Lovestrings

Lovestrings // Spell 1.

I bit my lip nervously, staring surreptitiously at my Drama teacher. She scanned over the list, and said the inevitable, "Miss Lovelace? Have you done your report?" I knew I shouldn't have opened my shop for two hours longer.

If I remembered that I had a due report, I actually would've closed earlier. "No, Miss." I replied, looking up at her under my lashes. "On my desk, tomorrow, please. Alright, class! Who's excited about the School Production?!" There were unenthusiastic cheers from across the room. "Aw, c'mon, who's excited?!"

This time, there were more hearty cheers, and the teacher laughed. "Well, then, class. Gabrielle, care to inform us about the play?"

Gabrielle Roberts. Your typical BEE-YOTCH - Pardon my colorful language. Gabrielle - or Gay-Brielle, as I like to call her - is your typical blonde bimbo, who ogles at jocks and lends a 'helping hand to starving kids in Africa'. She's challenged me ever since I was a kid, claiming that, "One day, I'll be a princess, wearing diamond rings, and you will bow down to me with your face in commoner dirt." Mind you, this was when we were in Grade 2. Her 'ambition' came true, anyway, and she rubs it in my face whenever she has the chance to.

She tries to be the 'good guy' in the end. I was horrified when I saw her flawless, smiling face on a giant billboard in Sydney, holding a baby, apparently supporting World Vision, when in my eyes, all the infant wanted to do was scram from her arms. All of this is because of her status. Her 'dearest daddy' is the CEO of Herring and Ind. so that automatically labels her as a 'rich girl'. Not that she isn't rich - She just likes to show it off a bit.

We rarely talk, though, because... I mean, she hates me. Does she really have any reason to talk to me?

Gabrielle licked her lips, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "May I stand at the front?" The teacher nodded, and so she made her way to the front of the classroom. I groaned, and plonked my head onto my desk. She'd probably digress onto another completely unrelated topic, and there was no way I was going to listen to her blabber on. She has serious skills.

To this day, I still wonder how she got on from Fibonacci, to how many carbs chocolate has.

"This year, as you all know, is the School Production. We've been planning this for eighteen months. This is the first time Momo (Gabrielle said Momo, which was her abbreviation of Mon Mon. Maybe she was lazy, or thought that Mon Mon didn't sound good. Beats me.) has done this, so we expect the play to be spectacular.

"Our school will be holding multiple stalls. Students can submit their own stall idea, and it will be sent to be approved by the Stuco (Yes, another abbreviation. StuCo - Student Council).

"The Production will be open for three days. I have yet to select the play, so I've worked out an idea. I've decided to let you guys choose. There will be a selection of Beauty and the Beast, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, an adaptation of Hansel and Gretel, Rumpelstiltskin, or an adaptation of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

You could hear everyone murmuring, chatting with their friends, but I didn't feel like voting. Nor did I want to even participate. I just kind of zoned out halfway through the explanation. They seemed like they were having fun, at least. I may be completely alone at school. I don't mind. At least, not really. I'm fine with it. Who needs friends? Am I right?

It's true, people avoid me at class, and teachers ignore me. Not completely, but you catch my drift. Teachers ignore students, anyway. I remember that day when I had no time to eat breakfast, and snuck in some seaweed to eat during class. This is what I love about high school. No one cares. Literally.

But I know everything that happens in this neighborhood. Call me... A filter, as you would say. Secrets from one person get told to me, and I edit out the ghastly bits and post it on Lunatic's blog. Then, the gossip is sure to have spread within that time span, and the article should've gotten at least fifteen likes on Facebook, and ten notes on Tumblr.