"Bow down, mortals! Your lord and saviour has arrived!" Was probably not the best way to greet a class full of strangers, but it was the one I decided to go with.
I was met by harsh, strangling silence followed by the sound of my teacher, ms Miller, clearing her throat and gesturing towards my seat, which just so happened to be the one occupied by a sullen looking, clearly emo girl.
I sat down and was instantly met by an accusatory glare. As if I chose the seat, I would rather sit down to someone that doesn't look like she worships Blood on the dancefloor.
Her glare, however softened dramatically when we locked eyes, and she seemed to let out a silent gasp. I assumed she had been floored by my overflowing beauty and quickly pardoned her of her previous actions.
After about thirty seconds of staring I quite honestly got a bit flustered, so I attempted to strike up a conversation with the weird girl. "Soo, what's your name?" The question wasn't really a good icebreaker, but I couldn't think of anything else on the spot. The girl flinched slightly, seemingly snapping back into reality before she regained her accusatory glare. "None of your business, is it?" I felt an innate desire to smack her right in her stupid face, but controlled myself when I heard ms Miller begin speaking about math, or whatever.
By the end of the lesson I had learned nothing, but had scribbled some math based puns in my notebook. When emo girl read them over my shoulder I could physically feel the hatred emanating from her, which just didn't add up since every one of them was prime.
When I got up from my desk I was instantly yelled at by a pink haired girl "Hey! Hey! New girl! What's your name!?" she wasn't far away, so the screaming was unnecessary and also blew my eardrums out. But I still managed to be smooth "Alexandra but I want it to be: yours" It was actually, legitimately, the worst pickupline I've ever uttered, Pink seemed to like it though, as she "awed" loudly enough to wake Aurora. "That's so sweet!! Anyways, my name is May!!" "Lovely, in that case, may I get your number?" Score! May giggled before getting out her phone and reading out her number. I, being an experienced wanna-be pickup artist, read the number back to her, but changed the second to last number in the sequence to a five. May caught on to what I was doing and giggled again before saying "No, that's supposed to be a three, but you knew that, didn't you?" I smiled stupidly at her and waved my hand in an attempt to feign innocence.
After that brief interaction we parted ways, I was headed to french class and she was headed to spanish.
About five minutes into my lesson my phone vibrated, I had received a message from May "Why is spanish so booriiinggg ?? 。゜(`Д')゜。" I ignored it in favour of the lesson, not because I'm an egghead or nothing, picking up girls will just be slightly easier when I've learned the language of love. Ignoring it didn't prove to be a wise decision, however, as my phone seemingly turned into a game controller handled by a four year old. Twenty texts, all containing one weird emoticon or another. Sigh. I sloppily responded and we had a short but sweet conversation which I only understood a third of.
The rest of the day was a blur and before I knew it I was back home, completely exhausted.
YOU ARE READING
Jazzhands and fingerguns
RomanceA narcissistic flirt accidentally makes the girls in her class fall for her, poor her, eh.