Facts remain, I wanna see you die.
I huffed at the sight of the sun peeking out of my window. It was Monday, again. Fuck, I hate Mondays.
I stood from my messy bed and folded my sheets. Then I placed the folded sheets on my pillow and stretched a little bit. It was 6AM, already. I scratched the back of my neck and pulled out some clothes and a towel from my cabinet. Then I worked my way over
to a door at the side of the room and took a nice, short and sweet shower. After that, I changed into my clothes. Which was my school uniform. Then I brushed my hair, put on some clean socks and slipped my feet in to the black leather shoes lying around.
I couldn't care about how messy my dorm room could be. No one else's gonna see it, anyway.
So I pulled out a bag from piles of clothes and took my room keys from a dresser and left the dorm before you could even say "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".
I moved briskly among the swaying blades of grass that hit my shoes as I stopped and placed one hand on my hip.
There was another "fund raiser" held by the president. Honestly, I think no student should have to care about those things.
Suddenly, she felt somebody tug on her bag. A number of books and papers fell out from an open zipper.
I regained my pace and noticed that my bag was a little lighter.
My bag zipper was open. Typical. But I distinctly remember closing it before I went down here. I spun around dramatically and looked at my school supplies scattered on the floor. A couple of students looked at me and laughed, then just walked away. I just stood there for a short while, then kneeled and picked up my books and assorted items. Just then, I heard a voice behind me.
"Need help, girly?"
The voice asked, in a rude tone...practically laughing.
I recognized the voice and stood up, stuffing the last notebook inside my bag and zipping it closed.
"Really, you need to pay more attention."
He scoffed, raising an eyebrow, giving me that infamous smirk.
I looked at him with an angry expression. He did this to me every Monday. This was one of the reasons why I hate Mondays. I hoisted my bag up my shoulder and put both my hands on my hips, now.
"What the fuck is your problem!?!?!?!"
I yelled, turning heads at a large radius.
I sighed and puffed some air, my hands clawing on both his shoulders.
"You wanna know my problem!?" He replied, grasping my hands that were practically pinned to his shoulders. "You're my problem!"
I looked at him with angry eyes. His face was red. It was from anger, I think.
This guy was probably my rival, my worst nightmare. He was Carlos Calderon, the asshole who's been there for me since my childhood. Yeah, he was there. As a jerk!
I remember him putting mustard in my rubber shoes during Physical Education back in first grade. I remember him stapling the two ends of my jacket back in winter time, and I remember him being the source of everything bad happening in my life.
"It's not like you're not my problem!"
I heavily retorted, removing both my hands from his shoulder, shoving him, and stomping towards the building. No matter what, this jackass would always find a way to make me hate him. HATE HIM.
Whew. That aside, I walked towards my locker at the
end of the hall, near the drinking fountain. I hated that spot since all the jocks always would get drinks from that drinking fountain, and they'd be gross, sticking their mouths to the nozzle. It grossed me out, but taught me an important lesson---never
drink at the drinking fountain.
After that, I encoded a secret code on my locker. Haha. It was my locker safe thing. You wouldn't understand...then turned the knob until the locker opened. Then I carelessly stuffed my bag in there and took out a single notebook. I slammed my locker door shut and plaidly walked the hall. I felt really lazy today. So...yeah. I dragged myself to class, not a moment too soon. Which means only one thing.
I was late.
The door swung open, revealing the whole class already seated in their places. The teacher looked at me, pretty pissed off. His glasses slid to the bridge of his nose, as he put both his hands on his desk and turned to me.
"You're late, again."
He said, making me care less. I looked at him from the door and gave a "sad" look, to woo his pissy-ness.
"It's not gonna happen again."
I replied, disrespectfully. This teacher was kinda like Calde to me. They're both asses.
"You should make sure, little missy! Or else it's gonna be detention for you!"
"Ah, I don't fucking care."
I said under my breath. Hopefully, he didn't hear me.
I looked around the room. From where I could see, there weren't any vacant seats left. I sighed and leaned on the wall. Then I turned back to that ass of a teacher.
"There're no seats left..."
He marveled at his class, and looked across the room from where I was standing. Then pointed to an empty seat beside the book shelves.
"There. There's a seat there."
I looked at where he was pointing at and hastily crossed from across the room. I stopped in front of the vacant seat when I noticed something disturbing.
"Why the hell does he have to sit behind me!?!"
I complained, pointing to that ass I was telling you earlier. He smirked, looking at me. I turned my back on him and looked back at the teacher.
"I'm sorry, but if you want a better seat, you have to be EARLIER to class. Do you know what I mean, miss Flores?"
He firmly counteracted to my complaint. I pouted and slumped on my chair, carefully observing everything. I have to be prepared for anything he might throw at me.
After a few seconds of silence from Calderon, I prepared to feel peace. I then sat up straight and listened to what the teacher had to implant in our brains.
This felt wrong.
Could it be that Calde was finally growing up?