Death Sticks

1. Being social is over rated

   Beya sat impatiently tapping her fingers on her desk. The light wood was sleek and smooth, causing a loud and distracting TAP, TAP, TAP, to sound through the small classroom. Unable to focus, her attention was centered on the old analog clock that hung above the doorway. Every few seconds she'd look up. TAP, TAP, TAP. Ms. Peters' wrinkled face scrunched up and her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to concentrate on teaching her lesson. "So can anyone tell me what your homework was?" asked Ms. Peters, scowling at the class to test their strength. The students clenched their mussels, crossing all their fingers not to be called on. Even though most knew the answer, it was the mere thought of being watched by the entire class which made them feel uneasy. "Ah yes," started Ms. Peters, directing her focus on Beya. "Miss Lino." A silent sigh of relief spread through out the classroom as they relaxed at the fact of not being chosen.

"No," responded Beya plainly and all at once.

"I'm sorry?" Ms. Peters questioned as her scowl grew wider and her fists clenched by her side.

"No," Beya said again with a stern face, "I cannot answer your question." Ms Peters swallowed in her throat and grinded her teeth, expressing her anger without a word.

"Could you maybe tell me why that is."

"Why what is?" Beya replied, not realising she was still on the spot. Ms Peters' vein nearly popped, then she formed a sly and devious smile.

"Why you don't know what the homework was dear," Ms. Peter mocked in a sweet voice, making her twice as intimidating.

"Well for one thing," Beya began," I didn't do it. Not just because I didn't know what it was but because I couldn't care less if I failed this boring class." Muffled laughs bellowed throughout the class. Beya bit her lower lip and looked both ways, trying not to draw attention to herself. She recognized her part in being rude but out of stubbornness didn't stand down. Ms. Peters on the other hand was wearing a face that was tighter than an elastic band. She cocked her head towards the rest of the class.

"Please turn to page one-hundred and sixty-seven in your history books," she said sharply, "And I will be checking your homework," Ms. Peter added, pointing an evil glare toward Beya.

Beya didn't bother taking her book out, she just continued staring at the clock. One fifty three, it read. Just seven more minutes till I'm released from this hell, Beya thought. Ms. Peters played catching kids off guard like a sport and had challenged Beya. However, the truth was Beya was never particularly on guard. So when she was caught (which was often) she chose to state the facts and not embarrass herself. Well not on purpose. TAP, TAP, TAP, Beya began again. "Miss Lino, do we have a problem?" questioned Ms. Peters. Beya ignored her. Her eyes followed the red hand on the clock as it circled around and around.

Across the room, Nova Forest had her attention centered on Beya. Fascinating, Nova thought. Although most only saw Beya as an attention craving trouble maker. Nova however admired her. Beya stroked her tan hand through her shaggy, grown out pixie cut hair. Nova curled her finger around a streak of her long sandy colored hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Tick, tick, tick. Beya stared at the clock. Finally, the bell rang through the air, the sound bouncing off the royal blue lockers. As students bent over and reached for their bags, Ms. Peters stopped them. "Excuse me. I will say when you leave." It seemed as Beya didn't even hear her because as soon as the bell went off she jumped out of her seat and headed to her locker. Ms. Peters rolled her eyes. "Complete page one seventy for homework." She looked both ways. No surprise, the class was dead still. "You can go."

A stampede of determined ninth graders marched down the hallway, eager to reach their next destination. Beya walked slowly and casually. One black strap from her bookbag was slung over her shoulder. Beya's eyes wandered through the hall. She didn't see the world for what it was but for who she was in it. As if she were wearing noise cancelling headphones, the sounds around seemed non-existent. Although you would never be able to tell, she was focused, mentally. Her mind was set on one thing. This would cause the people around her to seem to melt. Beya had her own way of life. She left her shoes untied, her flannels unbuttoned, and her hair uncombed. The only ones who tripped were the people around her. For Beya was not just another face in the crowd, she was different. Not because of looks or talents but because she refused to be another face in the crowd. She slowly regained awareness. She now heard everything people were saying, not just a blurr.