Alice.
Curious. Clever. Creative. Courageous.
All the things that could get her killed. I wish she could just realize that. She needs to know. The Queen has terrible intentions, and I've gotten myself all wrapped up in her sinister trouble. By my moves, it's either me or Alice. Either way, the Queen's gotta yell, "Off with ye head!" To someone sooner or later or she's gonna freak. Or maybe she already has? She was born that way..
Oh sorry, I got off topic. You see, my long, scraggily ears may be able to hear whats coming, but I couldn't have predicted this. And now if I don't do what the Queen says she will have me executed, and my head will just be another addition to her collection.
Oh, Alice. Please be careful. And don't be late. You're always late.
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Desks at school are made out of solid plastic, or sometimes fiberboard, not wood. At least, I think they are at most schools, but that's just what I would assume. Everyone always mistakes them for wood. If they were made of wood, it would be easier for me to dig my bare nails into the sides of the desk right now as I tap my the graphite point of my pencil repetively on my History exam. The top of my Keds slides back and forth on the tiled floor, itching to get up from my seat.
It's an interesting floor; the tiles are merely seperated by what looks nothing more than thin, dark lines. They are a grayish-white, with little splotches of color; cyans and purples and hits of yellows, but mostly gray. I wonder if gray and white are such common colors in school arcutecture and design because there is some meaning behind the two, like they are both calming colors. Obviously they aren't working.
Focus. I look back at my paper, sitting up straight. I'm on my last question. I forgot to study-dumb, dumb, dumb, I know-but I payed attention in class the past week, so I was good with my answers up until now. This one wasn't mentioned in class, but it was in our book and in the guidline that I didn't study. For a moment I try to think up excuses in my mind, but now is not the time. I need to get this one done. I stare for a few more seconds, scrolling over the question many-too many-times, but not processing it.
Oh well, just wing it. I scribble down quickly the best I can remember from learning in class, and then hop to the front of the room, placing the completed packet on Mr. Manchester's desk. He doesn't look up as I add to the pile of finished exams, he just continues to scrawl writing in red pen on other people's tests. I ignore the absence of his attention and slide back into my seat.
Well now I have to wait for everyone else-great. I pull out my sketchbook from inside the desk, and open it to the most recent page. I start to add in a Kelpie horse to the drawing I've already started. Already worked on-I should say, because almost the whole page is covered in blues and greens and playful colors off to the sides.
A Kelpie is a creature known best for it's warnings. When a fellow friend it has entrusted comes near danger, especially a situation that involves water, it will make a sound that only Kelpie's can make. It sounds like a muffled horn, underwater, maybe. If a stranger that is not their friend crosses the Kelpie's path, or brings the horse-like being any harm, it will use it's gift of water entanglement to capture the stranger and either drown them or lock them away. It's also known as a water horse. But more about Kelpies later.
"Hey," a voice whispers from my left. I turn my head, keeping my light blue pencil in place. Louis.
I just barely shake my head and raise my palm with the pencil held in it in a 'what' type of way.
"You shouldn't be doing that. You should be finishing your test," he bosses.
"I already did," I say firmly. I turn back to my drawing, not even bothering. He shouldn't even be talking to me right now. We could get in trouble. I go back to lightly coloring the Kelpie's shy blue body. A foot kicks mine.
"Alice," he says, angry. I do not want to listen, or argue. He should keep to himself, to his test. "Alice."
A grunt sounds from Mr. Manchester. I hadn't even noticed my English teacher, Ms. Burner, had entered the room. She beckons for him, holding the door cracked open. Mr. Manchester gets up from his chair, straightening his tie, and walks towards her as he says, "Excuse me class, I'll just be a moment. Continue with your tests."
No more than three seconds after Mr. Manchester shuts the door behind himself, Louis rises from his seat. Typical. He laughs at a joke that his friend has just muttered. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn towards me, a pack of his friends moving as one behind him. A few people in the room ignore them, still filling in answers on their tests. "So, whats Alice up to, huh?" He moves closer to my desk. I stare down at my drawing, trying to block him out. "Is she drawing that place again? That one she always talks about? What did she call it - 'Wonderland'?"
The way he says Wonderland, it's like he takes it from me, inhales it, rolls it around bitterly in his mouth, chewing it up, and then spits it back at me. His friends burst into laughter.
He looks down at me like I've just done something despicably wrong. The sketchbook I've been paying attention to for the past five minutes slips out from underneath me. I look up suddenly. "Louis-"
"You know, Alice," he looks at the drawing with disgust. I leap to my feet. "It's rude to ignore someone."
"Give it back," I extend my arm out, attempting to snatch the book from his hands, but he just raises it higher, out of my reach. Out of my periphy, I see heads turn towards us.
He turns on his heel and starts towards the front of the room, looking through my book. He faces me. "How pathetic," he spits.
"Louis! Give it back!" I attempt to make a go at him, but am held back by two sets of strong arms on either side of me. Louis's possy holds me back. I struggle to get free, but their grips are too strong. I grit my teeth.
Louis smiles, then holds up the book for everyone to see. "This," he turns a few pages to reveal my past drawings. "This is Alice's sketchbook, where she draws all about this fictional world that she claims is real, the one that she made up for attention."
I expect for one of my other classmates to help me, or scold Louis, but instead they just join in with his hideous laughter. I forgot about how all these low lifes hate me for no reason-how wonderful. "It is real. I didn't make it up. It's real. Wonderland is real-"
"If it really was existent," he interrupts. "Then I guess it wouldn't bother you if I did this." He places his thumb and his index finger on either side of the paper. I know what he's going to do. Slowly, he pulls, slitting the very edge of drawing.
"Louis, no! Stop!" It's no use. His grin is sinister as he rips the rest of the page in half. A sudden surge of anger and adrenaline pumps through me, and I manage to wrestle free from his friends' grips. I run towards Louis, who drops the sketchbook and the half of paper torn off onto the floor.
"Oops," he laughs.
"You are a cold, heartless, mean, brute, Louis! You earn your friends and power by destroying other's values and reputations, which makes me feel bad for you, because it just shows how pathetic you actually are. You're a coward." I shove him and he throws his fist at me, which I catch with my right hand and with my left I thrust up a fist of my own. I hold it there, threatening to hit him back. "And you're willing to hit a girl. What an ass."
At that moment the door clicks. "Alice!" Mr. Manchester's voice booms from across the group, and as he walks over to the two of us his footsteps are loud on the hard floors. "I guess I can't even trust my students enough to be alone for no longer than two minutes with good behavior, can I? I shouldn't have expected so much of you, it seems. Alice. To the Principal's."
I see a small smirk spread across Louis's face. Mr. Manchester narrows his eyes at my fist pointed towards Louis. "But, Mr. Manchester, he-"
"Alice! Go to the principal's office. Now. And you have detention."
* * *
I hate Louis.
I just can't believe the nerve of that guy.
