Carving Pumpkins (Frank Iero)

Her

Her

I opted on skipping last period and making my way home before the lacrosse team got a chance to catch up with me, due to Mikey being in California for the week with some of his other senior buddies for senior skip week.

Whatever. Chemistry was boring anyway. It would be a whole hell of a lot more fun if we got to drink what we made.

I straightened up in my seat and smoothed out my uniform, yawning uninterestedly at the numbers and formulas on the board. I couldn't focus, not while I was anxiously awaiting my escape plan. So, instead, I pulled out my iPod and smushed my headphones in, blasting Pennywise. I got about halfway through the fourth song before I saw Ms. Sylph snapping her fingers in my direction, trying to get my attention. 

I groaned and rolled my eyes, pulling out my headphones and pausing my music remorsefully. "Yes?" I sighed, shoving my iPod in my messenger bag and propping my elbows up on the table, resting my hands on my fists.

"Ms. Way, I think it would be quite beneficiary for the whole class, including yourself, if you were to please join us." The strict woman pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, obviously irked.

"Fine," I grumbled, shaking my hair down over my face. "Whatever. It's not like anybody listens to you run your old wrinkly mouth any-" 

Thankfully, the final bell cut me off. I didn't think that it would be very beneficiary for anyone if they were to hear what I was about to say.

As everyone cleared the room, I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door. Just as I passed through the doorframe, my bag just barely catching on the door handle, I heard Ms. Sylph's anger-riddled voice. "Harlow. Stay."

I sighed in frustration and turned on my heel, untangling the straps of my bag from the door handle and cocking my hip to one side. "Yes?" I said, rushed. I needed to get out of there, get home before the lacrosse team could catch up with me...

Ms. Sylph seemed to sense my urgency, because she walked slowly over to her desk and sat down with a maniacal smirk. "Harlow," she began, tapping her nails on her desk. "Do you consider it sound to disrupt my class, and then disrespect me in front of it?"

I rolled my eyes. I knew that Ms. Sylph only used large and impressive words to make people think that she was smart, as a quick glance into her ugly, poop-colored eyes revealed.

"No." I replied monotonously.

"Then why do you do it?" She had a sharp hint of sadistic madness in her tone.

"I don't know." I gritted my teeth, knowing that she was only messing with me to get a nasty, anger-driven response, which would, in turn, get me in trouble. She wanted to get me in trouble. She was an evil old woman with a tint of hatred to her grand scheme. Upset that her life had passed her by, she had to make others' miserable.

"I don't know." I replied, the same robotic droning in my voice as before.

Ms. Sylph frowned, the corners of her mouth pulling down in an unsatisfied gaze. "Not good enough." She said, briskly standing up and smoothing out her teacher's uniform that all of the teachers had to wear. 

The teachers' uniforms were all painfully alike, exactly the same in every way. They made me think that they were robots sometimes. Black suits, tights, shoes, jackets, corsets. Everything was black but the blood red tie, which fascinated me every day.

Huh. Oh, well. In retrospect, the teachers' uniforms weren't too far off from the students' uniforms; the only difference was that the female students had to wear red and black argyle skirts.