Another Day in Paradise

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dakoda

            Wincing, I dabbed the concealer on my face, trying my best to cover up the purple bruise. It disappeared slightly, blending into my skin more than it had before. I parted my hair differently so it covered the bruised side of my face. I didn't want anyone to see me, what if Marc was actually in art class today?

Wait, what did it matter? I sounded like a wilting flower. Since when did I care what people thought about me anymore? I had given up on that a long time ago. With a sigh, I slipped on a tank top and my over-large black hoodie to cover up the bruises on my arms. I pulled on my holey jeans and my DC's, trying my best not to wince. I hated the after-effect of getting beaten by my father. Slinging my backpack over my sore shoulder, I made my way downstairs. Grabbing some eggs out of the fridge, I cooked them up scrambled and heated up some sausages. Then I put two plates in the microwave to keep the food warm. I left a note on the bathroom door saying breakfast was in the microwave for when dad was hungry. Then I walked outside. It was only about six-thirty, so I decided to skateboard up and down the driveway for a few minutes till I had to leave for school. I picked it up from the side of the house, stepping on and propelling myself down the driveway. I pivoted before reaching the street, going back to the other end of my driveway. I wanted to do some tricks, I honestly did, but I was too sore to do anything more then go back and forth. I checked the clock.

6:55.

            Now it was time to go. Sighing, I returned my skateboard back to the hidden spot next to the garage before trudging slowly to school. I had no big obligations on going besides trying to get a scholarship. Who cared if I was late anyways? The teachers, that's about it. The worst thing they could do is give me a detention. Like detentions and blue slips scared the kids anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if most of them lived to make trouble at school. Tugging my hood over my head, I slouched down, hunching up my shoulders and slipping into school. The halls were already emptying when I got there and I slowly made my way up to my locker. A group of preppy girls were huddled together nearby, giggling stupidly and repeatedly flipping their hair at the two guys they were talking to. Jeff Diggers and Ray Fields were probably the 'hottest' guys in school, according to almost every girl at Elmwood High. Just ask most of them and they will tell you they had a crush on one of them at least one time. Even I had in seventh grade, but then I realized how stupid I was being and I got over it. I grabbed the books I would need for the first part of my day and slammed my locker, causing a few of the perfectly primped preps to jump. A few of them shot me glares that I ignored before I headed to my first class. Math.

Perfect way to start out my day.

            In other words, I wished math would go die in a hole somewhere where no one would ever find it again. I understood that multiplication, addition, subtraction, and percentages were important. I knew that it was important to find perimeter and area if you were going to be a carpenter. I didn't think it was important to know how to figure out c and x if 5x+12x-3c= 24c-3x. That was just nonsense to give math teachers more things to teach all year round. I bet only two kids per year were going to become mathematicians. If that.

            Advanced English was more of my favorite class, but some things about it were stupid too. Yes, it's important to know correct grammar, correct format, and how to read and write. No, reading William Shakespeare was not important. Yes, he was a great English playwright. No, most kids in school did not want to read Romeo and Juliet. That was just a cruel and unusual punishment for the kids who hated to read. Crueler to those who loved to read, yet found Shakespeare to be boring. When it came to writing, honestly, who needed to know the difference between a Protagonist, Antagonist, 1st person, 2nd person, and 3rd person point of view, unless you were a writer? I happened to want to be a writer, actually more of a poet was my taste, but to all the other kids in my class it was an infinite waste of time.