Ashes

       I, am typically an optimistic person; but even I have my limits. Sitting in a boring white classroom that oddly resembled a psychiatric hospital (do NOT ask how I know that), listening to my teacher who most likely had "bore the innocent to death" on her bucket list, about mitosis, was at that limit. There really was no point for me being in class either. What do I do in class? All I have ever done, and likely will ever do in that class; mindlessly scrawl down notes waiting for her impossibly unrelated questions to be thrust on me. I really didn't need to focus, whenever she would ask me a question, her already messed up face contorted with a look of joyful expectation (all of us were convinced she wasn't human, so her joy could have been constipation), I would pretend not to know, then give a highly in detail and Phd worthy explanation that I would put together from our textbooks, at the brain she thinks to be non-existant in my head.

       "Psst!" Without even looking over to my right I knew who was trying to capture my already diverted attention. I rolled my eyes, my neighbor never did seem to care that we were sitting dead center, in the front row. "Eleahn! Pssssstt!!!" He continued to pester me, adding annoying poking to his list of "attention grabbing and utterly pointless attempts". I was about to turn around and scream at him to shut up, but our teacher beat me too it.

         "Oliver Jones! If I hear one more obnoxious sound out of you, I will fail you for the semester!" The "Unicebrow", our 9th grade biology teacher screamed and wagged her wrinkly and bony fingers. She scanned over his freckled face, which was now set to look all too similar to a four year old that had not been corrupted yet.  Her eyes narrowed, but none the less, she turned back to the board and began drawing what I presumed to be what Oliver's and my's corpses would look like when se was done with us. Unsurprisingly, he continued bugging me. I finally gave in, slamming my pen into my notebook, and looking at him furiously.

         "Ollie, do you want her to cook us? What is it?"  I growled furiously. He simply smiled and slid a piece of vibrant colored paper in front of me. It was a flyer for a magic show, the words The Magical Madichi and his Chest of Wonder! I let a quiet chuckle escape my lips as I read on. A bright red and mustard striped border went along the side of the pages, colorful pictures of disturbed clowns smiling with small children like child molesters, random acrobats flying through the air toward the camera, and bearded women. All that was missing was a drug cartel, some weapons, and a talking monkey for it to be labeled a freak show and for it to be seriously illegal. I pushed the flyer back over to Oliver and shook my head. His smile faded as his blue eyes fell to the flyer again.

       "Eleahn! Please pay attention! I shall not repeat today's lesson because you and Mr. Jones are having a side conversation!" The devil's spawn, a.k.a. Mrs. Eunice Hamilton, screeched, her face melting off at the fact I had stopped taking notes for thirty seconds.  I was about to give one of my many perfectly well thought out and applicable excuses that I was so infamously known for, when thankfully, the bell rang. Freedom was mine! As the deafening, migraine inducing, ringing of the bell echoed through the lab, I slung my old denim messenger bag over my shoulder, the numerous key chains adding to the noise. Quickly, I rushed to the door, watching Ollie murmur to himself as he tried to gather up an argument to convince me to come to the freak fest. The second he was behind me, I shoved against the cool metal, the push bar had a tendency to jam, requiring me to through my entire weight against it for it to even budge. Before stepping out into the over-populated quad, I turned around and looked at my Bio teacher.

        Eunice, infanous for her "Eunicebrow" was glaring at me, her own personal eye ferret (it could have been a squirrel, but it would have to be a VERY fat squirrel) staring me down. Her sickly thin lips were set in a thin line, the bloodstains from her last victim acting as an implant, attempting to make her lips look present, but instead just making it look like the vampire just ate Edward Cullen. She shot daggers at me, her dull t**d colored eyes attempting to stare into my soul. I smiled and winked, her face scrunching even more with rage, as if her personal brute had reached the gates to my soul, just to find a "Go die in that whole you call a heart moron" sign.

       Before she could draw her machine guns and pull a Ripley on me, I busted the door and raced outside, incapable of breathing in the fresh spring air I was laughing so hard. I doubled over laughing, my bag smacking me as I couldn't help but laugh my really awkward laugh. No sound was emitted, I was just doubled over in the quad, clapping my hands and moving my mouth like some mentally challenged seal.

        "Eleahn! Do you have a death wish? I swear, one of these days she's going to stick her unibrow on you!" Oliver joked, bounding forward with his freakishly long legs. Oliver was like a giant leprechaun; flame red hair, freckles, blue eyes, always seemed to be wearing green, not to mention he always had a bunch of chocolate in gold wrappers in a pot hidden in his locker. I rushed forward, hoping my oh so developed track skills to avoid a heated argument about why I "couldn't" go to the show.

       I quickly jumped the three large steps down to the main "bowl" of the quad. I turned around, just in time to hear Oliver shout "Wait!" before tripping on his daddy long legs and falling face first into the brick, his books sprouting out of his bag and splaying out over the ground in a near perfect circle and himself landing with a tectonic plate re-arranging thud. I watched as he slowly sat up, on his face an odd look of pure discombobulation and confusion. I let myself chuckle for a second before rushing over to help him.

       I slowly helped him up, and dropped his easily-over-70-lbs-books into his open arms like logs of wood in a bon fire. He looked up to me, his best impression of a pug's puppy face staring at me. As he began to whine like an injured dog, I began to walk away. It was cute the first time, funny the second, annoying the third, and completely and utterly useless to the point of where he could have just said "ignore me! ignore me!" The fourth time.

        "No Ollie! I will not go!" I stated firmly, deciding to walk down the cement stairs instead of long jumping them. His psychotic puppyish whimper was audible ten feet away, people heading to the cafeteria were beginning to stare not so much at him, but at "that psycho chick who makes boys bawl over her rude remarks" as I was sometimes referred to as. I spun around, Oliver was slowly inching closer, a tiny puppy step at a time, tears slowly trickling out of his eyes. "Damn you and your acting lessons." I accused spitefully. He smiled, his grin stretching from one ear to the other, his eyes closed from pure joy. "Buuuttt..." I added on, his smile instantly faded to a stern face, one eye squinted, one eyebrow raised, as if he was daring me to deny his boyish cuteness. "I'm not going to go." I stated firmly, hoping that I implied no negotiations. Nodding my head, I began to walk away, but not before he had a firm grip on  my arm. 

       "But Eleahn!!!! It's gonna be awesome!!" He pleaded like a little kid. My eyes got a very nice view of the sunny blue sky as I rolled them at his five year old pleading skills. "Why not?" He asked, droning his words out, hoping to annoying me into attending. All the air left my lungs as I exhaled, slamming the palm of my hand into my forehead, I began to explain.

        "Not my thing." I explained plainly, shrugging my shoulders for effect. His face twisted with shock.

        "WWWHHHHAAATTTT???" Ollie screamed very over-dramatically, bringing his hand to his heart as if I had driven a dagger through it. "How can YOU of all people, NOT love magic tricks?" He shouted, audibly insulted, luckily there was no one around to call for a straight jacket.

 My hand collided with my forehead again, a very popular motion for me.

        "Because they are just that Ollie. Tricks. None of it is real!" I informed harshly. Turning away I murmured to myself, "I learned that awhile ago." I let my voice trail off. He began to whimper again, but I didn't turn around, my life had enough drama without a beauty king molding my life like putty. "Bring me a t-shirt!" I shouted, waving blindly behind me.

       I could see his reflection as I approached the glass cafe windows. His moppy hair falling into his playful eyes, his back hunched over like the guy from the Hunchback of Notredam. He began to trudge away, seeing that I could not be persuaded, his feet dragging on the floor. I rolled my eyes again, that boy needed some help. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the doors and braced myself for some of the many dangers of high school; the cafeteria food.

        I threw open the weighted glass door, waiting for all eyes to turn on me like the other students do in all of those crappy chick flicks. Naturally, and thankfully, no one looked. I quickly shuffled in, my black high-tops not making the tiniest sound as I slowly approached the long intimidating line. I hated being a freshman (freshwoman?) , none the less THAT freshman. I was the one who was decked out for spirit days, who was screaming her face off for the home team at games, and the one who for some reason, was almost always sitting alone.

       I stared down at the tops of my worn out shoes, I could hear the chatter around me, but I thankfully wasn't part of it. The high-heeled and flip-flopped upperclassmen were talking about cheer, football, which girl passed out from starvation THIS time. It all reminded me too well why I wanted to go to private school. I shuffled forward as the line moved on, slowly inching up to the judgement table. I didn't dare look up as I moved. I wasn't shy, that was obvious, I simply wasn't THEM. And by THEM, I mean classifiable as a female by the upperclassmen. Also known as, and more commonly referred to as a complete and utter b***h.

        The school had a lot of issues, but by far the people who attended were the worst. They were all snooty rich kids who believed themselves to be better than everyone else, with their overdone faces, their sport cars, their portable TV's, their smart phones. It all made me gag, not that I am very "OLD TIMES WERE BETTER!" They weren't, there was communism, the Bubonic Plague, and Nazis in the old times. But, I'm not "FUTURE! FUTURE!" I am perfectly happy in the middle. But I would be significantly happier if they could use their money to buy brains. One sure fire way, to save the planet from Idiotism.

       I kept shuffling until I felt myself collide with the back of the moron in front of me. Immediately I took a step back, but it was too late.

       "Watch it freak!" The queen b***h's squeal made my ears bleed as she berated me for being a living, breathing, organic life-form. Her pups behind her yipped with joy, expecting me to make a scene, something I was relatively good at. "AUUGHHH!!! YOU MUSSED MY DRESS!!!!" She hollered, her voice hushing everyone around us. The way she spoke, I half expected her to call a court jester and her father, the king, to have me beheaded. All she needed to add were words similar to peasant. Feeling particularly brave, I curtsied toward her and bowed my head, strands of my hair flying into my view.

        "My sincerest apologies muh lady. Would you like me to fetch you a new gown. I believe Sir I'll Sleep With Anyone has ordered some of his worshipers to acquire you one." I mocked, making sure to stretch my fake british accent to the point of Monte Python standards. I looked up and barely managed to control my laughter.

        She was standing there, arms locked by her sides, her tiny, wimpy, girly fists clenched so hard they were icy pale by her sides. Her mouth was agape in a way resembling a fish, her eyes narrowed as if she was envisioning herself mutilating my corpse with her stiletto heels. Emerald, the school's personal dictator, began to slowly age backwards, shrinking into the mindset of a five year old. Emerald stomped her tiny feet in her four inch Prada heels into the stained linoleum repetitively, her arms wrapped around her near completely exposed chest, and she shook her head furiously, causing her "perfectly" styled hair to fly around like a blind moth.

       "No! No! No! No! NO! You insufferable, evil, little, psychopath! I should have my father throw you out of the school for this!" She squealed, her annoying voice several octaves higher. The situation would have been hilarious, had I remembered that she was in fact, the daughter of the real dictator, the principle. "This was my favorite dress! And you ruined it! You filthy, pathetic,  lower-class pig!" She finished off, droning on and on about my existence and how I was nothing but a worthless piece of garbage that had been puked on my a constipated homeless man. It didn't bother me, I had my fair share of verbal abuse. I simply took the time she spent attempting to squander my desire to live, and used it to imagine her, slowly being eaten, by honey badgers.

        Eventually, the thought bored me, and for some unknown reason, I felt the need to provoke her more.

         "Your royal bitchiness, if you do not mind me informing you, none of us can go to get some lowly servant food. I believe your exceptionally large ego is blocking the way. So if you would not moving your ridiculously fat a*s, I would like to purchase some illness inducing sustenance with that money you paid the teacher to not fail you for the semester." I retorted, a sly smile on my face. I knew I crossed the line, but considering I was already going to be suspended for a day because of what  I said earlier, I figured I might as well make it two days so I could catch up on my homework.

        At my request, her "perfectly heart shaped face" contorted to a shape similar to one I would find in an un-flushed toilet. Her skin turned bright red. I will admit, Emerald was pretty, but she needed to swallow some make-up. She may have looked like a beauty pageant winner, but she was as twisted, grotesque, and messed up as Golem + Lord Voldemort on the inside, assuming she used auto tune to speak as well as lip sing like Justin Beiber.

         Emerald began to growl, rolling up the hot pink silk sleeves of her "sophisticated woman" costume shirt. I was tempted to make a comment about her claws coming out, but I figured, I stoked the bonfire enough; any more and the whole village would crumble. She began to  charge forward, her worshipers not even bothering to hold her back. She swung weakly and fell forward with her poor balance, I easily side stepped.

         "How appropriate, you fight like a cow." I insulted, a smile still sewn onto my face. Emerald kept thrusting herself forward, missing me attempt after attempt. Several swings later, I decided to mock again. I had begun getting bored with our trifle encounter "Look, I'm just going to walk away okay? Believe it or not, I have a code. I will not take part in a battle of wits with an unarmed woman." I insulted plainly, the girls behind her gasping with shock. Emerald shuddered in front of me, based on the resemblance of a tomato that her faced possessed, I prepped my fist for it to connect with her face. As she charged forward, a direct collision course for her eye with my fist, I felt an all to familiar firm grip on my arm, tugging me out of, and away from the circle of crazed teenagers shouting "fight!"

Author's Note

like before, ignore grammar. What do you think of Emerald's dialogue? I think it needs some work.