And Then I Found Five Dollars
Chapter One: The Shoes That Changed a Girl
"¡Hola, clase! ¿Cómo están ustedes?"
She totally expects us all to reply to her question with some answer that's in Spanish when it's really stupid of her to expect that because it is so obvious that none of us speak the dang language. Why else would we be in Spanish class? I felt my lip sneer into this disgusted curl as I leaned further onto my perched arm, sighing, and preparing for my daily nap.
Plenty of other students readied themselves for their own nap, and this one girl who I heard got syphilis last year from this douche named Kiba Inuzuka—did I mention he's a douche—reached into her backpack and pulled out her bright pink fluffy pillow with golden stitching that read Princess. I scoffed. More like whore/slut/sex slave.
I've heard so much about that girl, I swear. I mean, normally I would've believed that Kiba gave her something, but the chances of her already having syphilis and giving it to him are exceedingly higher. Speaking of whores, just seconds away from my eyes sliding and slipping closed, Ami Watanabe ran into the room, slamming the door behind her.
My back went ramrod straight and I outwardly growled at the purple haired freak monster. A few people stared at me with question marks above their heads, to which I flicked them off, continuing my angry seething at Ami.
She was heaving, out of breath when she asked, "Did I miss the bell; am I late?"
My eyes narrowed in pure pity for this girl's mother. If the bell rings, which it did like ten minutes ago, then you are late. Which you are. These words escaped my cherry colored lips quietly, whispering them in between giggles at my seat neighbor. She released a hushed cackle of laughter, as well as those closest to me whom I didn't necessarily tell, and they soon gave me my props, sharing fist bumps and ruffling my hair.
Mrs. Dominguez snapped her wrinkly three-chinned neck in my direction. "What was that, Ms. Haruno?"
"I didn't say nothing," I smirked lightly, excitement enticing in me when the sleepers in the room rose. "You old bat, why don't you get your damn ears checked? Probably missing a freaking drum, or something."
She gasped dramatically, slapping a hand to her nonexistent chest and scuttled in her pumps to her desk, floundering to yank open The Drawer. I saw her pull out a pad of bright highlighter yellow papers and take her pen with a crappy piece of fabric taped onto the side in the design of a Mexican flag. While the ink scratched onto the colored paper, Ami strolled in my direction, skirt hiking up her butt with each exaggerated sway of her hips as she walked.
Her legs where bare despite the fact that it was the end of the summer and temperatures were dipping lower—we were lucky if we got a degree higher than seventy these days. Down her, admittedly and very not in a gay way, long and smooth Barbie doll legs were heels just short of the stripper-regulated height. Her shirt stopped just below her belly button and I continued my eyes on their path to hers, this weird brown but not really color that was icy, obviously aimed in my direction. She smiled. "Nice going, Cherry," Ami fingered a loose wisp of her hair behind her ear and cocked her head to the side. "Seems like you still got it in you. Congratulations."
I popped my feet on my desk, examining my brand new shoes for anything that wasn't supposed to be there. They were these kickass custom edition Vans, 106s, with the vamp all black and gray checkerboard and the rest all-fucking pink. Even the damn laces were pink—I bribed the people to let me get the fucking eyelets pink; it was that freaking serious that I looked bomb as hell. And I did.
After finishing my examination, I yawned, stretching my arms. "What did you want, Watanabe?" I asked the girl, who was still trying to claim my desk as her corner. Mrs. Dominguez found me after minutes of searching the room for the only girl in the school with pink hair and handed me my Dean's Slip with a huff. She crossed her noodle-like arms and began her escapade to the center of the room.
Ami giggled, wiping a tear from her ugly face. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm congratulating you, Cherry?"
I gathered my books into my backpack and slung the contraption over one of my shoulders, looping my arm through the spot allotted on the other strap. I stared contemplatively at Ami. "Why are you congratulating me?" I paraphrased.
"Your cherry, Cherry," she let a conniving grin split her lip-glossed lips, "I heard you got it popped, yeah? It took you long enough."
My face blared as red as a siren and I instinctively shoved my hands, of which were condensing themselves into fists rapidly, into my pockets, and millions of curses were on the tip of my tongue. What type of bitch has the audacity to even...who even raises such a snake? Lowly, I seethed, pointing a sharp finger at her, "You—you Ami Watanabe are the biggest fucking bitch I have ever," I paused, clearing the red from my eyes, "known in my damn life. I hope you burn in hell."
"I'll be seeing you there, honey."
Beats of silence passed as I seriously contemplated getting my third strike against me for the fighting rule, the image of myself pummeling Ami to the ground with nothing but my bare fists growing more favorable with each passing second. I could see it, her squealing and trying to cover her face, squirming as I repeatedly beat her face into the ground. Blood would gather on my fists; however that was just an extra, something that I would consider awesome to have, if only it was hers.
Mrs. Dominguez let her accented tone slow, noticing that the whole classes' attention had been averted to Ami and I, and the people nearest her were betting how long it would take until I couldn't take it anymore and snatched a bitch. The elderly woman crooned, "S-Sakura, get out of this—!"
"I'm leaving!" I yelled, turning sharply away from Ami, but not before I got my warning glare in. "Goddamn woman, you already gave me the slip, I know where I need to go." I muttered, swinging the door open, "You must think I'm stupid."
My back thudded hard against the brick that belonged to the side of the school building, way in the abandoned half where nobody bothered to go—not even the security guards. It was for that reason my friends and I all gathered back here; there were no cameras, no security, and no teachers.
I was still peeved about what happened in Spanish. It wasn't so much the fact that Mrs. Dominguez had given me the Dean's Referral in the first place, since I swear that my locker is overflowing with yellow papers so much that if I opened the little rectangle it would be like a massive regurgitation of highlighter. Point made, the slip was the least of my problems. It was what that…ugh…I can't even fathom thinking the whore's name. How dare she even say something so vile when she knows it's untrue?
My eyes widened slightly, snapping out of my temporary angry lapse as Zaku flipped his lighter, an orange flare of fire emitting. I stared at him silently with slightly agitated eyes for so long that he paused in lighting another cigarette, tilting the box in my direction. He lifted a thin dark eyebrow, "You want one or something?"
Pink locks shook as shook my head from left to right, "No," I spat in disgust. "You know I don't smoke, you dumb ass."
"Then why you looking at me like that then?" He demanded, retorting quickly. I could tell he was growing irritated with me for taking so long with letting him know what I was talking about, and that I was holding up his cigarette time. I rolled my eyes, scoffing. It wasn't as if he couldn't light the death stick and listen at the same moment.
I glanced around the back corner, noticing that many other eyes were watching, their attention diverted by Zaku's sharp order. My heart collided with my chest as it sped faster, pounding roughly against my ribcage, and reluctantly I slid a few inches closer to the pale brunet.
Cupping my hand around his ear I whispered, "This bitch today said I lost my v-card…," I paused, quarrying if I should add any more information, "In Spanish." I added quickly.
Zaku lifted his lip, grimacing roughly. "So? Didn't that happen like ten thousand years ago?"
My mouth opened slightly in complete shock, lost for words. Admittedly, I stuttered for a few beats, arguing with myself on whether I should ask where on the planet he got that idea, but Zaku had already lit his smoke, readily inhaling the toxic fumes. His eyes were closed in relaxation, or so it seemed, and by now he was probably far out of this world.
Frustratingly, I snapped my mouth shut and growled lowly. So, that was what kind of friend he was, just outright and tell one of your girl friends that you think that they are a whore and go on smoking. My face heated red with contained angry, and hurriedly I swiped my purse from the ground and brushed any dirt off my jeans, muttering curses all the while.
I sent my gaze toward the so-called Demon Brothers, attempting to gather enough grass, dirt, sticks, and other flammable objects to burn their ever-beloved pot. Too engrossed, they seemed to know not of my enraged stare demanding their acknowledgement, and I grumbled a completely new string of curses, grabbing the largest stick I could find in our corner. I grasped it, tossing it in my bare palm a few times before hurling it toward the siblings.
"Hey jerk-offs!" I called just moments before my log collided with their miniature campsite style fire pit, destroying it. They jumped simultaneously, covering their respective faces. Instantly, they looked at me, glaring. Before words could exit mouths, I beat them to it. "Tell Zaku that I'm going to class, alright?"
They shared glances, obviously confused. "Eh?" Gozu quirked, his face contorting into the definition of confused. His brother, Meizu, seemed to agree, nodding his head slowly and looking me over at the same speed, calculatingly. He tapped his forefingers together, smirking crookedly. "Yeah, Cherry, ya never go to class; what happened?"
I grumbled, gathering another heavy looking object, this time a rock. "Maybe if we keep talking unnecessarily after I told you what I wanted, this rock will collide with your skull and tell you what the fuck happened, Meizu." I had no reason to like the sleazebag, and because of that, I made no attempt to hide how much I despised the younger of the brothers. To be honest, the only reason I associated myself with them was for the free smoke. Even so, I had yet to ask them for any, let alone accept any of their offers. Admittedly, I was a little scared; however, I wasn't going to let anyone know that.
Gozu and Meizu had made a huddle and began speaking in broken sentences, ones that only they would understand, and eventually Gozu turned to me smiling goofily. "Okay, Cherry-chan, we will tell Zaku for you. Meizu is sorry for making you mad."
"No, I ain't sorry for making no bitch mad!"
"But, Meizu, it's not nice to be mean."
"What the hell do I look like? Elmo? Barney? I don't care about nice and shit—we haven't even started yet and you're dumb as hell already."
"That's not n…"
It was at that moment that I decided their pointless banter was no way to be wasting my time and I turned on my heel, dropping the rock on the soft earth, leaving behind the jagged edges that were upon it.
I usually try to avoid going to my sixth period class. It isn't that I don't like the subject, no, I actually love Math. It is the only thing that I honestly do understand in this world, and it's for that reason that I really do consider even gracing the school with my presence every day. The only excuse that my brain can conjure for my absences in Geometry would be that the class is at an Honors level, and half those people are such snobs and jerks that I would rather not associate myself with.
Being honest, I'm sure that most all people in my class came from North, our 'sister' school or whatever, but if that school is our sister, it is most certainly a case of Cinderella, wherein we are the abused darling, and North is spoiled like the royal stepsisters. I don't hate everyone who goes to or went to that school, because deep in the depths of the sea of stank that consists at Konoha North, there are some cool people. However, I most reiterate some heavily. My guess would be that the maximum amount of people I would be able to tolerate would be fifteen—maybe twenty if a couple of my cousins hadn't moved away over the summer.
Many people travel to South after attending North because the bills just get too high. I don't understand because, as far as I know, we're both public schools and the pay should still be the same, right? Maybe they get new shit every year or something.
So, anyway, true to my word to the Demon Brothers, I was going to this class. Walking in the deserted hallways and skillfully avoiding all the security desks and cameras—I'm sure I'm more than thirty minutes late, and after ten they start handing out Dean's Referrals. I'm not afraid of the yellow slip, no, I'm just afraid of multiple yellow slips because those things really do add up. Moreover, I heard that sophomores might actually go on a decent fieldtrip this year that's not to some old lady's house to study something that I could've done an experiment on in my own kitchen. I would really like to go on a nice fieldtrip for once, and Referrals can seriously deter my chances of going—I headed toward my classroom that I had only been in once, and that was to steal a calculator.
Haphazardly, I turned a corner into the Math department building, hugging my jacket closer to my body. Guards especially liked hanging out here, eating their donuts like fat-asses, laughing about the good old days when they weren't seventy pounds obese. I caught a whiff of the faded black material and groaned; I smelled legit like pot. Silently I wrestled off the sweater and stuffed it into my purse, bearing only layered camisoles that I felt less than comfortable in without a jacket of some sort. I quickly checked if I was decently shaved, deodorized, you know, that hygienic stuff, and having a checkmark in all aspects, I walked forward, pulling a handy piece of pink paper out of my back pocket.
I waved it in front of the guards. They were most all pale and fat and balding with these ugly liver spots that suggested that they were honestly too old to be 'guarding' a high school. Well, this high school. The man nearest me finished shoving his pink frosted with rainbow sprinkles donut into his mouth then wiped his chubby fingers off on his fancy pants.
He cleared his throat. "How may I help you, young lady?"
"I'm new," I grinned, tugging at the very strands of muscle around my mouth that were worn from neglect. "Can you point me to the direction of the bathroom please?"
Black beady eyes study me for a long while, and, feeling anxious with my palms growing sweaty, I glanced at the others. They were all studying me as well, and just as I was about to ask what the problem was in my falsely sweet voice, the assumed leader wagged his finger in my face. "You're not new," He said slowly.
My eyes widened slightly and my throat began to constrict. I played this off as surprise, laughing dryly. "Yes, I am, sir. I've moved here from Sound just a few days ago. The bathroom, please?"
He narrowed his eyes further. "I'm not believing it," my heart feel as the strings of my lie spun out of control faster than what I could see, "You're on the board list under 'Most Wanted'."
If I hadn't been acting, I would've pulled a face that described how I felt about the staff of this school in relation to their idiocy. A 'Most Wanted' board? Really? How low down on the list do you have to be to need a wanted list so your guards and other teachers know what students to look out for, the ones that will probably bomb the school without a second thought. The idea seemed extremely unnecessary to me, but, then again, most of my friends were those that would most likely be on the list, their yearbook picture serving as some sort of mug shot.
A heavy pause filled the silence as I inwardly laughed at the employees' stupidity, and, thinking quickly I pointed to my hair. "Oh, oh, Sakura? Haruno? That's my cousin."
"…really now?" Another man questioned. "Is that so?"
I nodded, laughing, making sure to angle myself in his direction. "Our mother's always said we looked very much alike."
Reluctantly, it seemed, the leader of the band of Math building security guards pointed me in the direction of the bathrooms, still wary of my story. He continued to eye me carefully as I made my way down the hallway, continuing on my path to the restroom, and I stopped suddenly looking at them all.
I grinned widely, "Thank you so much. You're really the first people to be nice to me all day."
The one holding the fold-up box of Dunkin Donuts waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly, embarrassed. "Aw, shucks, don't tell such a lie, darling."
"No, I'm being honest, sir."
Konoha South has tile flooring so if a teacher or somebody of importance—or just some ho—walks by in super heels or stilettos, I can hear them at least three minutes away. The silence that existed in the hall nearest the bathroom was actually a little unsettling, since it was the bathroom hallway, and there always seemed to be people loitering around. This lead me to creep a little more carefully around the corners and down the halls, and, sooner than I thought I would, I reached the 'abandoned' Ladies room that no one used because, like, three years ago, some chick died in there while she was taking a crap.
Well, that's what I heard, anyway.
I pushed the swinging door open with the bottom of my shoe, against touching the door with my bare arms, and I walked in, bombarded by the strong stringent smell of pee and overused perfume. I stepped around suspicious puddles, all the while pulling my jacket out of my purse, along with a hanger. I situated the hooded fleece on the hanger and hung it against the first stall, turning and looking around for the little container of air freshener that was normally above the paper towel dispenser.
Reaching up for the metal cylinder, I shook it a couple times only to find that it was essentially empty. I groaned, rested it upon the sink, and dug back into my purse, feeling around for the only perfume bottle I owned. Feeling the round sphere, I pulled out the bottle and examined it. Having about four ounces left, I decided that would have to be enough, and I placed it next to the aerosol spray.
I studied the air freshener. Supposedly, it was lavender scented, and I examined the ingredients section of the bottle out of sheer curiosity.
Musing, "Guess this'll work," I twisted the cap off and turned on the sink, guesstimating how much a quarter cup of water was. When the cylinder was essentially heavy enough, I popped open my own perfume and poured the remains of my perfume into the container. I snapped the cap back onto the aerosol and shook it vigorously, mixing the scents. Half way through the process, I wondered how well tropical vacation and lavender smells smelled together, but, at this point there was nothing to do.
I tested the concoction before spraying it onto my jacket, and smiling, pleased with myself, I began misting my whole jacket over, hoping that it was strong enough to bury the fumes of smoke. I don't even honestly remember how long I've been un-stinking my jackets by these means, or how long I've been collecting all these perfumes just for these reasons. Usually, I used them before school was over, in preparation for going home on the bus. I suppose the thought of going to an Honors class did shake me a bit, and despite myself, I found myself admitting that I was a little worried about what they would say, for some reason.
They're nothing but a bunch of spoiled rich brats that can no longer pay the bills, and if not that, the loans were piling up to high, or they're just too smart for their own good and ended up in an Honors class at this dump. The only classes to take seriously are the Honors level, since only geniuses could fathom and dream making it to AP.
I kept telling myself just those words as I smelled my jacket over again, satisfied, and slung it back over my shoulders and zipping my hanger back into my purse. Those people I shouldn't even worry about, they aren't affecting my life, they aren't even involved in my life, actually.
Catching a glance at myself from the mirror as I turned to leave, and something caused me to stop, drawn into my own appearance. I looked pale, milky almost, but in a grayish way, ghostly. My eyes were a dull, lifeless green, strikingly opposing to the way I would view myself in my mind's eye. The colors were diluted; even my hair that most all people would agree was a bubbly color. It looked—I looked washed out and tired, as if someone had looked me indoors for months and my skin was deprived of the sun, and I was in serious need for some Vitamin D. More than anything, I looked sad, very sad, behind the strong ploy and mask I put on, I looked sad.
The sounds of squeaky new gym shoes squealing against the tile ripped me from my momentary lapse, and, listening closer to the sound I could hear that it was heading toward the bathroom, this bathroom, and I felt a jolt of adrenaline run through my body. I skipped into the nearest stall and closed the door shut, being careful to lock it without a sound. I sat on top of the toilet, resting my feet on the seat.
Soon enough, I could distinguish multiple shoes crying, and snobbishly high-pitched voices making their way closer. I heard the door swing open and slam against the opposite wall, and my heart was in my throat.
"Oh my gosh," one person cried, standing in front of the mirror. "I cannot believe how tortuous that class is, can you?"
From looking under the little inch or two gap at the bottom of the stall, I could see three pairs of feet, around the area of the sinks. Therefore, they were all at the mirrors, most likely fixing make up while ditching class. Snobs, they were. I considered exiting the stall after falsely flushing, until words of interest exited a different mouth.
She smacked her lips together, probably putting on lip-gloss. "Ladies, guess what scoop I got from the manager at Plush," she said with this intrigue in her voice that got me interested, even though Plush is the most girly store in Maple Leaf mall ever, with all these pink fluffy things and sparkles and glitter. I swear that every time I pass by there I get a shiver from just the sheer possibility of even entering, let alone working, at the place. I would get some disease from an excess amount of estrogen. Still, because of the tone of this girl's voice, I just had to hear what she had to say about what the manager was saying.
A girl closest to me gasped, clapping. "Do tell," she exclaimed.
From my secret place, I rolled my eyes, trying to hold in my laughter.
"So, you know how we're, like, together, right?" The girl in the middle of which I was quickly learning was the Head Bitch of the trio started. "He told me that we're going to get these hot new uniforms to go with the remodel, and—oh! The best part is the new shoes!"
"What kind?" The other two squealed, voicing my own question. Unbeknownst to me, I was leaning closer to the floor, trying to hear the conversation more clearly.
Dramatically pausing, the leader waiting until my anxiety was at its highest. I hoped that they were... "Nike Dunk High Retro's—custom styling for each worker, of course."
Unable to contain myself anymore I screamed out of pure ecstasy, loud and shrilling, and before I could stop it, I stumbled from the safety of the tank lid, falling ungracefully to the bathroom stall floor. After the original shock left me, and the idea of being on the dirty restroom ground somehow completely flew out my mind, I continued shrieking, pure happiness running through my veins.
I've always…always…always wanted those shoes! That's a whole new ballpark, that's a whole new fucking league! That's like going from the bench in D-League to MVP and championship winner in one year! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Those shoes are like, worth more than all the things that are stuffed in my closet! They make my shoes that I have on right now look like what came out of my dog's woohoo when she was in heat. This. Is. The. News.
"O.M.G., what type of freak is that, like, scareeming in there?" The girl with the most obnoxious voice drawled, sounding as if she had been in the biggest shock of her whole life.
That sleazy voice tore me from my joyous world, and I speedily gathered myself, waited a second until I flushed the bathroom, and then walked out of the small cubicle with my head held high. "I apologize; I just got my period…thought I was preggers," I lied with a straight face as they eyed me all blankly. "If you would ever so kindly allow me to wash my hands, I'll be on my way."
As a fan opening, they dispersed two to the right and one to the left, the head with fiery red hair and thick-rimmed glasses continued looking solidly with wine red eyes, her counterparts making no move to stop their giggling. It wasn't until I turned on the water and pumped the foaming soap into my palms that the red eyes left me and flicked harshly to the girls, successfully hushing them.
She scoffed, "My Kami, you guys are such idiots," she spat. "Get my make up bag and we'll head back to class."
When I was sure they left, the bathroom door clicking closed, I pumped my fists, excitement running haywire within my body. "Shannaro, bitch, Shannaro!" I yelled in between thrusts.
I was going to get those shoes even if meant working at Plush. So, suck on that, generalizations, suck on that.
A/N: If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I promise to answer them all!
I have a question, though: Do you think because of language this should be rated M?
Thanks and review!