Shadow Seeker

School Sucks

     Another school, another year, another name, identity, life. One should get use to change; especially in a life that revolves around it like mine does.

     The halls stretch out in every direction, an endless labyrinth designed just to torture all new students. The walls are painted ugly, plain colors with splashes of school colors-blue and yellow of all things-on the oddly placed lockers dotting the already looking structure.

The posters that dot the premises seem to be too happy for the drab building, with the sullen students, and always frowning teachers glaring out of their doors. The only happy person I can see in this new setting I find myself walking into is the school counselor, just arriving at her office door.

She smiles and greets most students by name, smiling politely to the ones she surely didn't remember. But even her, I notice as she turns to unlock her door, rolls her eyes, with a sagging smile.

It seems ironic to have all the depressing posters of self-harm, self awareness, and mental illness help posters placed around that office she had just ventured into. That counselor probably saw the worst of the school, secrets locked behind a wooden door-easily broken.

Then the jocks come barreling down the echoing hall, screaming out compliments and disses along the way, drawing the attention of all to themselves. The one that was the loudest, in their mind, was the most popular. So the noise crescendos, adding in the barbies walking down after them.

The colors of clothing hurt my eyes. I think it should be illegal to have so much pink in any given area as they were showing. Of course, their clothing also highlighted and complimented their body and figure.

I growl in disgust as I trudge past a couple making out-the boy slamming the girl up against the lockers. I worry they might damage school property. I would never want to be that school locker-I was thinking of giving it a proper funeral and putting it out of its misery as I walked past and into the school office right down the main hall.

The secretary looks blandly up at me. She forces a paper at me to sign, hands me a packet along with it, then motions me into an inner part of the room. I walk past and find myself in the principles office. It has another door in it, leading back into the main hall.

I wonder idly at the thought of secret passages the teachers might use, hidden throughout the school. A way to keep their eyes on us, although, now of days, they could simply use the handy dandy technology called cameras. I roll my eyes at my wandering brain waves.

I had shut down on myself, all the new noise of the building was already starting to cause me a mighty fine headache, soon to be migraine.

The principle walks in, and I do not even know why I am surprised it is a woman. I think back to older days when woman were nothing more than a... I shake my head, pulling out of past thoughts and memories. Those were not allowed.

"Welcome to our school," she smiles blandly at me, as she rambles through the speech she is required to make to the new students. "I'm so glad to have a brilliant mind like yours join our facility...."

I tune her out until her spiel obviously comes to an end. I am given my schedule, and herded out of the room, back into the main office.

"Stacy!" The principle calls out to the old, slouching secretary I had first seen upon my arrival. "Would you get someone to show... Er..." She pauses as she struggles to remember my name.

"Lyra," I help her, muttering it out.

"Yes. Lyra," she pauses again, forehead wrinkling. "What an odd name." She seems shocked she said that out loud, but quickly regains composure. "Can you get a student to help...Lyra... Find her way around the campus?"

The secretary grumbles like she was just asked to give up a Friday night of bingo. She pages a girl in-and yes, with my luck, it's a Barbie.

She explains to the Barbie, who's name is Jessica, that she is to show me around and "be nice".

Jessica giggles for no reason, loops her arm through mine and drags me helplessly out of the room.

She skips her way to my first hour, which she informs me is different from her own. Making out that she is a charitable angel and that I can come to her if any more questions arise. I plan to steer clear of her whole "click".

"You know," Jessica begins. "You would really get along with my friends! Just a little makeup here, a little up-do with your hair there!" Her eyes widen in delight at her hidden agenda of her personal doll.

"Why don't you have any makeup on?" She wanders at me.

"I believe in the natural look," I inform her bluntly.

"Ah!" She looks downcast. "You do have that natural beauty," she says grudgingly. "But think what a little makeup would do for you!" She practically squeals in delight. I imagine her as a pig-high pitched squeals, apple in her mouth. I stifle a laugh at the thought.

"Well, if you need any friends you know where to look." She gives me a wink before throwing her hair over her shoulder and sauntering off, knowing she looked like "all that".

I slouch into the classroom, ignoring the teacher. I plop into a chair, letting out an annoyed huff as I sit there.