Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
A.N - Hello peoples!! Okay, this is my first story-thing on Ficwad... in fact it's the first time anyone has read my stories apart from the odd teacher. Please go easy on me. Anyway, onwards to the first chapter!
Pandora Clarke wriggled impatiently in her seat at the back of the classroom. She hated maths. She leant back on the unstable plastic chair, teetering dangerously on the hind legs, put her earphones in and attempted to balance her pencil on the bridge of her nose, without success. "Pandora!" Mrs Foster barked, bringing Pandora abruptly back to reality as she wobbled precariously on her seat, almost crashing to the floor in shock. "As you are the brightest student of your year, I fully expect your complete and undivided attention at all times. Do I make myself clear?"
"I assure you, Mrs Foster, I was listening to your every word." Pandora said without hesitation in the most innocent tone she could muster. Mrs Foster raised her eyebrows in disbelief, silently challenging Pandora to prove her statement, "The answer to your earlier question of the square route of one hundred and eighty three is thirteen point five three." Pandora smiled sweetly. Mrs Foster glared at her, fuming that she had once again been outsmarted by her most abnormally intelligent pupil. Accepting defeat, the teacher turned back to her only friend, the whiteboard. At the end of the lesson, Pandora gathered up her belongings swiftly in an effort to avoid the impending taunting that would no doubt be waiting outside the classroom door.
Tiffany Jones, the most popular (and feared) girl at Elizabeth Laurence School for Girls, cornered Pandora as she emerged from the classroom. "Boxy!" Tiffany squealed in faux excitement. Pandora sighed, annoyed that she had been called by her much despised nickname. "What do you want, Barbie?" She retaliated. Pandora desperately wanted to escape to the cafeteria - she could practically hear her pizza calling her name. Tiffany frowned slightly at the name Pandora had christened her with,but quickly rearranged her features into an artificially pleasant smile "Oh nothing... you have such nice hair Boxy." Tiffany reached out and gently took a piece of Pandora's hair as Pandora eyed her apprehensively, scrutinising Tiffany's face for any trace of maliciousness in her expression. Pandora opened her mouth to say something, but Tiffany pulled sharply on the hair she was holding, making Pandora cry out in pain as she felt every individual strand of her long ebony hair being ripped from her scalp. "Oops, sorry. I guess you'll have to cover that up somehow," Tiffany said, pointing to the small bald patch that adorned the side of Pandora's head, "Well good luck with that, Boxy!" Tiffany giggled girlishly, letting the hair that she had mercilessly dragged from Pandora's head drop carelessly to the floor and strutted down the corridor with her lemmings trotting behind her, gossiping amongst themselves.
Pandora stood hopelessly before the mirror in the girls bathroom, which was vacant, much to her relief, due to everyone being at lunch (all the good food went first). She spent a good fifteen minutes trying to get her impossible hair to cover the work of Tiffany Jones and making herself look presentable: She reapplied her mascara which had been streaming down her face only a few minutes ago and outlined her stormy grey eyes with her favourite eyeliner. She then fixed her compulsory uniform which consisted of a white blouse, grey skirt and a deep purple and yellow blazer with a striped tie of the same revolting colours. Once satisfied, Pandora headed to lunch.
She stood outside the cafeteria, composing herself before she took the walk of shame. If she was going to survive the next half hour she would have to strategically make her way through the dozens of tables to find her best friend, Lindsey. Eventually, after collecting her so-called 'lunch' and finding a safe route through the maze of tables as to avoid Tiffany, Pandora sat herself down heavily next to a concerned looking best friend. "Don't even say it! "Pandora said firmly, holding up her hand to halt Lindsey's questions. It annoyed her that Tiffany thought it was amusing to tell the entire cafeteria that she had just physically hurt someone and act like it was something to be proud of. Lindsey smiled sympathetically at Pandora, "Okay I won't mention it, just don't let them get to you. They're not worth it, Dora."
"Thanks, and don't worry, I wouldn't give them the satifaction."The pair smirked at each other and returned to eating their lunch in companionable silence.
After lunch, Pandora had to endure a disastrous last lesson of Biology, in which the students were told they were going to redo the frog dissection they had previously attempted in year eight. By the end of the hour, Pandora realised that nothing had changed when it came to her classmate's immaturity; at least four of Tiffany's followers had 'fainted' dramatically, most of the less squeamish girls were putting on some sort of Broadway show with their frogs by making them dance on their flimsy hind legs in a very green chorus line; the science teacher, Mr Armstrong, had given up halfway through the lesson and had gone to the staff room for a much needed pick-me-up coffee, and Pandora and Lindsey were left to do their own thing, not that they had a problem with that, of course. At three fifteen Pandora hugged Lindsey goodbye and told her she would call for her on Monday as she always did on schooldays; Lindsey couldn't be trusted to get out of bed on time without Pandora's rude wakeup calls which consisted of a variety of complaints and insults. As she watched Lindsay run down the driveway of the school, Pandora felt her mobile phone vibrate in the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out the phone and peered at the screen. It was a text from her brother, Phoenix. It said:
Dora, gone to see a movie. Don't come and meet me, tell Jane and Bill that I'll be back around 7pm. Love you, Phoenix. Xx
Pandora sighed happily. If she didn't have to go and meet Phoenix at the gates of the West Peak Preparatory School for Boys, she could take her short cut through the local cemetery, which Phoenix refused to do. He hated cemeteries; he said it felt disrespectful to disturb the peace for no good reason. Pandora shook her head as she thought of her brother. She often found him tedious and as much as she loved him, she found his extensive knowledge exhausting, despite the fact that she was above average herself. Pandora trudged along the winding streets, dialling her home phone number and waiting for Bill to pick up. There was no answer, so she left a message explaining that Phoenix would be home late and that she would be home a little later than usual as well.
As she walked slowly down the lane leading to the cemetery, enjoying the watery January sunshine, her thoughts once again turned to her brother. Phoenix was Pandora's twin. Jane and Bill always said he was the dominant twin. This, to Pandora, was a polite way of saying that he was the bossy one, even before they were born. Not much had changed. Although Pandora could fight her own battles, she always relied on Phoenix for protection, he was her saviour, the one who always came to her rescue at just the right moment. He had a gift for that - saving the day. Jane was positive that they had some kind of subconscious telepathic connection. Jane and Bill were Pandora and Phoenix's adoptive parents. The twins were abandoned at a couple of weeks old by their birth parents, who apparently couldn't handle a child, let alone two. When the siblings started school, their fellow classmates easily noticed the difference between Bill and Jane and their 'offspring'. Pandora had always had black hair. The blackest of black. On the other hand, Phoenix had been blessed with the most striking white blonde hair, which Jane often described as 'angel's tresses', much to his embarrassment. Both Bill and Jane had fiery red hair that grew in wild untameable curls and seemed to grow outward rather than downward. The twins had been told about their past from an age of capable understanding and were never denied answers that could be given to them. Pandora had always respected that, and appreciated Bill and Jane's honesty.
Pandora pulled herself away from thoughts of her family and realised that she had reached the large iron gates of the cemetery. She continued through the gates at an easy pace, stopping occasionally to read a random headstone along the way. The daylight was starting to drain, leaving an eerily beautiful sunset and the beginning of the night sky. Pandora loved the dark, she loved lying in bed at night staring into nothingness. She smiled as she halted her steps and stared at the huge granite angel that she had adored so much as a child. The angel that had lost an arm and whose nose was starting to wear away. The angel that would always hold so many memories. She sighed and continued on her journey, maintaining her slow and steady pace, the approaching darkness failing to worry her. After becoming lost in a world of her own, she suddenly heard some soft footsteps behind her. Pandora whipped her head around to find the culprit of the footsteps. There was nothing there, so she scolded her imagination and carried on walking. For a few seconds, she didn't hear the steps and this calmed her immensely. Until, of course, they started up again. Only this time, instead of it being one pair, it sounded like there was several people behind her. Pandora didn't scare easily but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end and her legs turn to jelly. She once again, against her better judgement, swivelled her body fully to face the mysterious sound. Nothing. Pandora was starting to panic now: something wasn't right. She felt like she was playing the part of the victim in a horror film. She turned back to her path home and screamed in shock. In front of her stood a group of people, both men and women. They were all dressed identically; black lace up military boots, black baggy jeans and a plain shirt in, well, black. They looked like the Goths that Pandora used to see sitting on the swings in the park every afternoon after school. One of them wielded a knife larger than Pandora could have ever imagined. The largest man, who Pandora assumed was the leader of the group, spoke, "Now girly, no need to be afraid. We only want you dead." He smirked and the others laughed.
Pandora stood speechless in fear. She could not believe this was happening. Why her? What had she ever done? The only crime she had ever committed was when she was five years old and she had stolen a toffee from the pick'n'mix at the local supermarket. Pandora felt a sudden urge to laugh, as she always did in situations that required the complete opposite. She held it in and took a few steps backwards away from the group of people, preparing to run in the opposite direction, but her getaway plans were halted when she felt a sharp object between her shoulder blades. Pandora had had enough. "Who are you, you freaking sadists?!" She cried in frustration. The man behind her snorted in amusement. Whilst trying to avoid the blade that was now being held across her throat, Pandora threw her head back and butted the brute who was holding her captive right in the face, causing him to drop the knife and clutch his bleeding nose. Quick as a flash, Pandora bent down and picked up the blade. She held it out in front of her, like an unspoken warning to anyone willing to try anything. The rest of the Goth-like people stared in amazement in the few seconds that it took for Pandora to disarm her captor. Their gawping quickly turned to utmost amusement. Each and every one of them then drew a weapon from their person. Pandora gasped in realisation. "You really thought that only one of us would be armed? Give up Pandora," sneered the leader. Pandora frowned. "How do you know my name?" she asked, unable to hold her tongue. Another member of the group spoke, a woman this time, "We've been looking for you, sweetheart, and you definitely haven't made it easy. Anyway, enough of all this friendly chitchat, lets get down to business." Before Pandora could even register the groups movements, they lunged at her.
Where was Phoenix when she needed him?
Okay, I might not continue with this, I'm just testing the waters at the moment. This is completely new to me, but I might update. It depends really on how the first chapter is recieved. Please Rate & Review, it would be really nice to get some feedback. Thanks!
P.S - Metaphorical cookie for the first person to guess why Pandora's nickname is Boxy... pretty easy but I just wanted to make sure people understood. :) x
Pandora Clarke wriggled impatiently in her seat at the back of the classroom. She hated maths. She leant back on the unstable plastic chair, teetering dangerously on the hind legs, put her earphones in and attempted to balance her pencil on the bridge of her nose, without success. "Pandora!" Mrs Foster barked, bringing Pandora abruptly back to reality as she wobbled precariously on her seat, almost crashing to the floor in shock. "As you are the brightest student of your year, I fully expect your complete and undivided attention at all times. Do I make myself clear?"
"I assure you, Mrs Foster, I was listening to your every word." Pandora said without hesitation in the most innocent tone she could muster. Mrs Foster raised her eyebrows in disbelief, silently challenging Pandora to prove her statement, "The answer to your earlier question of the square route of one hundred and eighty three is thirteen point five three." Pandora smiled sweetly. Mrs Foster glared at her, fuming that she had once again been outsmarted by her most abnormally intelligent pupil. Accepting defeat, the teacher turned back to her only friend, the whiteboard. At the end of the lesson, Pandora gathered up her belongings swiftly in an effort to avoid the impending taunting that would no doubt be waiting outside the classroom door.
Tiffany Jones, the most popular (and feared) girl at Elizabeth Laurence School for Girls, cornered Pandora as she emerged from the classroom. "Boxy!" Tiffany squealed in faux excitement. Pandora sighed, annoyed that she had been called by her much despised nickname. "What do you want, Barbie?" She retaliated. Pandora desperately wanted to escape to the cafeteria - she could practically hear her pizza calling her name. Tiffany frowned slightly at the name Pandora had christened her with,but quickly rearranged her features into an artificially pleasant smile "Oh nothing... you have such nice hair Boxy." Tiffany reached out and gently took a piece of Pandora's hair as Pandora eyed her apprehensively, scrutinising Tiffany's face for any trace of maliciousness in her expression. Pandora opened her mouth to say something, but Tiffany pulled sharply on the hair she was holding, making Pandora cry out in pain as she felt every individual strand of her long ebony hair being ripped from her scalp. "Oops, sorry. I guess you'll have to cover that up somehow," Tiffany said, pointing to the small bald patch that adorned the side of Pandora's head, "Well good luck with that, Boxy!" Tiffany giggled girlishly, letting the hair that she had mercilessly dragged from Pandora's head drop carelessly to the floor and strutted down the corridor with her lemmings trotting behind her, gossiping amongst themselves.
Pandora stood hopelessly before the mirror in the girls bathroom, which was vacant, much to her relief, due to everyone being at lunch (all the good food went first). She spent a good fifteen minutes trying to get her impossible hair to cover the work of Tiffany Jones and making herself look presentable: She reapplied her mascara which had been streaming down her face only a few minutes ago and outlined her stormy grey eyes with her favourite eyeliner. She then fixed her compulsory uniform which consisted of a white blouse, grey skirt and a deep purple and yellow blazer with a striped tie of the same revolting colours. Once satisfied, Pandora headed to lunch.
She stood outside the cafeteria, composing herself before she took the walk of shame. If she was going to survive the next half hour she would have to strategically make her way through the dozens of tables to find her best friend, Lindsey. Eventually, after collecting her so-called 'lunch' and finding a safe route through the maze of tables as to avoid Tiffany, Pandora sat herself down heavily next to a concerned looking best friend. "Don't even say it! "Pandora said firmly, holding up her hand to halt Lindsey's questions. It annoyed her that Tiffany thought it was amusing to tell the entire cafeteria that she had just physically hurt someone and act like it was something to be proud of. Lindsey smiled sympathetically at Pandora, "Okay I won't mention it, just don't let them get to you. They're not worth it, Dora."
"Thanks, and don't worry, I wouldn't give them the satifaction."The pair smirked at each other and returned to eating their lunch in companionable silence.
After lunch, Pandora had to endure a disastrous last lesson of Biology, in which the students were told they were going to redo the frog dissection they had previously attempted in year eight. By the end of the hour, Pandora realised that nothing had changed when it came to her classmate's immaturity; at least four of Tiffany's followers had 'fainted' dramatically, most of the less squeamish girls were putting on some sort of Broadway show with their frogs by making them dance on their flimsy hind legs in a very green chorus line; the science teacher, Mr Armstrong, had given up halfway through the lesson and had gone to the staff room for a much needed pick-me-up coffee, and Pandora and Lindsey were left to do their own thing, not that they had a problem with that, of course. At three fifteen Pandora hugged Lindsey goodbye and told her she would call for her on Monday as she always did on schooldays; Lindsey couldn't be trusted to get out of bed on time without Pandora's rude wakeup calls which consisted of a variety of complaints and insults. As she watched Lindsay run down the driveway of the school, Pandora felt her mobile phone vibrate in the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out the phone and peered at the screen. It was a text from her brother, Phoenix. It said:
Dora, gone to see a movie. Don't come and meet me, tell Jane and Bill that I'll be back around 7pm. Love you, Phoenix. Xx
Pandora sighed happily. If she didn't have to go and meet Phoenix at the gates of the West Peak Preparatory School for Boys, she could take her short cut through the local cemetery, which Phoenix refused to do. He hated cemeteries; he said it felt disrespectful to disturb the peace for no good reason. Pandora shook her head as she thought of her brother. She often found him tedious and as much as she loved him, she found his extensive knowledge exhausting, despite the fact that she was above average herself. Pandora trudged along the winding streets, dialling her home phone number and waiting for Bill to pick up. There was no answer, so she left a message explaining that Phoenix would be home late and that she would be home a little later than usual as well.
As she walked slowly down the lane leading to the cemetery, enjoying the watery January sunshine, her thoughts once again turned to her brother. Phoenix was Pandora's twin. Jane and Bill always said he was the dominant twin. This, to Pandora, was a polite way of saying that he was the bossy one, even before they were born. Not much had changed. Although Pandora could fight her own battles, she always relied on Phoenix for protection, he was her saviour, the one who always came to her rescue at just the right moment. He had a gift for that - saving the day. Jane was positive that they had some kind of subconscious telepathic connection. Jane and Bill were Pandora and Phoenix's adoptive parents. The twins were abandoned at a couple of weeks old by their birth parents, who apparently couldn't handle a child, let alone two. When the siblings started school, their fellow classmates easily noticed the difference between Bill and Jane and their 'offspring'. Pandora had always had black hair. The blackest of black. On the other hand, Phoenix had been blessed with the most striking white blonde hair, which Jane often described as 'angel's tresses', much to his embarrassment. Both Bill and Jane had fiery red hair that grew in wild untameable curls and seemed to grow outward rather than downward. The twins had been told about their past from an age of capable understanding and were never denied answers that could be given to them. Pandora had always respected that, and appreciated Bill and Jane's honesty.
Pandora pulled herself away from thoughts of her family and realised that she had reached the large iron gates of the cemetery. She continued through the gates at an easy pace, stopping occasionally to read a random headstone along the way. The daylight was starting to drain, leaving an eerily beautiful sunset and the beginning of the night sky. Pandora loved the dark, she loved lying in bed at night staring into nothingness. She smiled as she halted her steps and stared at the huge granite angel that she had adored so much as a child. The angel that had lost an arm and whose nose was starting to wear away. The angel that would always hold so many memories. She sighed and continued on her journey, maintaining her slow and steady pace, the approaching darkness failing to worry her. After becoming lost in a world of her own, she suddenly heard some soft footsteps behind her. Pandora whipped her head around to find the culprit of the footsteps. There was nothing there, so she scolded her imagination and carried on walking. For a few seconds, she didn't hear the steps and this calmed her immensely. Until, of course, they started up again. Only this time, instead of it being one pair, it sounded like there was several people behind her. Pandora didn't scare easily but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end and her legs turn to jelly. She once again, against her better judgement, swivelled her body fully to face the mysterious sound. Nothing. Pandora was starting to panic now: something wasn't right. She felt like she was playing the part of the victim in a horror film. She turned back to her path home and screamed in shock. In front of her stood a group of people, both men and women. They were all dressed identically; black lace up military boots, black baggy jeans and a plain shirt in, well, black. They looked like the Goths that Pandora used to see sitting on the swings in the park every afternoon after school. One of them wielded a knife larger than Pandora could have ever imagined. The largest man, who Pandora assumed was the leader of the group, spoke, "Now girly, no need to be afraid. We only want you dead." He smirked and the others laughed.
Pandora stood speechless in fear. She could not believe this was happening. Why her? What had she ever done? The only crime she had ever committed was when she was five years old and she had stolen a toffee from the pick'n'mix at the local supermarket. Pandora felt a sudden urge to laugh, as she always did in situations that required the complete opposite. She held it in and took a few steps backwards away from the group of people, preparing to run in the opposite direction, but her getaway plans were halted when she felt a sharp object between her shoulder blades. Pandora had had enough. "Who are you, you freaking sadists?!" She cried in frustration. The man behind her snorted in amusement. Whilst trying to avoid the blade that was now being held across her throat, Pandora threw her head back and butted the brute who was holding her captive right in the face, causing him to drop the knife and clutch his bleeding nose. Quick as a flash, Pandora bent down and picked up the blade. She held it out in front of her, like an unspoken warning to anyone willing to try anything. The rest of the Goth-like people stared in amazement in the few seconds that it took for Pandora to disarm her captor. Their gawping quickly turned to utmost amusement. Each and every one of them then drew a weapon from their person. Pandora gasped in realisation. "You really thought that only one of us would be armed? Give up Pandora," sneered the leader. Pandora frowned. "How do you know my name?" she asked, unable to hold her tongue. Another member of the group spoke, a woman this time, "We've been looking for you, sweetheart, and you definitely haven't made it easy. Anyway, enough of all this friendly chitchat, lets get down to business." Before Pandora could even register the groups movements, they lunged at her.
Where was Phoenix when she needed him?
Okay, I might not continue with this, I'm just testing the waters at the moment. This is completely new to me, but I might update. It depends really on how the first chapter is recieved. Please Rate & Review, it would be really nice to get some feedback. Thanks!
P.S - Metaphorical cookie for the first person to guess why Pandora's nickname is Boxy... pretty easy but I just wanted to make sure people understood. :) x
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