This story is fake in some aspects, but it is set in my school. I am the main character and most of these events really happened, though I stretched the truth a bit. I changed the names of all of my friends, though they all exist as well. I am omitting my own name entirely.
Please, any reviews will be quite helpful as I dive into my writing career.
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I am walking through the hall at my school, the crowded hall with all the lockers and classrooms. I am currently switching from my religion class, which is in a portable with three classrooms attached, to my science class just down the hall, then up another one. It is all resting in a two-pronged fork around the commons room- a small gym and cafeteria.
The cafeteria food is all unhealthy and expensive. I have heard that it is pretty good, but in my opinion it isn’t worth the long line ups that you end up standing in for almost twenty minutes. Plus, it is way too expensive for unhealthy crap. The only healthy stuff they have is a salad cup with packaged dressing to go along with it. Half the time the lettuce leaves are brown.
The teachers at my school are okay, I guess. I mean, if they are cool, they rock, but if they are bad they suck. There is no in-between at my school when it comes to teachers. Right now I came from religion with Mrs. Samuel. She’s cool – a short, smiley woman with nice hair and big dimples. She’s fairly young, too. The younger teachers are the best, most of the time.
I am walking through that stupid hall, and suddenly I feel like one of those popular kids from the television shows – the ones who wave to everyone and know everyone. I’m not popular in the least, so this feels new to me. First I wave at Jay, a funny soccer-player, goalie for our Okotoks team. Then I pass Lily and Kat, two inseparable friends. I turn around to wave at them, and I have to admit, I feel pretty cool at the moment. Kim sees me and runs over, giving me a huge hug. She is the really boisterous type, so I just shrug her off and comment on her shirt, the one that has The Beatles’ faces on it. I love that band.
Tanya, an English girl, shouts out, “Magic Power!” I frown at my stupid nickname. I prefer the other nickname, but she likes this one. I learn to live with it. She stops in front of me, sticking out her hand, and we quickly do our handshake.
“I have to go,” I say, worried. I’ve never been late for class intentionally before.
“Awe, Mollin’,” she says in her strong accent, using my preferred nickname.
“See ya.”
She swivels through the hall, catching up with Alice, another English girl who can let her accent go at will. She only uses it when she gets really angry, or if you ask her to. She’s pretty amazing.
I begin to manoeuvre through the packed hallways once again. I look over my shoulder, searching for Ellen, my other soccer player friend, but she is lost in the crowd. She’s probably talking to Jay about their game tonight. Soccer is their life, and they made the same team, so I am often left out of their conversations.
I see Kelsey in the hall, but she doesn’t see me, so I don’t bother waving. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and I say, “Jolly…”
“Don’t call me that,” she growls. Jolene is sometimes pretty mean. I don’t understand her a lot of the time, but she’s okay, I guess.
“Science next, eh?” I have the Canadian ‘eh’ hammered into my brain. I say it a lot.
“Yep.”
We are silent for a while. I’m okay with silence, though she finds it awkward. She nudges my arm and I turn into the classroom. This happens all of the time. I get caught up in thoughts and I don’t notice the turn to the classroom. I just tell people that I’m out of it. I’m always out of it.
Mr. Schwartz is playing with his smart board at the front of the room. Jeffrey and Aden are looking at the giant Van de Graf machine in the back of the room, and numerous other kids are standing around the room. I sit in my desk, second row from the left, last seat, just as the bell rings. Ellen walks in, books in her arms.
“Hey Mollin’!” No one ever uses my real name. I have a million nicknames to use instead.
“Hello.”
She sits in her desk, the one right beside me. Tara sits in front of her and turns, scuffing her shoes on the floor. I love those shoes, those big black boots with soles that scuff the floor super easily. If I had them I would sit and mark the ground black all of the time.
Everyone sits down in their assigned desks, chatting. Jeff sits two seats ahead of me. He’s not cute or anything, but I think about him all the time. He is one of my first guy friends. I find that most of my friends are girls- Jay, Ellen, Tanya, Kelsey, Jolene, Lily, and Kat. Maybe I missed a few there. I’m not popular, but I’m not a complete loser. I have a few friends.
Ellen puts her hands to her head, exasperated. Every Monday Mr. S tells us about his weekend. It mainly consists of skiing and his son, a two year old kid that he always talks about. I roll my eyes. I’m not kidding when I say these stories get boring.
He goes on and on for like fifteen minutes, then starts our class. We are learning about environmental chemistry, and it is almost as boring as his stories. Mr. S rants on about algal bloom and how horrible humans are, letting their chemicals and fertilizers leach into the environment. I understand where he is coming from… I used to be a nature freak/environmentalist myself, but then I realized that there is no getting out of not harming the environment, no matter how hard we try. It would take some really gifted kid to figure out a way to not harm nature, and to use less electricity. That kid would be rich.
The bell rings, finally. We all file out of the classroom. Jeff and Aden are behind me, and Jeff calls out, “Hey, Frenchie.”
That’s me. I’m Irish, but because of my political views I am ‘French’. I guess I am a little bit French, from my great grandma, but I don’t know French and I don’t have an awesome accent.
An exchange student from France is walking ahead of me. His name is Luc, and he is really kind. He wears a lot of pink, and like no one likes him. Well, that was a lie. A couple girls like him. All the popular girls do and some of the soccer player guys do, because he’s big into soccer, but other than that… I just think the other guys are jealous of his, to put it into easily understandable words, hotness. Luc turns around and waves at me, smiling. I feel like melting. That smile…
But I don’t melt, because I am human. I am not a snowman or the Wicked Witch of the West; I am a plain old human. I have nothing too special about me, either. Sure, I’m pretty smart, a 92% average, and I’m alright at drawing, but I’m not anything special like… Ellen. She’s skinny and good at sports, smart, too. And she’s really good with guys, unlike me. I get embarrassed too easily and I turn bright red.
“Magic Power!” Tanya smacks into me, laughing, “Duh nuh, duh nuh, duh nuh, duh nuh, duh nuh!” It’s my theme song, created for me by none other than Andy, my crush from last year. Maybe I still like him this year. I’m not sure, though. I’m not sure about anything anymore.
“What class is it now?” I ask Ellen. She’s always on top of everything.
“Gym.”
“Oh, fun, dance,” I scowl. Dance. I hate dance so badly… we used to be doing the jive, which was fun, but now it is the waltz. I wonder who my lucky partner will be today. I have two left feet, I swear, especially when I dance. No wonder one of my many nicknames is Klutz.
Tanya has dance right now too, even though we are in separate classes. She tags along as Ellen, Jolly, and I make our way to the gym on the other side of the school. We don’t have to change for dance, thank goodness, so we don’t have to rush through the halls to make it on time.
It is the last period of the day, finally. I look at the tiny clock mounted underneath the basketball scoreboard. A year ago when I didn’t have my glasses I didn’t even know there was a clock there, but now I see it clearly. 2:25. That means there is a long time until the end of school at 3:19.
The three main gym teachers call us to line up, girls on the red line, boys on the white line. This is so that our partners are random, unless someone actually takes the time to count out spots until they are with the partner they want.
As the lines shorten I realize that I will be with Aden. That’s okay, seeing as we get along and I can actually talk to him, unlike some other guys. He’s a little taller than me, too, so we make good partners.
Dance would be fun with him if we were doing the jive, but we are waltzing.
“Social dance position!” one of the teachers calls out. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he puts one on my waist, then we link hands together. After that first moment of awkwardness everything is good and we get into the groove of the music. The strangest thing occurs, then, because instead of this being uncomfortable it actually feels safe, like we were meant to be dancing together, like his hand has moulded into my waist and my hand is a feather on his shoulder.
I might have a crush on him, I decide, but this can’t be it. I’ve been waiting for a crush all year, and it is already December. I don’t feel anything for anyone, except for maybe Andy, but I’m not sure.
Lately all I can think about is who likes who and who’s dating and all that junk. The stuff people eat up these days – who is doing drugs and who is cheating on who, yadda yadda. It’s all crap, all of it, and yet I feel attracted to it. I’m not so much attracted to the media as I am to the gossip. I’m not one to gossip, either.
Anyway, we are dancing, and then the song changes. The teachers pause it and I look over to Ellen.
“What in the world?”
“We’re probably just changing partners.”
“Yeah, but that was a jive song that was just playing.”
Jeffrey looks at me, “Well then we’re probably jiving.”
“After only one song?”
“Why are you even asking me!?”
“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Ellen.”
The teachers turn the music back on, and we get back into dance position. Just now I realize that Ellen and Jeff are partners. Don’t as me why, but I think I might be jealous.
Aden moves his hand to rub it on his pant leg. Oh, yeah, I’m sweaty. I move my hand to rub it off too. I laugh under my breath, trying to lighten the mood. The silence between us isn’t bugging me, it’s just the fact that he is looking over my head, something Aden has never done before when we dance. Of course, we have never waltzed together before this.
“What’s funny?” he asks.
It takes a while for the question to register. I look up to see him smiling. “Oh, sorry. I’m out of it.” I’m always out of it, that’s my excuse for everything.
“Haha, yeah,” he laughs, a fake laugh. He’s trying to lighten the spirit.
“Sooo…”
“Hey, you want to try that move?” he says, nodding towards Jeff and Ellen, who are turning very daintily.
“What move?”
“The turn,” he says, then begins to laugh.
“Okay, then…”
“Sorry, I’m tired today.”
“I think we all are.” He budges his hand up to a more comfortable position and we try a turn. I watch my feet the whole time, “I really suck at this.”
“Please, you aren’t that bad.”
“Yeah I am. I suck at dancing.”
The music ends and the teachers change it to jive music.
Aden starts singing along as we get into jive position. “Fly me to the moon, let me –”
“Why are you singing?” I ask, laughing, as we do the octopus. At the dip part his drops me really low and I yelp, like a dog.
“You screamed!”
“I yelped.”
The bell rings at that moment, and we drop our hands, turning to grab our books and bags. I catch up with Ellen and Jolene as we walk to our lockers.
“I am so tired,” I complain. I always say this.
They both nod and continue down the hall. Our lockers are situated near Mrs. Samuel’s room in little sitting areas. They create a half square around a little bench and are crammed close together. Lucky me, I’m right in a corner surrounded by guys.
I wait for about five minutes until they’ve cleared out enough, then I duck to my bottom-locker. I shove my books into the tiny locker in no particular order and yank my jacket, colourful scarf, and little black gloves out.
“See ya tomorrow, Ellen.”
Tanya scampers over from her locker across the hall, “Magic Power!”
“I have to go. See ya Pipkin, El – I mean Wendy Roo.” I use both of their nicknames and they wave as they walk out the back door together. I walk all the way around the library, which is in the middle of the school, to the front doors. They are big, heavy, and wooden. Extremely ugly, if you’re asking me.
I pass the first line of buses in the bus loop. There are two lines, one right next to the school, the other behind the first. Mine is in the second line if you walk straight out of the front doors. I board it quietly. The cold bus is empty, no one in sight, not even the bus driver or her three year old baby girl who sits in a booster seat up front.
I sit in my seat which is on the right side of the bus, over the back wheel. I used to fight with another girl, a grade sevener, on my bus for the seat just ahead of this one. But then I decided this one is better. Plus, I’m a grade niner. Why should I care where a grade seven kid sits?
I’m a weird kid. Thirteen years old, I am in grade nine. I started school a year early when I was only four and I’m smarter than a lot of the kids in my grade. One of the smartest, in fact. I love using words like “Indubitably”, “Indeed”, and other words that aren’t often heard from kids of my age these days. I am only about five foot two or something like that, but I’m okay with being short.
Unlike most people my age I don’t like what’s popular. Rather, I quite despise what is popular. I hate skinny jeans, I’m not a fan of name brands, and I strongly dislike popular music. I prefer classic rock – The Beatles, Led Zeppelin; and a little country – Corb Lund, Miranda Lambert. I wear baggy jeans for days on end if they aren’t dirty. I only own two pairs of pants, so why waste them? My shirts are randomly chosen from a blue vintage “Zoo de Granby” one, a pink and black quarter length “Can’t fight the power”, a green hooded one, and a couple others.
I take a while to ponder about my strangeness while the bus starts. Now I get to sit on it for like 45 minutes, in the cold. I have absolutely nothing better to do on a Monday afternoon, anyway. Ellen is at soccer and she is the only one who I actually hang out with outside of school.
When the bus stops at my little sister’s school I block the pathway down the center of the bus so that none of the little kids can pass to the back. They have to stay near the front, but they don’t always listen. Then I sit back in my seat, just thinking, until we get to my big brother’s high school, and then to our bus stop. The stop is a street from my house at a mail box, and I tramp through the snowy road. I get home at 4:00, like always.
I press the code into our big metal door, and when the light flashes green I open it. Inside is a red and white striped carpet for shoes, and a closet. I hang my jacket on the rail, it’s just so much easier than hanging it in the closet, and I clamber up the stairs, throwing my bag on the little chest full of my mom’s knitting. She loves knitting.
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I'll stop there for today. Is that post too long? Please review it.
Thanks,
p.s. I rated it PG because of some language. If you think it should have a higher or lower rating, just tell me so in your reviews.
-Macs
