Red ✔

Do What's Right

“There has to be some mistake,” I protest to the French teacher after class.

“Yeah, she cannot be in this play,” Victoria says. For once, we come to terms on something. “She will ruin it for me.”

I glare at her but disregard her criticism. “S'il vous plaît, can I be in Hansel and Gretel instead?”

“Désolé, les filles, mais ma décision est définitive. (Sorry girls, but my decision is final)” She gets up from her seat and walks to the class sink.

She washes her wrinkly, dry hands under the tap.  I ball my fists in frustration.  That is why I hate Madame Graham. So mean, so disrespectful, and so unfair. It will be a miracle if for one day she was nice.

Victoria and I stroll to our way to our lockers.  I push the door to staircase, not holding it out for Victoria.  She is not worth the effort after what she said.  

“I cannot believe her. My play is going to be a disaster,” Victoria says. “I was supposed to be the star.”

Wait, is she saying she is not going to be a star if I am in the play? She is afraid I am competition?  Impossible.

“What do you mean by you are supposed be the star?” I question her suspiciously.

“No, what I meant is...” she stammers. “You are going to distract me and my spotlight with your retarded red hair.” She twirls a long, thin finger at me, gesturing to my red hair.

I hate it when people insult my hair, but coming from her, I am not surprised. I sneer hotly. “At least, I am not an idiot unlike a dumb blonde like you.”

I am ahead of her as we walk to our lockers.  Her locker is several spots away form mine. Good, I do not need her crap near me.  It will be a lot better for everyone when she transfers to another school.  I smile at the thought. 

“If you did not know, but I am the top math student in the grade,” she snarls from her locker, delicately opening her lock.

“Really?  Because I am pretty sure you plus math equals STUPID.  Or would you like me to write out the formula for you.  Would that make it better?”

She gapes at me with the stupid look in her face, speechless like the dumb blonde she is. "Whatever, retart," she hisses.

She bangs her locker and struts away with her fluffy, white coat in her arms. That showed her! I whip my gaze back to my locker proudly, content with the reaction she gave.  I unhook my jacket from my locker.  Some dust and feathers are stuck on the surface.  Not caring, I slide the jacket on and zip it up.  Warmth goes through me. I lock my locker and run out for recess.

“Boo!” a voice shrieks.

I scream. I swivel to see who it is.

“Congrats on Cinderella,” Marilyn congratulates.

“You too. On Little Red Riding Hood,” I return.

She is in the same group as Billy. It is her chance to show her wicked acting skills. No one is as good as her in our school. It is her ultimate dream to become an actress one day. She already stars in a play called “Pearl.”

The Pearl is about a shy girl who hates her life. A mysterious man will give one pearl to every person who has a miserable life.  Thus, he, no doubt, has given her one. Once she has received it, she wishes her life to be as shiny as a pearl, but that is when her life takes a big turn. Everything is perfect. She is famous, rich, and popular. Everything anyone can ever dream of. The girls are jelaous of her and the boys are all over her.  But then, not everything stays shiny; someday it will start to rot and collect dust on your bedroom dresser.