Disposable Teens (Maniggy)

Chapter 6

Hey, if anyone's actually reading this, sorry the updates have been kinda slow. I'm pretty busy lately.

(The lyrics in this don't belong to me, obviously.)

Jeordie's POV

Brian and I were slouched at our desks in English class, doing our best to pretend we were paying attention to the stupid morality tale of the day. Afterwards we'd have to fill out worksheets basically meant to prove we'd read it. They really do treat us like little kids. I'd taken to just guessing the answers.

I suddenly jolted in my seat when the fire alarm began shrieking at an agonizing pitch and volume. Even the fire alarm was extra harsh at Holywood. We all got up, mercifully ignoring the standard procedure to quietly line up and wait for permission to start walking, since it could be an actual fire and not just a drill.

It was a blur of bodies spilling into the hallway, shoving towards the main exit. When I squeezed myself outside, I felt someone grab my arm and pull me through the crowd. I panicked at first, but exhaled with relief when I saw who it was.

"Come on," said Brian, "We can slip away unnoticed." He was so forceful I almost tripped as he dragged me towards the overgrown shrubs bordering a back path. I didn't even care.

We finally stopped to catch our breath behind a dumpy storage building that looked like it didn't see much use. The foliage grew all over the back of it, big enough to crawl into and hide in. Brian gestured for me to follow him and I swept the branches aside and found there was a tiny clearing just big enough for the both of us to comfortably settle in. It looked like we weren't the first, judging by the footprints and cigarette butts on the ground.

Brian slid to the ground, leaning his back against the wall.

"Why are we here?" I asked as I sat down huddled next to him. Not that I minded having actual privacy and peace for once. But I wondered about Brian's motivation.

"I needed to talk to you," said Brian. "About things I can't let anyone else know." I noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he went through the stack of schoolwork he'd carried with him. I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my stomach, unsure what he meant. Was his reason for being here darker than he let on? Had he harmed people? His nervousness made me nervous too.

"Remember when I told you I write sometimes?" He pulled out a small notebook.

"Yeah," I remembered he said it might get him in trouble. I guess that's why he had it shuffled under a big stack of unfinished homework. If he carried it with him, nobody could find it while searching our room.

"You asked if you could see it. I guess I'm okay with that. I mean, I don't think you'll go narcing on me for having a rebellious spirit or whatever. Here, take a look at this and tell me what you think." He turned to a few pages in and handed me the notebook.

I looked down at the...poem? lyrics? he'd written.

Burn the witches, burn the witches, don't take time to sew your stitches

Burn the witches, burn the witches

Good is the thing that you favor, Evil is your sour flavor

You cannot sedate all the things you hate

Burn the bridges, burn the bridges, don't take time to sew your stitches

Burn the bridges, burn the bridges

Good is the thing that you favor, Evil is your sour flavor

I don't need your hate, I decide my fate

You cannot sedate all the things you hate