treaty

2. Tour de la Omnia?

super long, but super un-edited and raw

whoops?? 

“I’m on the highway to hell,” I sing to myself as I push through the people in the hallway. For some reason, everyone picks today to freeze entirely in the hallway and just start talking. 

          I’m not even joking, everyone has stopped moving, found there two inch by two inch lot, and settled in with all their things. Usually, I’d be okay with this. It’s not like I stayed at school for lunch anyways. My motto had turned into “Out of sight; Out of mind” during my time here at Omnia, and whenever lunch rolls in, I’m out of the perfectly chiseled school doors.  

          You see, none of my friends attend Omnia. Sure, there are the odd few people that I know and maybe exchange a few sentences with, but other than that, I am a lone wolf. I come to school, run to class, run out of school for lunch, come back to school, leave. During my lunch excursions, I go to Rockwell Secondary, where their lunch periods were relatively the same as my own, and eat with them. I usually end up just talking the whole time, making up for the hours I’d gone without talking at Hell. Then, while running back to Omnia, I make up for the time I wasn’t eating during lunch. 

          It’s a beautiful cycle. 

          But today, I don’t have the pleasure of doing so, because Rockwell Secondary is taking out it’s new seniors to lunch. 

          This blows. 

          So here I am, milling through the perfectly ironed blazers, getting completely ignored, and getting nowhere. I clear my throat a few times, the hunger building up my courage, but nothing happens. I’m about to get down onto the floor and start crawling, but a hand reaches out from the sea of blue, and reels me into a safe harbour.  

          “Got her,” a female voice whispers. I turn my head and see that an auburn haired girl is holding onto me. I’m mentioning her hair first because it has got to be the most perfect thing I have ever seen. Her curls seem almost unreal, flowing down to her mid-back. Needless to say, I’m jealous. She also has a blue bow-headband thing going on in her hair, adding to her glow. 

          She smiles up at me, her dark brown eyes sparkling. 

          I note that she is shorter than me. 

          Hah, not so perfect now. 

          Still perfect. 

          “Thanks Abby,” a familiar voice whispers back. My heart jumps as I meet eyes with Elliot. He looks the same, but his tie is a different shade of red. Same dark curls, same green eyes. He reaches over and pulls me in between Abby and him. “Meet Abigail Ruth, another Omnia.” 

          I glance back at Ms. Perfect, and see her eyes trained on an iPhone, her fingers trailing along the screen, reading letters and symbols all jumbled up together. I quirk up my eyebrows to Elliot. 

          “Heard of Plash?” he asks. I wonder why he’s mentioning it out of the blue like this, but nod. Of course I’ve heard of Plash, it’s the most popular social network out there right now. It connects all of my favourite things — music, movies, books, and hot actors — and puts them all on one screen to share with others. I nod slowly, confused. 

          “Well, little Ms. Ruth over here created it,” he smiles, almost like he’s proud. I have trouble paying attention to what he’s saying, becoming dazed over the smile he’s blinding me with. My jealousy over how awesome this chick is is budding somewhere in the back of my head, and my need to become her best friend is somewhere over there too, but it’s all being distracted by the sight in front of me. “… yeah so we get to go to cool places with her.”