yourself in
detention,” Ms. Garner assured me as she readied her book to begin the lesson.
I hadn’t even done anything. I gaped at Spencer in disbelief to gauge his
response and he shrugged back. Meanwhile, Cecelia managed to slip me a nasty look, which I pretended
not to see. What was her problem?
“Wow, Ms. Garner really doesn’t
like you,” Alexis whispered to me while Ms. Garner wrote something on the
board.
“Yeah, neither does that Cecelia
girl either.”
“ Still? What did you do to
her?!” Alexis’ eyes lit up. I had
quickly learned that the scent of fresh gossip to Alexis was the equivalent to
the scent of blood to sharks.
“Nothing! I never do anything!” I breathed irritably. Maybe I
just had a talent for repulsing people.
Unfortunately, my outburst hadn’t
been very quiet, because Ms. Garner turned around and wordlessly narrowed her
eyes at me.
I was really, really going to hate
this class.
Thanks to Ms. Garner’s sudden
display of concern for the way I used my red pen, she forgot to check that
everyone had completed the homework. So,
at the very least, I could pride myself in the fact that I had saved Alexis
from potential humiliation.
In gym, misfortune struck again
when the coach announced that we would all be playing a “fun and friendly” game
of dodge ball. In what world was
intentionally trying to hit other people with rubber balls fun and
friendly? Those two adjectives
contradicted the very nature of dodge ball itself.
Somehow I ended up in the first
game with Cecelia on the opposing team. Even in her gym uniform, she looked ready for a party, from her
perfectly pedicured toenails to her immaculately straight blond hair. She seemed relatively short surrounded by her
similar-looking friends who, like her, were wearing so much makeup that their
eyelashes looked like blackened brooms.
At that moment, Cecelia was leading
a discussion concerning potential interpretations of the text, “Hi," which
had, from what I could discern, been sent to her by a boy she had just met in
class. Her two friends clung to her
every word and ensured that the boy was definitely in love with her. As they tried to dissect the meaning of
“hi," I suppressed the urge to rain reality on their deluded train of
thought.
Five minutes later, the game still
hadn’t started, thanks to the coach’s inability to locate the dodge balls in
the storage room. Cecelia was still consulting her friends for advice on the
follow-up text. I sighed as she
confidently (and likely inappropriately) decided to reply with “Hey baby."
Cecelia then proceeded to complain
about how she was so fat, and how she would probably be better off without her
lunch. Her two friends fawned over her,
emphasizing that she was the perfect weight and much too pretty to go without a
day of food. I then began to realize
that these three people must have been the shallowest people on the entire
campus. I hadn’t known that girls could
so adamantly declare their flaws in a desperate attempt to fish for
compliments. Hell, I had never done it;
I thought it only happened in Mean Girls .
Finally, after a grand total of
seven minutes, the game started. I
wasn’t a very good shot, and most of my balls sailed out into open air without
a specific target.
Two minutes into the game, I
noticed that most of the balls flying at me were coming from Cecelia’s
direction. She was aiming every ball she
caught at my head. Was she intentionally
trying to maim me?
I didn’t have a death wish, so I
let one of her balls graze my arm, allowing me to go directly to the “out”
zone. I liked my head, and I had no
intention of letting Cecelia use it for target practice.
***
Although my dignity remained
intact, the dodge ball match left me sore and livid. That night, just as I was about to go to
bed, I called Matt to thoroughly inform him of the long list of grievances I
held against
detention,” Ms. Garner assured me as she readied her book to begin the lesson.
I hadn’t even done anything. I gaped at Spencer in disbelief to gauge his
response and he shrugged back. Meanwhile, Cecelia managed to slip me a nasty look, which I pretended
not to see. What was her problem?
“Wow, Ms. Garner really doesn’t
like you,” Alexis whispered to me while Ms. Garner wrote something on the
board.
“Yeah, neither does that Cecelia
girl either.”
“ Still? What did you do to
her?!” Alexis’ eyes lit up. I had
quickly learned that the scent of fresh gossip to Alexis was the equivalent to
the scent of blood to sharks.
“Nothing! I never do anything!” I breathed irritably. Maybe I
just had a talent for repulsing people.
Unfortunately, my outburst hadn’t
been very quiet, because Ms. Garner turned around and wordlessly narrowed her
eyes at me.
I was really, really going to hate
this class.
Thanks to Ms. Garner’s sudden
display of concern for the way I used my red pen, she forgot to check that
everyone had completed the homework. So,
at the very least, I could pride myself in the fact that I had saved Alexis
from potential humiliation.
In gym, misfortune struck again
when the coach announced that we would all be playing a “fun and friendly” game
of dodge ball. In what world was
intentionally trying to hit other people with rubber balls fun and
friendly? Those two adjectives
contradicted the very nature of dodge ball itself.
Somehow I ended up in the first
game with Cecelia on the opposing team. Even in her gym uniform, she looked ready for a party, from her
perfectly pedicured toenails to her immaculately straight blond hair. She seemed relatively short surrounded by her
similar-looking friends who, like her, were wearing so much makeup that their
eyelashes looked like blackened brooms.
At that moment, Cecelia was leading
a discussion concerning potential interpretations of the text, “Hi," which
had, from what I could discern, been sent to her by a boy she had just met in
class. Her two friends clung to her
every word and ensured that the boy was definitely in love with her. As they tried to dissect the meaning of
“hi," I suppressed the urge to rain reality on their deluded train of
thought.
Five minutes later, the game still
hadn’t started, thanks to the coach’s inability to locate the dodge balls in
the storage room. Cecelia was still consulting her friends for advice on the
follow-up text. I sighed as she
confidently (and likely inappropriately) decided to reply with “Hey baby."
Cecelia then proceeded to complain
about how she was so fat, and how she would probably be better off without her
lunch. Her two friends fawned over her,
emphasizing that she was the perfect weight and much too pretty to go without a
day of food. I then began to realize
that these three people must have been the shallowest people on the entire
campus. I hadn’t known that girls could
so adamantly declare their flaws in a desperate attempt to fish for
compliments. Hell, I had never done it;
I thought it only happened in Mean Girls .
Finally, after a grand total of
seven minutes, the game started. I
wasn’t a very good shot, and most of my balls sailed out into open air without
a specific target.
Two minutes into the game, I
noticed that most of the balls flying at me were coming from Cecelia’s
direction. She was aiming every ball she
caught at my head. Was she intentionally
trying to maim me?
I didn’t have a death wish, so I
let one of her balls graze my arm, allowing me to go directly to the “out”
zone. I liked my head, and I had no
intention of letting Cecelia use it for target practice.
***
Although my dignity remained
intact, the dodge ball match left me sore and livid. That night, just as I was about to go to
bed, I called Matt to thoroughly inform him of the long list of grievances I
held against
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