[ON HOLD] The Chronicles Of Your Average High School Loser

WEEK 1.10 OF SEP 6th

Tuesday

        I am not popular. This fact is pretty evident, given that I am conveniently shunned by all other social class existing. Well, besides the teachers.
        Mrs. Bridit is making us write these dumb journals so we can "connect with our inner selves" and "and figure out what lies deep within." My only joy is that she doesn't read them (yet) and therefore I can log my distaste for the inhabitants of this school with leisure.
        The first day of school is always the worst day of school, isn't it? Because along with new designer boots and new lipstick brands comes the new hallway fads, which are the hardest to keep up with.
        Example: seeing how Kristy and Sharon and Dakota and Anastasia and Milandianne and all other members of the Royal Family are all sporting golden pattern tattoos, I'm betting Juliet my weeks allowance that it's the newest thing.
        Sharon sits in front of me in English. She's there right now,  chewing gum and texting on her phone below the table. Maybe if I impress her with my dutiful knowledge, she'll have no choice but to reserve me a special spot in the Royal Family and give me some connections to those flashy tattoos.
        I will do this now. Give me a minute.
        Guess what? She wasn't impressed. At all.
        "Hey, psst, Sharon!"I whispered loudly, poking her with my pencil. "Sharon."
        "What," she snapped angrily.
        "Guess what ABELMOSK is!"
        She did not reply.
        "ABELMOSK," I continued excitedly, "Is a herb found in Asia used for perfumes. The very scent on you may have come from  across the world! Doesn't that give you goosebumps?"
        Her shoulders tensed visibly, and I could her her let out a hissy breath. I could tell she wasn't amused. I have a feeling I won't be flaunting anything anytime soon.

Wednesday

Abreaction: to eliminate a bad experience by reliving it.
        So, to get rid of stupid Nigel and his constant refusal to leave my butt the heck alone, I must relive all of the pure agony he has put me through ever since we were paired together in math in grade one?! I think not!
        Nigel is (conveniently) placed in the desk besides mine in science. He also (conveniently) happens to be whispering loudly.
        "Charlie? Charlie! I wrote a new poem for my summer writing program that my English teacher assigned? Do you want to hear it? I wrote it after you! Charlie? Would you like me to read it to you? Charlie."
        "No," I hissed to him. "It can wait." Forever, preferably.
        "You sure, Charlie? It took me all summer to write, you know."
        "No, Nigel. Please don't."
        "But Charlie, it's a love letter. You're supposed to appreciate a love letter because it was written with such beauty and big descriptive words to describe my affection-"
        "NO!" I screamed, standing up from my seat. "NO LOVE LETTER-"
        Mr. Dregg slammed down his whipping meter (he hasn't used it yet) and my frightened behind immediately found the seat of my chair.
        "And I'm sure Mr. Nigel and Mrs.Charlie would just love to share their apparent affection for each other to the class?"
        I knew it wasn't much of a question, but before I could say that, no, I wouldn't just love to share our apparent affection for each other to the class, Nigel stood up and and said that yes, he would just love to share our apparent affection for each other to the class.
        I am still drowning in my embarrassment, so I cannot write out the words he read to class, even though the words are still ringing in my head.
        When he finished, he bowed and returned to his seat. If I just, you know, casually slammed my head down, you know, just about this hard on the desk, do you think that maybe I'll be able to fall into a momentary coma and simply forget everything that happened today?
        And guess what? I will NEVER EVER EVEN IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT EVER IN MY LIFE TALK TO NIGEL EVER AGAIN AND I MEAN IT TO NOT EVEN IF HE SAYS SORRY.

Thursday

Apparently, Nigelation does not have a cure. Nigel follows me around like a lost puppy. I'd like to banish all thoughts of Nigel, for now. Or you know, forever.
        I'm in lunch right now, sitting all alone in the table next to the Royal Family's. I'm eaves dropping on on Dakota and Kristy's gossip. Maybe I can find out the next fad and impress them with my future vision! I'll be just a moment.
        Whelp. That happened.

        They heard me. Well, they heard my pencil make it's scratchy-scratchy noises, and then using common sense connected the pencil to the hand that belongs to me. Well, even though they heard me, they kindly pretended they didn't. They spoke a little louder, and I figured they where inviting me in on their conversation.
        "OMG, Dakota, I have the new magazine that just came out this fall. Do you know that Natasha Frost's created the very designer boots my dad just bought me last week for $2,110, the ones I showed you yesterday?" Kristy yapped
        Dakota glanced at me. "Oh really, Kristy? I didn't know! Is there any store I could go buy it in?"
        Kristy smirked. "Oh, yeah. I heard they have it in Walmart for sale. Fifty percent off, did you know?"

        Dakota tried to hide a grin. "Oh yeah. Walmart." They pressed their lips together, trying to hold in their cackles.
        Well, that works, I guess. Mom is taking me to Walmart today anyways for those school supplies I missed.
        OH WOW I JUST REALIZED I KNOW THE NEXT FAD I MUST GET STARED RIGHT NOW OR YOU KNOW, WHEN I GET HOME.

Friday

        I've been getting looks all day. Everyone must be admiring my new look. I even pulled up my hair to look cooler.
        It was in my advanced maths class, and was proudly wearing the new "designer boots" with the Walmart tag still on them so that everyone could see I got them for 50% off (I didn't really know how to . . . you know, find the designer boots, so I had to ask Juliet to help me. She just laughed at me. What? It's not my fault that the universe chose to make her the fabulous one). I wore them with my flared jeans (which i also bought at Walmart, in the clearance aisle. Juliet tsks when I bought them. She said I'm a failure) tucked in them, giving me a smart, cool look. Or, you know, as cool as looking like you gained twenty pounds can look.
        Kristy was there in my maths class, and found it necessary to make a comment on outfit.
        "Oh, hey Charlie. I wonder where you got those super cool boots?"
        Of course, then you could imagine how great I felt about this compliment, so I said cheerfully, "I got it from Walmart yesterday when I went shopping for school supplies with my mom! Aren't they cool? I even got them for half off!"
        There was a ripple of loud snickers and hoots of laughter. I din't understand what was so funny.
I looked at Kristy wide'eyed. "But you told me yesterday that you got your new designer boots at Walmart for sale!"
        Kristy's eyes also widened. The area went silent. All I turned on her.
        Her mouth gaped open and closed. Then she grabbed up her morning lunch of soda and seaweed (a peculiar combo) and dumped them on top of my head. Now the entire class was hooting with laughter, whether for me, with me, are about me, I couldn't tell.
 "What's so funny?" Mr. Garret thundered.
"Mr.Garret, sir, I do believe that Charlie here finds it hilarious to come to school dressed as a cowboy mermaid and make an unnecessarily big show about it."
        I was so utterly confused. "But didn't she say -"
Garret The Great turned his wrath on me. "Inappropriate behavior is unacceptable in this classroom. Mr. Newt's office!"
"But-"
"NOW."
        I grabbed my things and hightailed it to the hallways. The principles office is territory I've never stepped foot in in my entire life. It was like heading to the front line of a war zone. It was terrifying.
 On the way there, I passed a tall kid with a black hoodie and a gray beanie over a head of brunette hair.
        The person looked at me, first into my (very brown and boring) eyes with his (very blue and beautiful ones), then at my very (conveniently) unfortunate attire. I wanted to collapse.
        he looked back up at me, the sides of his mouth twitching, the continued his journey to the other side of the rainbow or somewhere like that.
        I choose to now skip the story of my trip to the principles on account of the fact that it consisted basically of yelling and calling parents and sending me to the bathroom to change. It also consisted of grounding from mom and a sigh from dad and me folding in shame. 
        It was unpleasant to say the least.