Rabbits and Roses

Chapter One

People. were splayed out onto their desks, asleep or otherwise. I myself was nearly going crazy. Then again, who isn't? My ears seemed to become extra sensitive as I picked up every tick by that damned clock.

As I sat in the back corner picking at a cuticle, I couldn't help but notice many other of my classmates on their phones or listening to music, so I figured I could get away with it as well. After stealthily fishing my ear buds out of my overstuffed binder and setting everything up, I turned on the music and began to sing the words in my head.

I ripped a paper from my notebook and somehow found an actual mechanical pencil that worked, and get this, actually had lead. So for the next five minutes I scribbled on my new paper, hoping to pass the time just a little faster. Surprisingly it worked, and just as I was getting into my drawing the bell rang quite loudly. My hand jerked at the sudden keening noise in my ears and sent a thick, dark line right through the middle of my drawing.

In agitation I crumpled it up. The students filed out one by one and as I passed the door, threw the ruined paper into the trash bin.

A small strand of my dark brown hair fell into my eye and I angrily ripped the ribbon from my thin hair. Putting the strap of my binder more comfortably on my shoulder, I quickly retied my hair at the base of my head and tried in vain to keep the rebel strands behind my ear.

Someone from behind, unbeknownst to me, had unzipped my binder and slapped the strap from my shoulder, making every single paper slide out and fall onto the floor. I looked back in agony to try and find the culprit, but the line of bodies just flowed around me. Like a rock in a stream. As I was near the floor a few took the time to slap the back of my head or kick me. When I tried to call them out they were already gone.

Soon the students were thinning out and I could finally pick up my papers without the worry of my fingers being stepped on. Many of them had footprints all over them, some were ripped. I angrily began to stuff them back into my binder haphazardly. Someone stopped in front of me and leaned down. He began picking up my papers for me. I looked up at him and realized I had not seen him before.

I stood and brushed hair from my violet hued doe eyes. "Thanks," I muttered. He handed me papers.

"Francis Bonnefoy." A thick French accent accommodated his deep mesmerizing voice. His hand was outstretched towards me. I shifted my binder and took it. He smiled lightly and I nearly fainted. His blue eyes were the bluest blue I had ever seen. I could drown in them like an ocean.

"Jurene."

"I know, mon amour." He winked at me. "Better get to class, you don't want to be late."

I began to explain that I was already late, so it didn't really matter, but he was already headed in the other direction.

What little people were still moseying around in the halls stared at me and tried not to laugh. A few people failed their attempts and snickered at what a loser I was. Fighting back tears, I slowly walked to my English class, knowing already that the woman who hated me so would give me a detention. Or two.

The closer I got the the thick metal door, the more I slowed. It wouldn't hurt my grade too bad if I just missed one class, would it? I really did not want to go in there. The teacher, whose name I could never remember, absolutely hated me. I never caused her trouble and had an A+ in that class.

Maybe it was her hormones? Surly the baby that made her stomach swell very largely had something to do with it. Or maybe it was her terrible spray tan and ugly died hair? Either way, she did not like me at all.

Tentatively, as I reached the door, I knocked. I hoped to God that by some miracle she was not there. Of course, who's to open the door but the ugly woman herself? She frowned disapprovingly at me.

"Detention on Monday," she snarled and slammed the door behind me. Just as I was walking to my seat in the very back she grabbed the collar of my shirt from behind and pulled me back to the front. "This is what you should never do. Don't be her. Don't pull a Jurene."

She pushed me forward and I stumbled. Many people snickered, a few just looked at me in disgust. Was it really so bad being a Canadian in America? It's not like the Canadians ever pulled any terrorist attacks on them, so why it this happening?

Many people stuck their foot into the middle of the aisle to trip me. They did it every class, so I easily just stepped over them. One kid got smart and waited until I stepped down to sweep his foot on my ankle. I fell to the floor in a daze. Nearly everyone burst into hysterical laughter and the surrounding students dropped their text books on me.

"Alright, alright!" Mrs. English teacher yelled. "You guys don't want me to get fired do you?!" A few chuckled and nodded their heads.

"Yeah, yeah. You'd miss me when I was gone!" She snapped.

I sat up and ran a hand under my nose. As suspected I was bleeding. I walked over to get a tissue to seep up the oozing red liquid. Just as I got one, the teacher yelled at me again.

"If you're going to get up and disrupt class then you can go to the office!" She pointed to the door.

Beginning to explain what I was doing but not wanting to get in any more trouble than I was, I took a few more tissues and walked out the door, binder still on my shoulder.

I grumbled to myself as I walked down the hallway. The principal wasn't too bad, but she still didn't have me as one of her favorites.

The doors slid open and I walked into the office lounge. The red, white and blue school colors covered the lounge. Blue carpet with the school mascot in the middle of it. Red chairs. White walls. Then again, I couldn't help but notice that nearly every American school had red, white and blue as their school colors. I stalked to the desk and rang the bell.

Mrs. Clark, my favorite "teacher" -even though she was an aide, she still substituted sometimes when a teacher was gone- in the school walked from the teachers' lounge and gasped when she saw the very red tissue on my nose.

"I-I tripped." I looked at the floor.

"Yeah, tripped my ass. It was the kids again, wasn't it?" She asked with an annoyed look. "Why won't you just tell me?"

Someone yelled from the suspension room, "Because she's a Canadian!"

I sighed and sat down. "I'll get you an ice pack." Mrs. Clark walked back into the teachers' lounge.

The glass doors reflected myself, but after I looked out, I was very surprised to see Francis speaking with Mrs. English-teacher-who-hates-me. He looked very upset, as did she. They both seemed to be talking very sternly with each other.

Suddenly Mrs.Ugly-English-teacher got up in his face, but Francis held his ground. She pointed at him, then at the office. It looked like she said Jurene.

Before I could think of it further, Mrs. Clark tapped my shoulder. I jumped in my seat.

"Here's your ice pack," she grinned.

I took it gratefully. "Thanks," I whispered. The ice pack burned my nose and I hissed. Mrs. Clark looked at me worriedly.

"Why don't you stay in here the rest of this hour. You can go to your last class like you normally do."

I nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, so much."

She smiled. "Stop thanking people so much. It may be normal in Canada, but in America, everyone is an uber asshole and does nothing like that."

I grinned and nodded. "Sorry."

Mrs. Clark just laughed and walked away.

If you like this chapter, don't forget to click the "vote" button in the top right corner of your screen. It means a lot that you took the time to read my story, and I thank you.

Please, have a nice day.

-Hecanada