The Snitch

(vi)

Ever since I started school, a group activity was fun. You get to spend some time talking with your girls, you get some work done and since, you had the group with the best skill-sets, you also get the best grades. But, I had never focused on a key aspect of this system; actually forming the group. It was perfectly understood that The Girls worked together. If it was for groups of small numbers, we split and if we needed more, we just recruited one of the devotees. (bad term, I know, but lapdogs doesn't sound any better.) Now that they were probably Googling ways to kill me without leaving any evidence, I don't think they would exactly be happy if I asked to join them for the English skit.

Why Miss Roberts continues to let us carry on with this stupid skit thing every term is a mystery to me. Oh right! The Girls and I almost carried out a protest when she stopped it in Eighth grade. The English Skit is a not-for-credit activity which started sometime in Middle School. We made groups of our own choice and carried out a 20 minute play of sorts, we write it, direct it and also act in it. Needless to say, The Girls always had the best one. We were nothing if not performers.

I left the English classroom in a daze. Yesterday, I trailed behind Ramona after lunch and for a change, kept quiet. If she noticed anything, she didn't say. It was that guy, man! That rude ass Ray, I mean, what was his problem?! I sat next to him for almost half an hour and he didn't even look up from his book! I hope he's not in there today, I mean, I could at least get some reading done if he weren't in there. It's not that I'm used to people falling over themselves when they see me.  I was known in the school, not liked. It's unfortunate that popular is a synonym for both of them. But, this guy? Ray? He literally didn't acknowledge my existence for 45 minutes straight. Is that even possible? I was used to dislike, even hate after what happened with Ramona. But, this ignoring thing?  On my last nerve here, people!

Ramona was walking in front of me with her head in her phone. I was 80 percent sure it's a meme page. That girl is only distracted by memes, dogs and dog memes. I caught up with her and she immediately started talking, "Why would Habib Hussain follow me? I'm pretty sure he doesn't know or care I exist." She said as if she was talking to herself. "Well," I said, "He's pretty much ready to kiss your feet. You know how Habib loves sass. And you got a lot of it." She looked shocked for a second and looked at her back. "Sass, Ramona, sass!! Who even says 'ass' anymore?!" I clarified. "You need to enunciate your 's's properly." , she said.

"And you need to get a boyfriend. And a life." I fired back. She nodded her head, said "Touche" and continued walking. I need to ask her if I could join whatever group she was in.  I sat next to her in Sociology and took a nap in whatever class was next. I stopped paying attention to teachers years ago. I came to school for attendance and then taught myself at home. I woke up when the bell rang feeling pretty good. I needed the energy; next was lunch.

 I had Habib look up this Ray guy. Apparently, one of his 'cousins' (Habib has relatives and family friends with relations far more complex than T Swift's love life.  At one point, he stopped trying to understand and started to call everyone around our age his 'cousins'.) knew him from summer camp, said his name was Ray Shen and he was in the year above me but, she couldn't tell Habib more. Apparently, Ray Shen didn't talk to anything or even exist properly. Poor dude didn't even have social media. It's like he didn't want to be found or something. Tentatively, I walked into the library and the heavenly cool air hit my face. Was the idiot in here today?

Yep, he was. In the same desk I had seen him in yesterday, with the same book probably. Today he didn't even look up. Because of some godforsaken reason, I felt the need to sit in the desk next to him. That's when he looked up,and he looked majorly annoyed. "Why are you sitting next to me?" he asked as if it was the most scandalous thing since Monica Lewinsky. "Because it's a free country." God, Tyra, could you be any more basic? What's next? Liking Justin Bieber? He sighed, "Do you have a desire to be punched in the face?", he asked in a slow and careful tone like he was telling an oversensitive toddler that Santa was not real. "No, I just have poor impulse control." I admitted.

It was true, my OCD was the reason I was caught up in this shitstorm after all. It took me a better part of my life to understand that I was not a bad person. I just felt the sudden need to do random stuff  and most of the time, this random stuff was not good. I was diagnosed when I was 12, people generally assumed it was just adolescent depression but, after a bit more digging, we found the culprit; Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Then came the questions, "You are doing so well in school,why do you have mental disorders?" "What?! You go to see a therapist? But, I thought you were normal?" and the classic, "Isn't OCD the cleaning disorder? It makes you want to clean stuff not shout things at random people!"   You know the world will not end because of nuclear wars or asteroids; it'll end because of stupid people who think they are smart.

He looked at me for a second and then got bored with my face. He didn't look at me for the rest of the time I sat there. I didn't call him either, I had fake lashes on today, so it would get weird if he actually punched me. Bell rang, I took the copy of 'Little Women' I had been pretending to read and marched determinedly to the Psychology classroom where Ramona would be.

She was sitting in the back of the classroom, upholding her loner weirdo status. I sat next to her and immediately launched without preamble, "Okay, I know you've been super nice to me and that it's not okay to expect things from you but, I really need to get into whatever team you are in for the English skit." She didn't look at me but, nodded. Oh thank God, wait, she's still nodding. Was she having a seizure? "Ramona?" I asked. No answer, more nodding. "Ramona!", I seized her shoulder and shook it. She stopped nodding, turned towards me looking startled and that's when I saw it ; headphones. She took out her phone, stopped whatever hobo music she was listening to and said " What?!" as if I was  the crazy one here.

"Did you hear what I said?" I asked her impatiently. "No and I don't want to. I'm too tired to pretend to like you, today." She said while starting to put her headphones back on.  "Well, I'll tell you anyway," I shot out, "I need you to get me into whatever group you are in for the English skit. Can you ask your group leader to take me in? I mean, I don't need a big part or anything, I'll be a tree if necessary." She looked astonished and slowly said, "Are you serious right now? You are willing to be a tree to feel included? Tyra Morgan; the girl who has directed the school's plays since eighth grade, is willing to be a fucking tree in a class skit? What happened to the girl who sassed teachers and punched jocks? Are you actually gonna sit here and do nothing while the skit goes on without you?" She stopped to catch her breath, "Look, I know how much this skit thing means to you. I don't know if I can get you in the group, but, if you are here to be a tree, I am not even trying." She crossed her arms and stared me down.

She's right! I can't just sit here like some moping widow! I had directed these skits for years, I can do it again! If I try hard enough,maybe I can put together something better than The Girls'! Ramona had it right, I wasn't some tree! I was Tyra Friggin' Morgan.

***

A/N

Hey, pretty people! Ooooh, what's Tyra gon' do now? Major revelation coming up in the next two chapters!! I know the updates have been irregular but, I'm in some major drama right now! :(

Vote and comment if you liked it!! Do it, even if you didn't! Did you do it? Go on, I'll wait. Did you? Oh my godh, thank you so much this is such a surprise!!!

Next update soon, mi amore!

-Love, Tannaz.