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

WEEK 3.10 Of SEP 19th

Monday

        Nigel came over again.
Mom and Dad were out visiting Gram and Gramps, and Juliet was out on a date with this guy she said her friend recommended her to. That left me taking care of Annabelle, and hosting Nigel.
        Annabelle continues to scream that she wanted to go to the park. Nigel was okay with another game of scrabble. I just wanted to die.
        We ended up taking Scrabble with us to the park. I had plenty of choice words I wanted to use on Nigel, plenty of choice words. I didn't  use any of them though. And I lost.
        Annabelle wanted to swing. She kept right on screaming it and jumping up and down, her stupid blond pig-tails up and down, making moms look at us with concern and herding their children away like we were mutated cauliflower.
        "IWANNARIDETHESWINGSIWANNARIDETHESWINGSIWANNARIDETHESWINGS!!!" she shrieked, almost to tears. "CHARWIECHARWIECHARWIE."
        I tried convincing her that oh wow -  look how shiny those slides look! Don't they look perfectly fun? But she wasn't hearing any of it.
        "Swingswingswingswingswingswingswingswingswing!" she hollered.
        Nigel set down the board and offered to swing her for me. This entire day I refused to actually talk to him, but maybe not anymore. He wasn't being half bad.

        When I sat down in a bench a meter away, I saw a lone child wandering around. He was blowing the little seeds off of a dandelion. One of the few out left in late summer. I watched fascinated, as the seeds danced with the wind and teased the skies and disappeared among the clouds. 
        I was snapped back to reality when Annabelle screamed that she didn't want swings anymore, no, she wanted to slide now.
        I looked back to find the little boy with the dancing flower. I did see a few lingering seeds slowly securing themselves among the warm clouds. But I couldn't find the boy. He was gone.

Tuesday

        Mrs. Bridit declared our room a "No Put Down Zone." A put down is making someone feel bad about your actions or looks or words.
        I raised my hand and called, "Our entire school is a front-line active put-down war zone then. Do you not know? Do you not hear the  cursing in the hallways and the fights under the bleachers and the cheaters who bully the nerds - " Sharon snorted - "into doing their work for them. And plus I've heard you do multiple - "
        Mrs. Bridit stood up abruptly. "Ex-ca-use-me, Mrs. Charlotte Raymonds."
I batted my eyelashes innocently at her. (At the time I honestly had no idea that she thought I was being a smartbutt. I swear I didn't. I honestly thought we were on a first-name basis.) "Yes, Mrs. Jenesi Bridit?"
        Leon and Slider (yes, that is his name. Don't know why. Maybe his dad was on candy when he named him) burst out laughing. Mrs. Bridit swiveled on them and told them to to stop laughing like hyenas. Sharon pointed out that that was a put-down to hyenas. Mrs. Bridit said that Sharon was putting Leon and Slider down.
        I wanted to ask if a joke between friends counted as a put-down. I wanted to ask  if a teacher's comment about a kid's laugh counted as a put-down.
        I didn't.

Wednesday

        Conversation is different with a no Put-Down Zone in the room.
        Sharon showed off her outfit her Dad bought for (a convenient total of) $1,112. Including designer heels, leather purse, and the newest shade of nail polish. Then she she asked, "Don't you just love them?"
        All of the girls immediately said yes, but you could see them turning into little green Frankensteins with jealousy. The rest of us (including me) couldn't say yes. We ABHOR fashion, and couldn't really be bothered to give a flying baby duck for it. And plus we'd be lying, which the teachers encourage us not to do (plus the fact it's also against the Ten Commandments). But we couldn't say no, because we'd be accused of being a bunch of jealous Put-Downer swines. So we went for the only possible and reasonable option and just said nothing. Sharon took this as a negative response, and did the only possibly reasonable (but more likely possibly not) thing on her part and screamed at us like we killed her poodle.
        I have one word for the entire English class. It rhymes with witches.

Thursday

Kristy and Dakota gloated loudly at lunch about their date to Homecoming.
        "OMG, Sam asked me to Homecoming yesterday! The others will be like, sooo jealous. I got a senior date!"
        "Isn't he like, that kid that's like, super weird and quiet?" Dakota questioned.
"Oh no," Kristy leaned forward, as if telling a secret so big she couldn't scream it pout to the whole lunch room period.
        "He isn't weird. He may be quiet, but," here she giggled, her shoulders bouncing (along with an over emphasized area) and tossed her long sun-tanned blond pin straight hair that I am totally not jealous of, "I find it actually pretty attractive."
        They burst out giggling, falling all over each other and making these weird motions with their hands like they had no idea what to do with them.
        It was Dakota's turn now. 
        "Did you know that Derek asked me??" she laughed, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder.
        Kristy's mouth dropped. "Derek? The Derek? He asked you out? No way."
"Way!" Dakota laughed in response. I wish my laugh was as bubbly and perfect as theirs. When I luagh Miss. Fis calls the doctors cause they think I'm giving birth.
        "And guess what else? It was all flowers and full moon and all!"
Kristy mocked surprise. "Derek? Using flowers?"
        They laughed again, almost falling off of their chairs.
I almost wish they had.

Friday

        Mom and Dad always get quiet when I walk in on their conversations in the kitchen. They think I don't know what they're talking about. I know that they are talking about me.
        At first, when I was small, I didn't know I had a disorder. Something that made me different.

        But that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I found out sooner or later.
        At school, as I walk the halls, the crowd parts for me like the red sea. But it isn't because I'm like royalty or anything. I know they know why.
"Did you know . . .?

        "That girl has . . .""Not one of us . . ."
"Move, move, she's weird . . ." "Contagious?"
        They think my mental illness makes me vacant of feeling. It doesn't. It makes me mood swing (bipolar), it makes me slow (naive), and it makes me hurt inside (depression?).
        But when will people see that I'm just as normal as they are? I have an annoying family and (no) friends and (no) boy problems and (no) dramatic life. I have a heart, and along with it comes feelings.
        I know I have Autism/Aspergers Syndrome. Stop shoving it in my face.