Youthful Wrath

1 - mantra

She stared at the glowing television, watching the way the characters moved and spoke. She analyzed their behaviors, checking to be sure she had the movements and gestures memorized. She was determined to get it right, to prove her worth. She practiced and practiced until she had it down pat. She felt that she was ready for the world, to finally get out there and build the life she had only seen on the television.

Her plan was simple: enroll herself into the closest high school, become friends with everyone but the mean girls, and get an education that will lead to the most wonderful life she could possibly get. Maybe she'll be a nurse, or a lawyer, or maybe she'll work in the same school she went to, so she'll be able to sneak extra food on her future child's lunch plate.

She already knew what trends were trending, what personality traits were most desirable, and what outfits complimented her the best. She had answers to basic questions, like, "What's your favorite color?" or, "Dogs or cats?"

It had only taken her a couple of years to learn it all. The language was first, of course, which she mostly learned from television. She learned behaviors and personality from the television, too. The most difficult thing to learn, though, was the trends. She found them difficult to keep up with; every time she figured one thing out, the world was moving on to the next. She managed, despite her hatred for "keeping up."

What she wanted most, out of everything in the world, was to go to school. She heard a lot of people complaining about school, explaining how much of a hassle it is to wake up five days a week, dress in decent-looking pajamas, and sit in a chair all day. To her, school sounded much better than sitting on her cheap, uncomfortable sofa and staring into a television screen until her eyes felt like they were burning out of her head. School, she figured, was more of a blessing than a curse. People were just so self-absorbed, drowning in their own lives to really see how lucky they were. They have so much to do, so much to look forward to, and instead they stick their heads into the ground and expect the insects to build them the life they want.

Before she got too deep in her "humans are so ungrateful" rabbit hole, she reached for the television remote and clicked the off button. This is the moment, the life-changing, world-shattering moment, that will shape her future. She got up and walked to the window, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for what must come next: high school. And boy, was she excited! She wanted to squeal and jump and scream to everyone on the planet about how she was starting high school. It was finally her time to shine, her time to prove that she was more than a couple scraps of flesh thrown together.

___

By the time she was enrolled into the nearest high school, she began to feel a little uneasy about the sudden change. What if it wasn't like the movies? What if everyone was different and unlike what anyone was like on the television and internet? She wasn't sure how she would adapt then, but she knew, very, very deep down, that she would.

Walking through the halls made her feel worse. Her stomach had this weird, churning feeling and her hands began to sweat. Passing by other students, she felt their watchful eyes, making sure she walked the right way, making sure she smiled just enough to appear polite. She felt the pressure of her feet hitting the floor, coming back up, and hitting the floor again. It was an uncomfortable process, but she was determined to get through this moment.

A couple of guys huddled around lockers turned their heads, staring right at her. She knew they were the popular guys; she could tell from the way they dressed, the way their hair was an absolute mess and everyone loved it, and how they carried themselves with a confidence they definitely shouldn't have had. If she were completely honest, she felt a pinch of jealousy. She wants to be the pretty one, the person that attracts the eyes of everyone in the school.

The tallest boy in the group whispered to another, and they all began laughing and shoving each other by the shoulders. She was shocked by their weird adoration of violence, but she turned her head away and lifted her chin higher. She was to be confident, stunning, and brilliant. A person that puts her head down is nothing but a coward.

She walks into a classroom, gently puts her supplies around her new space, and sits on the creaky, plastic chair with a wide grin on her face. There were a few other people in the room. She glanced at them-being sure to avoid eye contact, because that would be rude-and watched their hand gestures and facial expressions. Just to be sure, she thought. Just to be sure that the teenage movies were accurate.

Unfortunately, nothing was accurate. Maybe the high-pitch, disgusting girls that always had chewing gum were accurate, but nothing else. They were using hand gestures she had never seen before, speaking words she had never heard. She wasn't even sure any of their conversation was in the three languages she spoke. And she considered three to be a lot!

She watched and subtly copied what the group was doing, moving her mouth to try to match the words they were saying.

She heard another person coming in the room, their shoes clacking loudly against the tile. "Quiet!" They shouted, "Quiet down!"

She straightened her posture as her classmates quieted down. Confident, stunning, brilliant, she reminded herself. The three words became her mantra. She knew that anytime she felt or looked bad, she could repeat her three words, and everything would be better.

"New kid," the teacher pointed directly at her, curling her crooked fingers. "Come up here. Say something about yourself." She threw herself down in her chair and rubbed her fingers against her temples. Being stressed so early definitely couldn't be a good thing.

She stood up out of her uncomfortable, plastic chair and stood in front of the room. Confident, stunning, brilliant. "I like cats," she clenched her hand and lifted her chin. "And my favorite color is green." That was good. That had to be good. What else could they ask for?

"How about a name, new kid? And where you came from?" The teacher snarled at the girl. Her lip was lifting like a dogs, and her nose was wrinkled and bothered.

A name? That's a new word, too. Where is she from? That's a new question. Her eyes widened; she wasn't sure how to answer. Everyone was staring at her, digging holes into her skin with their eyes. A few people smiled or chuckled at her. Stunning, brilliant, confident. That was the wrong order. She didn't remember the right order of her mantra. How was she going to get through the day if she forgot her mantra?

Her mind skimmed through different sequences, but nothing sounds right. Was brilliant first, or was it confident? They were still staring. She could feel the heat of their stares. The sweat slowly falling along her spine was hot and cold all at once. Her skin tingled and she shivered.

"Up north." She hesitated, "I come from...up north." Confident, stunning, brilliant.

She thought for a moment, thinking back to the labels given to people in movies. Names. She reminded herself. "My name is Allison."

"Have a seat, Allison." The teacher spat the words, filling them with venom and hatred. The girl flinched at her words, having a hard time trying to figure out exactly what she did to make this woman dislike her so much.

She sat down again and took a deep breath. She made it. She did it. She survived her first class.

Confident, stunning, brilliant.