School Shooter

St. Marys School For Rejects

Today April 18, I stare at my locker. Waiting for the bell to ring, turning my head in disbelief is my best friend Sherry walks towards me with the biggest smile on her face as she says "Hey Jess"
I roll my eyes, and I lay them on her, showing I'm tired of the same cheery smile every day. She continues with good news, she tells me that in fact her father will be having a fundraiser Saturday and I am cordially invited to stand at a table with her and act like I have nothing better to do. Like I said I'm tired of her cherry smile, tired of everything recently really. I hate this locker I hate this floor, I hate Sherry. Even if she's a good friend of mine, everybody's always trauma comparing, everybody always thinks they have it worse than somebody else. Well as the time passes, until myself I'll be done with the school year. Done with school for good after this year, Who needs 12th grade at all. I'm so sick of these walls, so sick of this floor, and so sick of Sherry.

As I continue, walk home from school, walk from the front door to my bedroom, shut the door behind me, Throw my backpack down next to my bed and plop myself on the bed like a lunch lady putting chili on your plate. I tell myself just a little nap...and soon I doze off.
Half an hour later.....
JESSE!!! GET UP ! DINNER!!
Ugh dinner, the one meal I'm forced to sit with family and be interrogated about how my day was.   Mom asks why she got an email about me being late for French class, little does she know I wasn't even! Mrs.Fitch just has it out for me. Either way now , moms already pissed.
Des my little sister wouldn't get off her phone the whole dinner. Dad once again, absent, and Charlie continued to beg and whine at my feet.
After dinner I wash up, I let Charlie out, and I go up to get ready for bed. Mom calls me to her door, she's gotten more emails. This time, warning me that there will be a fire drill tomorrow and I should be prepared.

The next day my morning routine, get dressed brush teeth, comb my hair, throw my backpack on and run. I met sherry at the front steps of the school like we normally do. St. Mary's School for Rejects. I've been going here 2 years and still I haven't found a better nickname.
St. Mary's School for the Rich.
St. Mary's School for the STUCK UP. Nothing rings the same as "rejects" does. So what my mother failed to tell me, was that there would also be a school shooting drill today. Why do we need to hide and run outside like ants running out of the anthill? Why don't we just all stand in front of the gun and put our hands up? Who even would be a school shooter? John with his hoodie and hair in his face? Freaking Jenna with her "I love the devil" "I'm a witch" attitude? Ugh let's just get this over with! I HATE THIS SCHOOL!