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Chapter Two: Five to One
"Hippies? Why, I'm the original."—Jerry Lee Lewis
In eighth grade, we ruled the school. We'd strut down the halls, heads held high, glowering at any seventh grader who tried to stand up to us, and shouting at the sixth graders whenever we felt like it. Then, in high school, it was a complete 180. As a freshman, the sophomores punk'd us, the juniors all told us stuff about the school that practically made me piss in my pants, and the seniors—forget them; they did what every freshman dreaded about High School: informed us that the indoor pool was on the fourth floor—when there are only three!
As a junior, don't think I've broken free from the torture. The seniors were still there. The worse thing that ever happened was when I was a freshman, and the sophomore and junior girls stole my gym clothes. So, in gratitude for earning a zero that day, I stole their day clothes. (I'm an excellent lock picker). They were close to having their stupid, zit faced jock boyfriends beat me black and green.
Now, let me tell you about the fun part of my fourth week as a freshman in jail—I mean school! (Slip of the tongue, I swear). A bunch of sophomores ganged up on me and my friends because we're a bunch of hardcore/metal/classic rockers. (It shows, believe me, it shows). They started yelling at us about being drug addicts, suicidal, depressants, and Satanists.
At first, we ignored it. Me, Saito, Sano, and Shishio just continued talking about attending warp tour this spring. Then, one of the guys jumped in front of us and slapped Sano. Now, Sano…you don't mess with him whether you're a senior, college kid, whatever. The first time I saw him fight, was when some guy was messin with me and wouldn't leave me be, sos Sano came over and slammed one in his face, breaking the guy's jaw. Funny for me, not for the dude with the dislocated jaw.
Anyhow, before Sano could move, I jumped in front of the guy and was close to reorganizing his face, until Tokio came out of nowhere and collided head on with me, knocking us both clear off the bleachers. That resulted in three hours of unconsciousness, one of a screaming lecture, and a day in the hospital.
Let me get to the point: transferring to any other school would've been fine. I could've glowered, growled, and fought all I wanted, but here: in a PREP school; it was freshman year all over again!
I was in some sort of foreign land in a full, effective, John/Yoko peace community. They actually used peer mediation and talked out their fights rather than fighting them. They always smiled at each other and said 'hi' civilly. After two days of watching and inspecting it, it began to look forced. They forced themselves to have civil, decent conversations about—get this—the weather.
"Hi, how are you? Did you notice how cloudy it is?"
"Oh, yes! I believe that it might rain,"
"Yes, daddy read in the paper this morning that we are supposed to have three inches of it,"
Not even a single contraction. I wasn't even on earth anymore. Maybe Jupiter-but that's not the point! They freaking count the amount of rain we'll get! Aw, jeez…talk to me about a bunch of sticks…. Back where I come from, we don't care about how much rain we get, snow maybe, but never rain. Rain doesn't get us out of school.
You know, for a really "civil" and "friendly" school, they sure went out of their way to befriend me (note the sarcasm). People basically stared at me, and then turned away as soon as I met their gaze. During that first week, nobody spoke or approached me. Zilch. No one. I was pretty much on my own in a world completely upside down in my eyes. Everyone distanced themselves from me…. Snap! I could do the same!
"Miss Alice—"
"Misao,"
"Miss Misao, this is considered—"
One of the best schools in the country. Been there done that, get to it, lady.
"And I would highly appreciate it if you would come into school with something a bit more appropriate."
Okay. I am not a… school spirit person. I just can't do it. I mean, I hate going there, so what's the point of supporting something I hate? They've already forced me into a skirt and blazer… what more did they want from me?
"First of all, try wearing a bit more color. Not just black. And your make up…" she hesitated. Which confused me because I didn't wear make up. It was too girly for me. "Well…." She motioned toward my beloved converses. "You should consider buying new shoes. I don't want any of my students to look poor. Those are atrocious."
She's messin with my cons. You really don't mess with my cons. I love my shoes. They were the first pair that I actually bought with my own money. The first day I got them…I was so proud of myself that I vowed to wear them for as long as I could. (Actually, I just didn't have any money to buy a new pair right now). But still!
The bell gave a sudden shrill ring causing me to jump out of my shoes. The hall then began to empty of students as they headed for their next class. The principal looked back at me.
"Scurry to your next class now and maybe you'll make some new friends who'll teach you the dress code," she began to walk away and I stuck my tongue out at her back. Suddenly, she turned back around, my tongue flying back in its proper place at the same time. "I want you to go by the rules, Miss Joelle— "
"Misao."
"Misao. Abide by the rules…and I won't have to consider expelling you as I did to your father."
Whoa! Whoa! Okay, I knew this lady was old—but I didn't think she was that old! She actually remembered my father. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably a bad thing considering all the bad luck that's been following me around. She gave me a once over, then continued her way down the hall. I glanced down at the schedule clutched in my fist and gave a whoop of joy: my next period class: lunch. Lunch. My favorite time of the—well, the end of the day was actually my favorite time of the day—but lunch is my second favorite.
I took off down the scarily deserted hallway to the cafeteria, when suddenly—I collided head on with something—or rather someone. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and looked up angrily only to clash violently with the angriest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. The face it belonged to wasn't much friendlier either. Not to mention there were four other people glowering at me as well. Yeah… school was hell…. So was life.
