Secret Wonderland

1. A Small Slice of my Misery Pizza

"...And so that is why a frog starts out as a tadpole," Ms. Eckerby manages to finish as the bell rings.

I'm a zombie as I put all of my science shit into my bookbag, and, ever so slowly, begin to walk out of the biology classroom, although cold words block my exit.

"Eve, can you come and speak to me for a moment?" Ms. Eckerby asks in a bit of a scolding tone, tapping her foot on the cheap linoleum floor of the classroom.

I groan as I lug my stuff all the way up to the classroom.

"What do you want?" I sneer. Oh, how I despise that wally, blabbing on and on about the structure of mitochondria or whatever while there's toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"I'm missing a lot of your tests. I still don't have most of the exams from last year!" she yells.

"Your point?"

"You need to bring them back to me- ALL of them- SIGNED!" she screams.

"Fine!" I shout, storming out of the room, only to later murmur, "fucking bitch."

I brush my black fringe out of my face for a second before letting the hair fall back into place. Huffing, I head to my locker to dump all of my shit in.

"Like, zomg Melissa!" Stefani squeals, "You, like, totally look good in those shoes."

I really hate that Melissa Star, the most popular girl in the school, has a locker next to mine. Her blonde hair, brown eyes, tan skin, excessive jewelry, and red nail polish are all so mainstream it sickens me. But having to stand next to her basically all year has me dead.

The girls blab on more about shoes, and I get STUCK in a crowd of MOTHER FUCKING PREPS.

"Melissa!"

"Melissa!"

"Melissa!"

I'm so pissed off that I grab my locker door and-

"SLAM!"

The loud noise quiets the whole hallway. All of the girls' eyes burn me like lasers.

"Finally, some QUIET," I whisper to myself.

Kids are still glaring. I've seen only about two of them blink.

And then they start laughing. At me.

"Stupid emo bitch!"

"Can't BELIEVE she would even TRY to quiet MELISSA."

"Why would she even WANT to do that anyway?"

"HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha!!!"

Ridiculed, I run out of the hallway, and to the courtyard. A black tear falls down my cheek, and I climb up the willow tree in front of the school, trying to rip up my ugly school uniform consisting of a green polo shirt and red plaid skirt on the branches. I sit down in the nook of the tree in my tattered uniform, and think. More tears fall and stain my face with watery lines of cheap mascara.

"I HATE this," I mutter.

"I HATE THIS!" I scream, grasping onto the sides of the tree.

This time, loud sobs emerge from my soul. The tears subside, and I can begin to see clearly again, an the first thing that I can see is the school's marble sign that reads "Harim Girl's Prep School, a place for girls to learn in a welcoming environment."

I scoweled.

"Welcoming environment, my ass."

- - -

"Serve!" Coach McNott yells as she waits for Melissa to serve the volleyball over the net.

Melissa tosses the ball in the air, and pulls her other arm back like a bowstring. She later straightens her arm out and slams her palm on the ball. The horrid thing flies over the net, and it's flying towards ME.

Wait, flying towards ME?!

"WHAM!"

"Ugh!"

Coach McNott blows her whistle, and another girl rolls the ball under the net back to Melissa.

"Huh- huh?" I'm on the floor, and I feel a pain in my eye. I try to get up, and once again, the jeers emerge.

"MOTHER FUCKER!"

"What a stupid noob, she just fell on her ASS. How CLUMSY!"

"That's why EMOS like HER DON'T BELONG AT HARIM PREP."

Tears well up in my eye, causing my eye to develop a stinging sensation. I wipe some of the tears away, and see blood on my hand.

"Great, my EYE is BLEEDING," I whisper a little too loudly.

"Yeah, it's not supposed to be bleeding," a girl says. She seems nice, so I try to smile a little bit. Her next words will change my impression completely, "The blood is supposed to be coming from her WRIST."

My heart sank. That was one of the biggest misconception about emos I have ever heard.

I walk out of the gym screaming, "I FUCKING HATE VOLLEYBALL!"

"Then why are you doing it?" I hear from the gym.

"We're all FORCED TO," I murmur, slinking away into the distance.