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

WEEK 2.10 OF SEP 12th

Monday

        There are posters everywhere advertising Homecoming. It'll be held in three more weeks, after this one, on October 28th. NO one will ask me. I know.
        I'm] considering signing up for the Preparations Committee. We'd be branched to the 'executive branch,' of the Student Government, because we carry out the steps to creating the party.
     First, the 'legislative branch' will first think of a theme. Then they'll take it to the 'judicial branch' to interpret them, the they take it to the 'executive' who takes it to us.
        Oh! And maybe it'll make me more popular and Sharon Dakota and Kristy and Anastasia and Milandianne and the others will finally like me and let me in their clique!

WHETHER TO JOIN THE PREPARATIONS COMMITTEE OR NOT
PROS                                                                         CONS
-join Royal Family!                                              -get ridiculed by Royal Family
-get asked to Homecoming!                           -not get asked either way
-finally be apart of something                       -be shunned for the rest of my life
-be accepted as a human in society!          -become a cat lady
-make friends!                                                      -see above
-excuse to escape Nigel!                                  -just my luck Nigel will be there too
-become cool                                                       -become an even bigger loser
-have fun                                                                -undergo ABJECTION

        I am just realizing how selfish this list is. Each and every object on the list all effects me. The Committee is for The People, right?
        Whoops.

Tuesday

I have visited the activities office. I came to sign in for the Committee, apparently giving into my selfishness without a second thought about it.
        There was a person clad by hoodie. I didn't give any more thought to it because I was fairly late already as it is.
        They sat behind the desk, their head bent over a phone, their thumbs moving rapidly.
        I stumbled up to the sign up sheet placed on the desk, and cringed when the door slammed loudly behind me.
        The person looked up. I was hit by the same intense blue stare. I must have imagined the corner of his lips turning upward, in a sort of amused smirk.
        My heart skipped a beat, as I bent over the sheet of paper, purposely allowing all of my hair to fall in my face in a vain effort to make sure he wouldn't recognize me. But I think it was too late. He recognized me anyway.
        I hightailed it out of the door as fast as my sneakers would take me.
        I haven't used a dictionary word today either.

Wednesday

        Nigel came over today.
Juliet opened the door, and when she saw Nigel in all of his glory, she drawled sweetly, "Charlie couldn't stop obsessing over that love letter you wrote. She simply just adores you. But sadly, she's not here right now. She'll be back soon, though, so come back later."
        I was on the couch doing my maths, and I didn't know it was Nigel at the door, so I yelled out that I was actually present at the moment. Juliet slipped back up to her room, laughing as she passed me.
        I bounded to the door to see who it was, skidding to a stop when I saw him. Him.
"Sorry," I said loudly, before Mom could hear him and interfered. 
"We don't buy door-to-door products."
        I quickly went to shut the door but he barreled past me and made himself at home.
        And plus Mom heard. And plus she also interfered.
        "Oh my - oh, Nigel! It has been too long. Come on in!" she called, completely ignoring the fact he practically trespassed against us, and had entered under his own will.
        She brought out the scrabble board. Oh my God please nooooooo.
        "Now you have fun!" she said.
        Fun. Ha, ha.

Thursday

        Nigel sat with me at lunch. 
He just slid in, and opened his Albert Einstein lunch box and pulled out a sandwich and took a bite.
        I stared at him blankly.
        He continued to eat. Not saying a word.
        I don't know why, but I let him stay. We ate the whole of lunch in silence.

Friday

I hate gym. 
        I entered the girls locker room and up to my locker (# 708) and turned the dial, left, 29, right, 4, left, 13.
        I pulled out the usual gym cloths, which consisted of a blinding yellow tee-shirt, and green shorts lined with white.
        I tried getting a bathroom to change in. All occupied.
        I reluctantly tried to find a shower stall to change in. All occupied, only to rush out at the sight of (conveniently) naked seniors showering and changing immodestly.
        I had two more minutes until I would be marked tardy. Shudder. But I will not be reduced to to changing in the sheer openness of the changing room. 
        The girl's room was emptying rapidly. Mrs. Zefta was stalking the aisles and making sure no was standing idle.
        I rushed into the the bathroom that only chose now to be empty and shed my cloths and threw on the uniform.

        Mrs. Z stomped up to the bathroom because she may or may not have heard me inside there. I pulled up my feet on the toilet seat but she saw my socks and shoes on the floor, so she pounded on the door for me to come out. I was shaking by then, and shook my head furiously and stayed exactly where I was. so she went to fetch a janitor to force open the stall. I took my chance while she left to make a dive for it, and before I proceed, I would like to note that I did put all of my effort into my escape plan. Even if it didn't turn out right. Or that it completely failed. The effort is the point. That's what counts.
        My foot was lodged into the toilet but I didn't know, so when I tried scrambling of the seat, I tripped and crashed into the stall door, severely biting my tongue int the painful process, and also losing a tooth (not even joking, I literally saw it roll to the floor), getting drenched in toilet water when I tried standing up again, because my foot yanked the toilet out of place and sent the water pouring down on me. And of course, we know what happens when you try crawling g on a floor that is wet. Yep. My hands collapsed under me and making me bang my head, again, on the stall door all over again. 
        This was a lengthy and complicated process. I have made a math equation for it too. It goes like this: G = U + S x Ng + T x C. G = gym, U = uniform, S = showers and stalls, Ng = naked girls, T = torture and C = me.
        I dragged myself (literally, I used my hands and my still working right foot to paddle my body across the seas of the locker room floor) to the doors of the girls locker room, planning to escape to hide in a telephone booth or some other pathetic loser area for the rest of the period.
        But nooooooo, of course not. The Kracken has locked me inside. Smart woman. Or sea monster. Whichever you prefer. (The latter.)
        Well, I have homework I haven't done yet (cause I never started . . .), so allow me to conclude this chronicle by listing the the series of unfortunate events in order of occurrence (In, um . . . what form of style is this again? They taught us in History and English last month, but I completely forgot . . . but I like writing this way so no one can tell me not to. Not even if Mrs. Z reads this. Or maybe not.) :

1) The Kracken hath returneth

2) The Kracken hath yelleth.

3) The nurse hath noth been calleth yet

4) I hath basically almost dieth

5) Mr. Newt hath also yelleth

6) My ears hurteth

7) Dad was calledeth

8) My sins were recordeth

9) I am now groundedeth for lifeth or until Mom comes hoemeth

10) I have diedeth

        And I think I wrote it wrong.