Enter; The Beginners Guide To Faking Your Death

Soda City Funk

Rusty strutted around with her arm crutches digging into her skin. It was mostly the tape used to repair the handle. The tape sat exactly where her arms sat, which gave it an unbearable feel if she wasn't already getting used to it.

A small iPod stayed tightly in her hand as she hobbled down the street. The music was loud enough in her headphones it was enough to be heard by any passerby.

“Do you wanna, do you wanna get funky with me?” It repeated as she carried herself along to school.

“Oi! Rusty-Roo!” Someone called out from behind. She couldn't even react fast enough to stop them from yanking the small device from her hand.

“Give it back!” she shouted as another kid shoved and knocked her down.

“Five thousand yen for this!” The boy hissed as he held the music player in his hand.

She sucked her teeth, “That's not even worth half of that.” She stood up and placed her sticks to the side.

“But it's already got music in it.” He groaned and started switching through the music. Mostly pop mixed with some alt-rock. Not a special playlist but there was some he liked, even if it was girl’s music.

Rusty stood up tall against him and set her head forward so she could balance easier with bent knees. The other boy stretched his arms out, “So it's a fight?”

“Hell yeah.” She said as her veins began a crimson red glow. Her arm wound back as she reached for his face with a fist.

“Morning,” Their teacher walked in with tired eyes as always. It had been a month, and students were enjoying the extra ‘chairs’, which were simple pillows, he had given.

Rusty was in the back of the class with a scrunched nose. She furiously worked on schoolwork that she had missed out on from being in the nurses. The pencil snapped from her pressing too hard, and she quickly snapped the pencil in half from frustration.

“Not a good day?” He asked as she glared angrily up at him.

“No.” She grumbled and huffed.

Out of the back of the podium, he pulled out a new pencil and tossed it through the class. She caught it with a quiet gratitude.

“What happened this time?” He asked as he shoved his belongings under the wooden stand. He rested his elbows and stared as she approached the front of the class.

“I got robbed,” She whispered with a snort, “and my iPod broke.” she held out a pink broken shambles of wires and metal.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a blue iPod. He handed it over and placed it in her hand. “It's a combined playlist, so I don't really know what's on it.”

“You're just giving me a new one?” She looked up suspiciously.

“Yeah. I don't have the heart to tell my friend his taste in music doesn't do it for me.” He shrugged, “Just give it back by the end of the day.”

“You're just giving me a new iPod?”

He shrugged

“Even though I'm accident-prone?”

He shrugged again, “I don't need it.”

“I don't need it either” She tried handing it back but he just stared at her hand.

“Clearly, you do.” He yawned.

“Hey! Rusty!” someone called out and glared back. The group of girls that held all the gossip in the morning turned to her with a smile. “Did you hear about what happened this morning?”