The Beautiful Life of Robyn Rose

Not Quite An Angel

My mom used to tell me I was the closest she'd ever get to having an angel. She thought I brought life and laughter into a room, and she swore I had magic dancing in my eyes.

I tried remembering exactly why she thought that as I sat outside my principals office, my head down low as I focused on my black boots. I tugged my skirt down self consciously, very aware of how much it had shrunk in the dryer.

It didn't help that a very typical looking suburban mother eyed me with judgement in her eyes across the waiting area.

A door opened and I jerked my head up.

"Robyn, come in here please," Mr. Melvin ordered authoritatively.

I sighed and ruffled my hair, gave the lady across from me a smile and stood to enter the now opened door of Melvin's office.

He closed the door behind me and sat behind his desk, then motioned for me to sit beside a mini waterfall.

I sat down and immediately dipped my fingers in the water, eyes fixed on the flowing liquid. I felt like a 4 year old.

"Robyn, would you mind telling me why you're here today?" Mr. Melvin's voice held the tiniest bit of annoyance, making me realize how long of a day he's had. I felt slight sympathy for him, but was more focused on the crucifix on his desk corner.

"You're a religious man, Mr. Melvin?" I pointed at the statue and wiped my fingers on my skirt. His tired eyes glanced at the figure and he dug his fingers into his baggy sockets and began to rub with a bit of force.

Okay, no small talk then.

"Well, sir, I am here because a bit of a... problem, developed during my 5th period class," I told him, sitting up straight and rubbing my thumb against my fox tattoo on my wrist.

His eyebrows raised halfway up his whole head. There was no boundary, due to his quite unfortunate baldness.

What a peculiar sight, I though to myself.

"And that problem includes what, exactly?" he questioned and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I suppose I may have physically assaulted someone, Mr. Melvin," I admitted, not an ounce of guilt anywhere to be found.

An angel, mother?

"Okay, and how did you physically assault someone. Please just give me straight answers, Robyn. I don't have time for tiptoeing around the subject," he glanced at a nearby clock to prove his point.

I didn't see how I was tiptoeing around the subject but I let my possibly annoying question slide and decided to give him what he wanted: bluntness.

"I stabbed Drew Remmings in 5th period with my pencil, Mr. Melvin," I told him, only glancing at his face for a brief second before letting them curiously travel throughout his office.

"Okay," he leaned forward and folded his fingers on his desk. "Why did you stab Drew?"

I snapped my eyes to his suddenly uncomfortable ones and held his gaze intently.

"He lifted up my skirt and sexually assaulted me, Mr. Melvin."

***

1 Hour Earlier

I flipped through my sketchbook absentmindedly, trying to find a certain page I was going to use for inspiration later.

"Robyn Rose," the bored substitute called my name for attendance and I raised my hand, still searching for the page.

I crossed my leg in thought and grazed my finger over the page, when suddenly something small and rubbery bounced off of my thigh.

I pulled my skirt down and glanced at the assailant. Drew Remmings grinned at me from across the room, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. I gave him an unimpressed look and continued to flip through the pages.

"Hey!" he whispered. I ignored him and wiggled my foot, grabbing my amethyst crystal around my neck and immediately felt at peace.

A whoosh of cologne made me gag as Drew slid into the unfortunately empty desk right next to mine, the sub still calling attendance. Everyone else was on their phone or talking.

"Why so mean, Robyn?" he poked me in the arm with his pencil.

I flipped a page.

"Is it because I'm not your type?" he laughed as if there was no possible reason as to why I wouldn't be interested in him.

After a moment of silence his voice once again assaulted my ears and peace of mind.

"You wear that skirt for me?" I could hear the grin in his voice.

I didn't respond, not even glancing at him.

"Come on, don't be such a tight ass," he grabbed my wrist but I yanked it out of his grip.

"Fine, I'm probably the only one who'd ever offer to fuck you anyway. On second thought, even my standards have limits," his vibe was bad from the start, but he only got more intimidating.

I began to get a headache. He was literally making me physically sick.

I grabbed my sketchbook and put it in my bag, my pencil still clutched in my hand as I stood to go to the nurse.

"Ohhh shit Robyn! You actually do have something there," he laughed, earning a few stares from other kids.

I only assumed he saw my skirt ride up and tugged it down immediately, staring at the curious group of girls in the corner. They turned around and continued their conversation, and I began making my way to the sub.

Right as I took one step forward, my skirt was pulled up and cold fingers found their way to my inner thigh. The hand belonging to a certain "uninterested" pervert who sat next to me.

I whirled around and, with my hand clenching my pencil, brought my fist down onto Drew's hand that rested on his desk, wiping that smug smile right off his supposedly "attractive" face.

I stepped back and watched right along with the rest of the class as he writhed with a face twisted in pure agony, his ear piercing screams ripping through the once mellow atmosphere. The pencil was an inch deep into his hand, blood pouring out of the wound and pooling onto the ground.

The sub panicked and picked up the phone to call someone as my classmates crowded around Drew, some filming his torture.

I, on the other hand, quietly strolled out of the room and into the hall. I fluffed my curly bob and checked my reflection in a window to see if my eye makeup was smudged. I smiled at my appearance and continued down the hallway and towards the principals office.

•••

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