Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > Animos, Zoe
I raced down the hall, papers flying behind me. I rushed into the room and walked past my peers towards my seat. Halfway there, I heard:
“Ms. Bethard, you are tardy to my class for the third time this week. Please explain to the class why you are ruining their learning time.”
I hate Mr. Kennard’s fifth period history class.
“Erm… uh, I guess I was having trouble with my locker combo again. Sorry, Mr. Kennard. It won’t happen ‘gain.” I walked sheepishly to my seat, right next to Michel Devon.
“Nice one, Zoë. Don’t be late again tomorrow, or you know as well as anyone else he’ll report you to the principal, or worse, the counselor.”
“I know, I know. But it’s not my fault my forth period class is on the other side of the bloodie school! We need more passing time.”
After seventy horribly long minutes, history class was finally over.
“If I learn one more fact about the revolutionary war, my brain will explode!” Michel laughed. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be leaving you now. The Killer is coming for you, tardy pants. See you later!” And he was gone.
I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, Kennard the Killer was following me.
“Ms. Bethard, is there something wrong at home?” He studied my face, peering over his glasses and into my nightmares.
“No, other than the bloodie fact that my weekly allowance is more than your monthly pay.”
“Zoë, if you continue to give me smart responses like that, I’m going to have to report you to the principal. I’ve already written you a slip to go to the counselor, so go now. Feel free to tell her what you want.”
“Ughh, I hate bloodie school.”
A month later, my mum took me to a personal counselor.
“I’ll wait for your call at home, go ahead in and meet her. She’s helped lots of kids with their problems.”
I walked in and stopped to look at the bulletin board on my way in. There were all kinds of things, from lost pets to job offers to ads. I decided to look at the job offers. I was almost seventeen, so I was old enough to have a job if I wanted one. Hmmm… McDonalds, Fred Myers, Taco Bell… all low pay. Nothing good. I was about to walk away when something caught my eye. The job offer looked just the same as all the others, but it felt… different. I read the paper:
Depressed Teens Wanted
Depressed teens wanted for scientific testing. Very high pay. Safety guarantied. Professional scientists.
I didn’t read anymore. I took one of the phone number strips at the bottom of the page and walked up the stairs to Victoria’s office.
“’Ello? Victoria? Anyone there?” I opened the creaky door.
“I’m in the next door, Zoë. Come on.”
“Oh.” I looked the door number. 25, not 27. I turned to Victoria, who was standing outside her door, and said “I have a question about something on the bulletin board.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Something that had to do with a science experiment for depressed teens. I wanted to know what it was all about. You know?”
“I don’t remember someone posting anything like that. Why don’t you show it to me?”
We walked down the hall to the bulletin board. It wasn’t there. I looked all over the board, it just wasn’t there.
“Where is it?” She asked.
“I can’t find it. I took a strip off it…”
“Where is the strip? Show it to me, I might be able to take you to address.”
‘There was only a phone number.” I checked my pockets, only to find nothing. “It’s gone too. It’s all bloody gone!”
“Maybe you’re having delusions. Maybe~”
“I’m not bloodie crazy! Uahhh! I hate my bloodie life!” And I ran outside. I ran all the way to a nearby public library. It’s funny that that’s still the only bloodie place that can calm me down when I’m angry. They just have that effect on me.
I walked to an abandoned section of the library. I reached in my pocket for my cell phone, and guess what I found- the strip of paper with the phone number. Instead of calling my mom like planned, I ended up typing in the phone number for the science experiment. I mean, I was a depressed teen. The person that picked up sounded fairly nice, so I told her I was willing to be experimented on. She laughed. She made me tell her where I was and I did. She told me to wait out side, and to go to a white van with a blue A+ on it. So I did. I don’t know why. I just bloodie did.
“Ms. Bethard, you are tardy to my class for the third time this week. Please explain to the class why you are ruining their learning time.”
I hate Mr. Kennard’s fifth period history class.
“Erm… uh, I guess I was having trouble with my locker combo again. Sorry, Mr. Kennard. It won’t happen ‘gain.” I walked sheepishly to my seat, right next to Michel Devon.
“Nice one, Zoë. Don’t be late again tomorrow, or you know as well as anyone else he’ll report you to the principal, or worse, the counselor.”
“I know, I know. But it’s not my fault my forth period class is on the other side of the bloodie school! We need more passing time.”
After seventy horribly long minutes, history class was finally over.
“If I learn one more fact about the revolutionary war, my brain will explode!” Michel laughed. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be leaving you now. The Killer is coming for you, tardy pants. See you later!” And he was gone.
I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, Kennard the Killer was following me.
“Ms. Bethard, is there something wrong at home?” He studied my face, peering over his glasses and into my nightmares.
“No, other than the bloodie fact that my weekly allowance is more than your monthly pay.”
“Zoë, if you continue to give me smart responses like that, I’m going to have to report you to the principal. I’ve already written you a slip to go to the counselor, so go now. Feel free to tell her what you want.”
“Ughh, I hate bloodie school.”
A month later, my mum took me to a personal counselor.
“I’ll wait for your call at home, go ahead in and meet her. She’s helped lots of kids with their problems.”
I walked in and stopped to look at the bulletin board on my way in. There were all kinds of things, from lost pets to job offers to ads. I decided to look at the job offers. I was almost seventeen, so I was old enough to have a job if I wanted one. Hmmm… McDonalds, Fred Myers, Taco Bell… all low pay. Nothing good. I was about to walk away when something caught my eye. The job offer looked just the same as all the others, but it felt… different. I read the paper:
Depressed Teens Wanted
Depressed teens wanted for scientific testing. Very high pay. Safety guarantied. Professional scientists.
I didn’t read anymore. I took one of the phone number strips at the bottom of the page and walked up the stairs to Victoria’s office.
“’Ello? Victoria? Anyone there?” I opened the creaky door.
“I’m in the next door, Zoë. Come on.”
“Oh.” I looked the door number. 25, not 27. I turned to Victoria, who was standing outside her door, and said “I have a question about something on the bulletin board.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Something that had to do with a science experiment for depressed teens. I wanted to know what it was all about. You know?”
“I don’t remember someone posting anything like that. Why don’t you show it to me?”
We walked down the hall to the bulletin board. It wasn’t there. I looked all over the board, it just wasn’t there.
“Where is it?” She asked.
“I can’t find it. I took a strip off it…”
“Where is the strip? Show it to me, I might be able to take you to address.”
‘There was only a phone number.” I checked my pockets, only to find nothing. “It’s gone too. It’s all bloody gone!”
“Maybe you’re having delusions. Maybe~”
“I’m not bloodie crazy! Uahhh! I hate my bloodie life!” And I ran outside. I ran all the way to a nearby public library. It’s funny that that’s still the only bloodie place that can calm me down when I’m angry. They just have that effect on me.
I walked to an abandoned section of the library. I reached in my pocket for my cell phone, and guess what I found- the strip of paper with the phone number. Instead of calling my mom like planned, I ended up typing in the phone number for the science experiment. I mean, I was a depressed teen. The person that picked up sounded fairly nice, so I told her I was willing to be experimented on. She laughed. She made me tell her where I was and I did. She told me to wait out side, and to go to a white van with a blue A+ on it. So I did. I don’t know why. I just bloodie did.
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