They weren't the beautiful people, no, because if they were I'd have a reason to dislike them. But now, since they aren't, I have to look for a reason.
And I found that reason during study hall, when I was trying to work nearby.
They were loud.
Using this advantage, I walked up to them an used my sense of no-fear to help me as I hissed, "Shut up!"
They listened to me right away but traces of previous amusement still lingered. I glared and sarcastically put in, "There is such thing as people actually trying to get something done!"
I heard one of them mutter, "Nerd." Chuckles and giggles followed the comment, but I just rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. One kid stopped me though.
He called, "What's your GPA?"
His punk friends around him all punched each other and muttered things like 'show off' and 'what for,' but he still stood there a smirk playing over his lips- one of which had a piercing.
I raised both eyebrows- the ability to raise only one had always avoided me- and stated, "Four-point-oh, of course. Yours?"
He didn't say anything, just sat back down with his friends and continued talking and laughing. As I walked back, I theorized that they might be laughing just a little bit louder. Sighin
g, I gathered my stuff up, shoved it in my disastrously messy locker- cleanliness was just one of those traits that eluded me- and then headed for the bathroom.
When I was done using it, I stared at myself in the mirror. I wondered what those kids saw when they looked at me. Narrowing my eyes at my reflection, I guessed.
I think they saw a girl, not very pretty, not too ugly. Her slightly layered- no bangs- brown-red hair that fell to her shoulders was pulled back from her face with a headband. She had stormy grey eyes- top feature- little lips and a cute little nose. (Remember, this would be if these guys had been flying on clouds- or on drugs- so that they would think of a decapitated human limb- think messy decapitation- would be beautiful.)
They would then see the rest of me. They would see a girl skinny, but not too skinny- kind of like she missed dinner, lunch and breakfast a couple of times. And then they would see what I wore.
Pleated skirt, white knee-stockings, shiny black dress shoes, white fitting blouse. It's not like I chose this uniform- I went to a private school but no uniform- myself, my mom chose it.
(Pregnant-at-seventeen mother of twins- me and my brother- she's paranoid of everything that could endanger her children's sure trip to college. She somehow thought that unique clothing would jump up and pin Michael and I down, preventing us from going to college.)
I sighed, I shouldn't have dwelled on that, I should just move on. They'd never care. Neither would I.
I walked into the next class, a yawn stretched over my face.
Seating myself two rows from the front and closest to the door. It was my last period of the day, I was ready to get home.
It was my least favorite class, anyway.
Now, before I continue, let me explain something.
It used to make me angry when I read a book and a totally crazy twist happened that was abjectly obvious, but then I realized something. They are the main characters, and stuff has to happen to the main character, okay?
Our teacher, Mr. Tri, walked in, all legs and looks. He was beautiful, but he had publicly humiliated each and every student so none held him in any sort of esteem. He bustled in the room, a smile on his face that put every student on edge.
I even saw the girl seated next to me- too much makeup- shift uncomfortably.
Mr. Tri started with a lecture, "I have heard that several of you have been being- oh, how should I put this- unkind to one another. So I am creating an assignment that will hopefully subside my torturous pleasures and also smooth ruffled feathers.
"The assignment, will consist of a set of partners-" he held his hands in the air and cried "-don't even begin to look at your best friend, boyfriend or girlfriend! This project will be based off of your own personal interests. Or, dare I say, dislikes. You two will come up with something that you commonly despise and will write a five-page essay on it. Also I will be expecting a five paragraph essay on how it was like working with someone so different. Don't worry, you have two months to complete the assignment. I will send out a rubric to follow in two days. Now! For the partners." His smile was complete evil now.
"I have chosen someone that you'd never had imagined working with. First off: Catherine McCoy and Sean Dilsby-" a nearby cheerleader reached hypersonic in .2 seconds with an astonishing shriek as she stared, aghast, at a video gamer- possibly professional. And then I realized what this was, a chance for Mr. Tri to play cupid.
I had known, from my mother who had gone out on a few dates with him before deciding it wouldn't work, that he loves love stories. He just wants to play matchmaker.
My theory began to become a result as each and every partner was a female and a male. He was true, the ways he had twisted things was awing,
Finally, I heard my name, "Landon James and Logan Johnson."
Having no idea who 'Logan Johnson' was, I waited for him to come to me.
Sure enough, with a tap at my shoulder came Logan Johnson.
I turned around, a ready smile on my face. The smile fell as soon as I saw him. It was the guy who had previously asked me what my GPA was.
"You." I said, wrinkling my nose.
"Me." He smirked.
He sat down in a chair next to me and stretched. "So what exactly is this project we are doing?"
Of course, he didn't know!
But Landon- what kind of name from hell is that?- apparently had expected more of me.
Just a couple points down for her.
Overestimation, bad, bad thing. It's what girls always had towards guys like him.
Truth be told- Logan didn't like the truth either, it was just about as bad as he thought his name was- he had spent the entire lesson watching 'Landon' pay attention to Mr. Tri.
Her eyes would flicker to the side every now and then- possibly bored?- Logan didn't know.
He also didn't know why Mr. Tri had paired them on this stupid assignment, whatever it was.
Mr. Tri, or Dave, smiled proudly to himself viewing his work of art.
His favorite masterpiece- Landon and Logan- were talking. She was getting irritated and he just looked amused.
Dave had seen the way that Logan had been watching her and immediately changed Landon's partner from Johnny the Jock to Logan the Punk, Johnny the Jock ended up with Sally the Smart.
As something in his chest swelled, Dave's pride only grew further as Logan started laughing and Landon set her hand into her hands.
It was hopeless and I knew it.
After explaining the project to Logan he had proceeded to make several unnecessary and insulting comments. I tried to brush this off, but resting my head in my hands was just something that was completely necessary.
This was- as I already said- a hopeless cause.
