Life For What it is

Chapter Two- Tira

ITS BEEN FOREVER SINCE IVE UPDATED ANYTHING AND ITS LIKE 6 AM BUT I GOT IN THE WRITING MOOD AND FINISHED THE CHAPTER SO ENJOY IM SO SORRY UPDATES ARE TAKING SO LONG, BUT YOU CAN THANK Ilikebandslol16 FOR THIS UPDATE!
Also I'm going to work on a better cover and a cast for this story since I can't sleep.

Going to public school is a really easy way to make a person hate themselves. If there was documented proof written in a book, you could flip to the first page and find me. I would also be proof that celebrities children should not attend public school. My father is on of the richest people on this planet, and could very well pay for me and my three siblings to go to public school, but here I am. Feeling more worthless and uncomfortable by the second. I can sense everyone staring me down, sneaking glances toward me, wondering what they can do today to get into the media. They'll say polite greetings and try to strike up a conversation with me, and maybe they'll get famous too. Worse yet, they will whisper to each other as I walk past, bursting into laughter at the other's statement. I pretend not to hear anything, but I have heard more than just their laughs. I have let the words I was not meant to hear play over in my head as I try to sleep at night, the only time I can truly be at ease. Thinking about it doesn't stop the words from being there, if anything it makes them more true when I think about them. Most nights I can't help but to let myself cry for hours to the point of no sleep, wondering why I felt so much agony over what these people have said. But every day I have to wake up and conceal my night of crying and come here again, but nothing about this place has ever changed.
I shouldn't be thinking about this during fourth period Algebra 2, but once I start thinking about it I can't stop. I'll just randomly get one horrible thought about life, causing me assign blame and think about what is going to happen to me when I walk out of the classroom. So I zoned out of Mrs. Byker's explanation of something I don't understand how to do just to think about it. I need to pay attention, I'm failing with a 63%. I want to pay attention, I really do, but I can't. "But I can't," Three words that seem to define my life. I hate that too. Add that to list of things I hate. Why is it so hard to be in control?

Focus! I yell in my mind gripping my arm tight to try and wake myself up. It's no use. I want to scream but instead turn around to check the clock. Only three minutes left.

"Easy peezy lemon squeezy?" Mrs. Bykers asks, turning off her ancient, squeaky overhead. Mrs. Bykers was pretty ancient herself. She's been teaching math to the youth of London Borough Public School for the average-minded for over 45 years. Her hair is a short bunch of wild gray, and she uses circular thick framed glasses to help her see. I don't think they help, since she always squints at us and is bumping into clearly visible objects. This classroom was probably just as old as her, years of homework and teaching plans littered all over her desk, filing cabinets, and even some students desks. She was hard at hearing too, yelling a strangled "what?" when a student talked any lower than a shout. Despite all that, she was one of the nicest teachers I've ever had. The other kids didn't seem to think that, since she was a target for jokes in the hallways and students would burst out laughing when she knocked over her iced tea or coffee. Instead they should help. Then again I don't do much to help her either. But then again again I don't want to be made fun of more than I already am. Still, I deserve no exception. I'm just as bad as the rest of them, maybe even worse.

"Mrs. Bykers, I found those problems really hard. I like it when they're long and hard and nasty though." A kid sitting three seats in front of me says. A feeling of sympathy fills me as I look toward our teacher. The kid is obviously making an underlying joke, trying to get a rise out of her to make his friends laugh.

"Oh me too. I really like the nasty problems. It's a challenge." Mrs. Bykers says, pausing at his desk. An eruption of laughter echoes from the seats nearby. I wish they wouldn't do that to her, she's too nice. I look back at the clock again. One minute.

"No homework over the weekend, I want you all to enjoy yourselves." She says, offering a smile. I see a couple kids make eye contact and raise an eyebrow toward each other, nodding. I guess it's their signal for 'let's all hang out tonight'. Not that I would know, since I usually don't do anything on weekends. I hear the familiar beep from the over-com and rush to collect my things and get to the door. I open it fast and suddenly, that a girl walking down the hallway isn't quick enough to see me. She comes slamming into me, causing me to fall into the door. I drop to the ground, too shocked to deflect it. Instead of helping me up, the girl looks behind her, eyes wide and a wide smile of laughing on her face. She turns around to her friends to say something as they keep walking. Soon I can hear more laughing from down the hall. I'm barely out of the hallway, can't people wait until I'm at my locker to laugh? I push myself up and Rush down the hall toward my locker. I blend with the crowd and for a while no one says anything to me. When I'm at my locker I rush the combination and it swings open. I throw my books in and look around for my sketch pad. My elective for this year is art, the first class I wanted. It's my favorite class and the only place I can express myself without it being weird to others. I turn to my right and see that Lucy has appeared beside me. She is the only person in this school that I can trust as my friend. She's been my friend since kindergarten, and I know back then she couldn't have wanted to be my friend for fame. I am also her only friend other than two acquaintances and her twin brother Mark. I wait to see if she'll talk first.
"Major warning to Tira Anne Horan! There's a test in Mr. Whokester's class today, and someone got you the answers." Lucy sings the last part and slips a paper out of her binder and hands it to me. "I was thinking you can copy the hard questions on your arm during art so that you can just slide up your sleeve and write it down before anyone notices."
"I appreciate your effort, but I can't cheat." I say, starting to feel a bit queasy at rolling up my sleeves. I'd like to keep my arms as covered as they can be.
"I know for a fact you're failing at least three classes and Science is one of them, so let me help you." Lucy pleads.
"I didn't say I wasn't using the answers, I'm just not going to write them on my arm. My mom doesn't like it when we write on ourselves. Remember when Ella had that weird drawing of a skeleton on her back?" I bring up Ella to make sure nothing seems suspicious.
"I think that's kind of a different situation, Cass probably wouldn't mind that you have a couple words on your arms." Lucy says.
"Yeah but if she notices I was cheating? I'll just cram study." I tell her.
"Perfect choice my sister, now I'm sorry to leave you but I have 45 minutes of English to sit through, see you next period." She says.
"See you." I say staring gloomily at the test answers. There won't be much self expression for me today.