he had pale skin and no tusks. Other than that... Walrus-man.
"Hello Proffessor Smirnoffheizer." I said, gulping.
"I want a cup of coooaaffee. Go geeet mee a cup of coooaaffee and if you spiiill it, smeeeell it, or even thiiink about puuutting anything in itt… I'll giiive yoouu deteeention for a YEEEERR!"
Why he sent me to got get his coffee, I have no clue. I have the strong belief that he brews his own homemade whiskey in the basement of the gym and drinks it in class under the guise of rather dirty water in a bottle. He probably just wanted me out of the building so he could go down there to make some more.
I went to get his 'Coooaaffee' from the cafeteria. A lunch lady put it in a Styrofoam cup and practically threw it to me, sloshing boiling hot coffee all over my hand. (First Degree Burns anyone?) I brought it back, and the Walrus-man had the nerve to knock it out of my hand when I walked in the door, making me clean up the mess as well as get him another cup. Let's do that scenario all over again three minutes later and I was still cleaning up the latest spill.
As soon as I threw away the last cooaffee drenched paper towel, the bell rang. I had to run all the way across campus to my overly-eager-to-give-you-a-detention teacher, Mrs. Bennet. Yes, all that running and a tardy which equaled a detention. The rest of the day went by and I got four detentions in all for stupid things such as not laughing when a teacher said a joke that even my grandma would have thought was lame.. So the rest of my afternoons this week are gone. (it's not like I'll go to them anyway) School ended, I got trampled by kids running for their rides, and it began hailing. AHAHAHAHAAA... life is cruel.
The walk home was miserable. I was beaten by hail, almost electrocuted by the bolts of lightning, and when I reached my house, Lari forgot to unlock the damn door… and he stole my key, so I was stuck outside. Life couldn't get any worse.
After loudly cursing and attempting to break down the door, startling my 78 year old neighbor and her pet pigeon, I decided to go for a walk. (I actually went on a lot of walks just to dream and imagine things like my school in flames and Mr. Smirnoffheizer in jail for making moonshine and porno). I threw my sodden book sack on the steps, and start walking. The hail turned back to rain, and it was drizzling lightly as I began my walk.
I'd walked around town a lot, usually on the days when I went AWOL for school, so I was used to the boarded up buildings and creepy people of the neighborhood. A few houses still freaked me out, for they just seemed to always radiate an aura of evilness….
Don't look at me like that! Wouldn't you think so too if you were walking by old Victorian style houses surrounded by dead and rotting plants with mysterious noises coming from them?
I looked up from my thoughts when the noise of a police squad car sounded closer; I darted into the shadow of a building, hiding until it passed. (They all fricken think I'm out here doing drugs. Like three times before, they've cuffed me and brought me down town because they thought I had some meth on me… damn coppers.)
I was grumbling about the cops when I felt a hand on the middle of my back. I turned around to yell and beat the crap out of the pervert behind me, but when I saw him, I stopped.
"So, what are we hiding from?" he asked, smiling at me.
I screamed in his face, tripping over something (my feet maybe?) onto my back. Now my head was spinning, and I was freaking out over the …guy that just appeared behind me. My vision cleared, and I saw him sitting across from me laughing hysterically. He had dark red hair that swept over his eyes gently, and a black t-shirt with jeans and Vans. When he finally stopped laughing, realizing that I was gaping at him, he frowned.
"What's your problem, Sarin? Don't you remember me?"
"Wha-…. I've never met you before in my life! I shouted, trying to gain my composure.
"Aww...! You don't remember me?!"
He scrambled up and extended his hand to me. I resisted the temptation to bite it. Instead I grasped it tightly and he pulled me up in one swift motion until we're standing pressed together. I almost fell again (from shock), but he steadied me, and I got a better look at him with his face almost touching mine. He was rather... well-built with broad shoulders and a toned body... ( which was very noticeable through his damp shirt) And his eyes… his beautiful... blue eyes... ( sigh… cough) had golden specks. And his hair... the color is so pretty... and wavy… I just. Want. To. Touch… his hair. (drool…. )No. (Slap) AH I can't do this…
Ok. Self-Control at 80.
…
I-still-want-to-touch-his-hair-
( AII! (Slapping self in the face violently))