Perfection is boring. When things are perfect, there’s no adventure, no fun. Just the same old, dull stuff without any color or spark in them.
I don’t know what to do. I’m leaving my home, my family and everything behind for 15 days to travel to the other part of the world, and I’m freaking out, to say the least. 😉 It’s like everything that used to be settled and quiet is doing cartwheels inside of me.
Not a bad feeling, though. Just frantic. And scary.
There’s a friend of mine who just adores ‘The Color of Awesome’, and her craziness is actually very encouraging. And lately, I’ve been missing Tyler a lot. How these two things add up together, I have absolutely no idea.
Talk about nervous breakdown or something.
It’s been too long since I sat down and wrote something, which annoys the living daylights out of me. For me, the best thing to do in the whole, wide world is to sit and write and lose myself in the lives of the characters I create.
Here’s a tiny part of ‘The Color of Awesome’, not in continuation with the last two parts I’d posted. Just tell me what you think, okay? 😀
‘How do you do, Miss Turner?’ Mr. Herzfeld, my homeroom as well as English teacher, asked me when I stepped inside the classroom.
It was, basically, my very first interaction with the other people at Illyria Academy apart from Cindy and the football team.
‘Fine, thanks.’ I smiled at him. He asked me to introduce myself to the people in the class, and when I did, they just stared blankly at me as if I’d landed there from some other planet or something. I hadn’t been that creative about my outfit this morning, given that I was up even before the birds, and when I’m sleepy, my brain sets itself of ‘Snooze’. I had blindly picked out the first thing that I could find in my closet—a pair of Levi’s and a black silk tee—and worn it with my Converse. Not bad, right? But standing there in front of all those people, I wanted to kick myself for not being watchful while dressing up.
Mr. Herzfeld was sweet as he only made me stand in front of the class for a minute, and then said, ‘You may take a seat, Miss Turner.’
This sounds like a simple thing, right? Just go and take a seat. But it wasn’t as easy as Mr. Herzfeld made it sound, because there was only one seat empty in the entire classroom, and guess who was sitting beside it?
Yep, that’s right—the captain of the football team (who, I’m sure hates my guts), Nick Walker.
So yeah, I had no option but to sit next to him, hoping he would choose to ignore me. But as soon as I sat down, the boy sitting two seats away snickered and went, ‘Oh, look at that! It’s the Queen of the Shims.’
Now, that wasn’t the kind of welcome I was expecting.
First, ‘shim’ in high school lingo means a girl who acts, talks and dresses like a boy, and I so don’t fall in that category. I mean, sure, I play football and had kicked the butt of the team captain on the very first day, but that gave no right whatsoever to a nonentity to go around making fun of me.
I looked up at him—and instantly recognized him from the football team as Olsen Jones, one of the wingbacks—and said, ‘And who are you supposed to be? Leader of the Mentally Challenged?’
‘What?’ he blinked at me, startled.
‘I’m sure you heard it.’ I said, relaxing back into my seat, ‘please don’t make me say it again.’
He spun around real fast to face the class, and God knows what the entire class started buzzing about later, but when I spared a glance at Nick, I saw he was staring intently at me with an almost vicious look in his eyes, as if he was going to shoot me. Olsen, however, looked like he was going to barf. Very soon.
And then out of nowhere, a paper landed on my disk with words scribbled on it in boxlike handwriting. It was from Nick.
Stay away from the team.
I looked up at him and exhaled, and then wrote down real quick. Not going to happen, big boy. That’s why I’m here.
He’d already seen what I was writing, because when he snatched the paper back from my hands, he seemed really peeved. When I got it back, I saw that he’d written it’s your funeral, Turner, and underlined ‘funeral’. Twice.
Thank God, I wasn’t there to make any friends.
Apart from Nick and Olsen, the rest of the class was quite nice to me. I wasn’t looking for friends, because Cindy is an army on her own, and I was sure nobody was going to like me, if they’d known Nick’s awfully deteriorated version of what had happened yesterday at football trial. And especially after what happened as soon as the bell rang for the second period.
No sooner had Mr. Herzfeld dismissed us than Olsen’s fist came down on my desk. A fist, I might add, that was as red as his face—with anger or embarrassment, I didn’t know. Frankly, I didn’t even care.
His eyes were glowing furiously at me. ‘Listen girlie, nobody talks back to me, you get it?’
‘You,’ I said, standing up and gathering my books ‘can go to hell, Olsen.’ I started to walk away when he caught me by the arm and spun me around.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he jeered at me, looking more stupid than dangerous.
‘Let go of my hand.’ I said, calmly, trying not to lose my temper.
‘Or what?’ he challenged. I saw the others had not gone out of the classroom, either. Everyone was standing there watching the jock bully the new girl. From their faces, it appeared like they half-expected me to get down on my knees and beg for mercy or something, and so did Olsen.
Boy, were they ever wrong.
‘Still not letting go of my hand.’ I reminded him one last time, but he rolled his eyes, acting bored.
That’s when I kicked him in the shins.
‘Ow!’ he yelped in pain as soon as my leg made contact with his knee. ‘You freaking witch! I’ll kill you!’ he kept on screaming his head off. Apart from Nick and a bunch of pretty tanned and perfectly dressed girls, nobody made any attempt to help him to his feet.
‘Sure, hon.’ I said to him over my shoulder, ‘you know where to find me.’ And then I was out.
Like it? Don’t like it? Let me know.
I met this stupid girl today who borrowed an eraser from me to correct her answers in a quiz (to cheat, basically), and you have absolutely no idea how much I laughed at her. 😀 I mean, seriously? A quiz is so important that you would stoop down to any level to appear good in front of others.
How cool is that? 😉
Okay, I got to go. Have Physics class at 6. See ya ❤