Behind the Lies

Chapter 2 - the back of the class

I have always been a trouble maker. Throughout elementary and middle school all the teachers practically hated me. I made exemplary grades, but I had a horrible attitude and shitty behavior problems. Maybe it's because no one was ever around to teach me right from wrong or maybe it's just that I don't like fitting into the stereotype of a good little southern girl. So, this isn't the first time I have ever gotten in trouble.

A big, heavy figure walks in the room. As the figure gets closer I can tell its a man who appears to be someone of importance, about to give me a talk about high school and how you must become a leader or some shit like that.

"Hello, I'm Principal Franklin. Who might you be?" he says eating a donut.

"A kid uninterested in whatever bullshit you want to tell me." Did I metion I could also have a smart mouth when authority questions me?

"What's your name?" Principal Franklin asks in a very annoyed tone.

"Look, I don't want to be doing this anymore than you do. So if you could let me go to class now. That would be great."

"Listen young lady, unless you want me to get your mother up here you will listen and respect me. I will ask you one last time. What's your name?"

"Jessie." I say a little quiter. I didn't want my mother brought into any of ths because she doesn't like to be bothered at work.

"Well Jessie, why are you in here?"

"Because I wanted to meet the charming Franklin." I respond in a very sarcastic tone, gaining my confidence back. "But now I kind of regret coming in here. You aren't as charming as people say you are."

I get up and walk half way to the door before I turn around and give the whole office sinister glare. Then, I walk out. I really have no clue where I am going, so I just wander, thinking about the conversation I just had with the principal. I didn't want the year to start out this way. I wanted New York to be different, but here we are back to the same old, same old. I eventually run into another teacher that tells me to get to class. So I pull out my schedule and find room 201.

I have to walk through four hallways until I get to the one labeled ninth grade. I really don't want to go to my geometry class, so I just sit outside the bathroom and pretend like I'm waiting to go in. While I sit there, I wonder what all the classes here are like. I really do like school it's just that I don't want people to get the idea that I am some weird girl from the country. Even though I'm a little bit more edgy, I'm still sound like a southern belle. I learned quickly that in a big city like New York people don't really care what you sound like, as long as you pay them. But in school, there was no one to pay and everyone judges. So I just continue to sit outside the bathroom door until the bell for second period rings. I realized that I probably should go to second period or the office administrator will call my mother to say that I didn't show up for school today. And I'm quite positive that my mother would not like my explanation of why I didn't go to class.

The world history class is my second period. The teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, looked like a mean middle age woman that lives with seven cats. She is most likely going to give us the, "Hi, welcome to my class let's have a great year" bullshit speech. But, instead she just looks at us, yawns, and then tells us to read a novel in our seats. She must be as thrilled about high school as I am. Mrs. Hamilton didn't even bother to take roll, I know this year will be so easy in her class.

After about five minutes, all the kids in the class start to whisper to each other about what was going on. I didn't really see the point in that because why should you care if the teacher isn't giving the class work. Isn't it just like a free pass for an A?

"Yeah, I hear that Mrs. Hamilton doesn't do anything with ninth graders." I heard one boy say.

"Well I heard that by the second day of last year she was taking naps on her desk." The other kid said.

It has been ten minutes and the whispering of rumors are still continuing. I am starting to get really annoyed with all of these kids. You have all your typical clicks. There is a group of nerds in the back talking about theories of why Mrs. Hamilton does interact with her students, a group of jocks throwing paper airplanes, there is the group of popular girls reapplying their makeup, the band geeks who haven't seen each other since band camp, and then there is me sitting in the middle of the room alone. I know I don't belong in any of those clicks, and I know I never will. If only there was a couple of people who understood me, a little bit edgy and a lot anti-social.

I don't have anything to do for all of second period, so just sit there and daydream until I get hit by a paper airplane. I grab the plane and crumple it shooting it into the waste basket, thinking that it was just an accident. But planes just keep coming... That's it, I'm giving this class a piece of my mind.

"Hey, it would be great if you could get your head out of your ass and not throw paper airplanes at my head. Thanks." I say to one of the kids who was about six foot, one and looked like he could lift a car with one hand. His shaggy brown hair just touched the top of his eye brows and the leather JEC letterman's jacket he was wearing meant that he had been in the ninth grade mor than a few times.

"Why should I listen to you." He says back. "Just sit your ass back down."

I'm not really the fighting type, yes I talk a lot of crap but I have nothing but scrawny little arms and bony fists to back me up. But because I have no self control, I always continue.

"Um, I don't think that is going to happen. You see, something's getting in my way. I'm pretty sure it's your ugly ass self, but I can't be sure." I shout unafraid. We have all of the attention on us now, even no good Mrs.Hamilton is watching us.

I hear multiple of my peers oohhh and ahh over how I am standing up to him. This class is about to witness a major fight between me and this kid. And by major fight I mean I might get lucky and hit him once, while he pummels me to death.

"A little bitch like you wouldn't hit me." He screams back at me.

One of his friends says, "Come on Matt you wouldn't hit a girl, would ya."

"Pease, let me be the first to inform you that I am not little and that I'm going to whipe the floor wih your ass." I say automatically not thinking this through. I'm about be be hit by what looks to be the biggest freshman on planet earth.

He takes the first swing. His fist hits me right in the cheek. I start to take a swing at his eye, but the bell rings and I miss, hitting his nose instead. He walks off as his nose starts to bleed. I quickly flee the room as the adrenaline rushes through my body. I run into the bathroom to take a look at my cheek and sure enough, it is starting to bruise. Great.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. After history, I have biology, English one, creative writing, gym, and then art. And on my way home, I'm exhausted. I am sure that I have never had a worse first day than today. If this is what high school is going to be like then I am never going back.

My cheek is so badly bruised that I am worried of what my mom is going to say. I tried to cover it up with some old foundation found in the girl's bathroom, but that just made it look even worse. If my mother finds out that I got in another fight today, I'll probably get grounded. Which isn't so bad for some people. But for me, a girl that never goes outside anyways, it means that I won't get to play any games or watch any Netflix. So it's a big deal.

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