Throw Back Thursday

One

Don't you hate it when certain bitches give you crap (like, absolute crap) and then lie about it to your face? Well that's what happens to me every day. In school they think that I'm the stereotypical girl who has all of the drool-worthy hotties (otherwise known as mindless idiots) wrapped around her finger. And that's including my teachers.

It's really a shit reputation to have. Seriously, have you ever seen one of those ding-bats walking around with some actual sense in their head? Bloody hell, no.

I wish that some people would just get off their high horse and look themselves in the mirror. Sorry to say, but not everyone's perfect. Just deal with it.

I was rustling around with some papers when I felt an arm brush against me. My God, for some reason, that arm felt familiar. Like as if I'd known or seen this guy's arms before. Like we were friends, or in the same class, maybe. Or maybe we went to the gym together! Wait, what am I saying? Here I am rambling about some guy's arms and I don't even know any guys. Well, not like guys - if you know what I mean - but I'd never had a boyfriend or anything. Thinking on that, I don't think I've been friends with a guy since, like, second grade or something like that.

Sharply, I clicked my fingers and walked straight through the hall craning my neck to avoid any childish sniggers. I had just realised that I had managed to get a chocolate stain on my skirt. How the hell did I do that?! I drastically dropped my eyeline so I could see the edge of my nose and made sure there were no young ones around.

I rummaged around my bag until I found a small packet of tissues squished in the upper left hand corner of it. Discreetly, hoping no-one would see me, I pulled the tissue out of the packet and shook it so little strips of tissue came raining down on me. Bloody brilliant. I spat and scrunched it up into a teeny, tiny ball and started attacking the quickly melting chocolate. Just when I discovered that there was no stain at all... Oh. I turned my head to discover that the chocolate was actually on my arse. Big woop. I looked around once again and made sure that no one was watching.

CHOCOLATE ATTACK. Spit...and scrunch... and then you've removed the stain! Whoo-pee! Spit, scrunch...

"Lizzie, what the hell are you doing?" standing before my eyes, very sadly, was the principal. Why did he just address me so informally? In a ten-year-old attempt to avoid any kind of explanation, I mentally apologised to my heels and bolted. That didn't work however, as my jacket refused to stick to my back. "Make sense of yourself, Carter, before I phone that useless mother of yours!" I stopped and fumbled with the now chocolate covered piece of tissue. Ew!

"Um, Sir, your Principleness... I was cleaning my skirt, see, and um, I don't have any access to any laundry here - obviously - so I just tried to, uh, make myself look semi-stained immaculate." I smiled as I tried to get the sympathy vote. God, that was lousy.

"Up to my office, now! Also, have a bit of respect for yourself, we don't want you showing." Um, excuse me? Sadly, before I could raise my voice and object, I realised that the inner netting of my skirt was tucked into my waist band so my pants were showing. Very clever, Elizabeth.

I love how I'm called mostly by Lizzie, but in my head, I always call myself by my full name. Small world, isn't it?

Two hours since the chocolate incident and Mr 'Keeping-Me-Back-For-Attention' was lamely trying to ring my mother. Every time he phoned it went to the answer machine and he muttered "Shit!" under his breath like I was some little kid who'd never heard swearing before.

Knock, knock, and knock again.

"Yes?"

"This is Leon Sellars sir. He's been an angel all week and his teachers have sent him up for extra praise, basically." I couldn't help sniggering at the guy. He looked about 5"6, his hair was dishevelled and his distressed jeans had one too many rips. Wedged inbetween the door frame and the vice principal he looked like a bunny who was hiding under a leaf for hibernation.

One thing that I couldn't keep my eye off though, was how distressed he actually looked. The teacher's expression said "This boy's brilliant! Give him a gold star..." whereas plastered all over his face was "This is such a hellhole. Thank God I'm ditching class." I couldn't not smile. Come on, that's the best thing I've seen all day. He is the only person I've seen all day.

Nervously, taking up a chair, he discreetly offered me a stick of peppermint gum.

"Sorry, I'm allergic." his almost sarcastic expression changed into one of indignation.

"Are you genuine?" he half-whispered-half-asked.

"Yes, of course I'm genuine. Would I have allergies otherwise?" I snapped indignantly at his remark.

I saw his eyeline shift to the side and I followed his gaze. The principals were watching our mini half-baked argument. Don't they have something better to do, like, give praise to this random guy and let me go to my lessons? Seriously, I want to learn something today.

Wait, did that just come out in my thoughts? Woah, 'Mr-Keeping-Me-Back-For-Attention' has made me actually want to do something normal today.

I mean, at breakfast I thought two hundred million impossible things and a grand total of zero will ever ever come true. A good reputation (for once), a happy life, happy parents (they're divorced, hurrah.) and someone who will actually listen to me and love me for me. That's not too much to ask, is it? Or maybe, being the age I am and in the classes of idiots I'm in, then yes, it definitely is. Sigh. Sometimes, I really wish that a perfect world could exist.