Mischief Reborn

C for Cataclysm

Robin's POV

     I guess I should tell you about the Rebellion. It's kinda early for me to introduce this group that's a master at mutiny, but it's also too important not to mention.

     Too important to me, especially.

     In reality, we're just a bunch of people, of various races and hair colors, who want to right the wrongs of society. Discrimination's not right, everyone knows that, but why isn't anything changing?

     My freshman year consisted of small protests at night in front of the admin building, with us barely being heard, barely making a difference. Trust me, there were a lot of long nights where I thought parading around with signs preaching equality was kinda boring.

     That we could maybe do more.

     A lot more.

     But I didn't let it bother me too much; At the end of the day, I didn't specifically come to Mistifuse to take a grand social stand. I know that sounds kinda ignorant, but it just wasn't something I thought about back then.

     Not until glaring problems were shoved right into my face did I even contemplate joining the Rebellion.

     I guess I'm a bit slow.

     I'll try to retell this in the quickest way possible. From the beginning.

     Emphasis on try and beginning.

~*~*~*~*~

     So I was a few months into my freshman year; A bit positive, sorta innocent, and not really talkative. The ultimate trifecta.

     Aside from the fact that I stood out like a sore thumb against the 90 blonde beauties in my grade, and had crippling insecurity, things were going great. I just had normal 13 year old problems without anyone to share them with. (Now you gotta promise to not get sappy on me. Things usually have a way of sorting themselves out.)

     Geez, that sounded naive.

     I can't read this.

     Someone close my eyes. Please.

     But in all fairness, life did get a tinnsy weensy bit better when I left my room at 2 a.m one night. You see, I'm a total insomniac, and that's not even a joke. At the same time, I'm not gonna complain or anything because staying up late doesn't bother me.

     Just imagine the amount of reading I can get done between the hours of 12 and 4 :O. I'll give you a hint: A LOT.

     But the past few months have been... different. Especially because of my roommate, who we shall not name. Yet.

     She has the attitude of a spoiled Devil with the face of a moody angel. Hair the color of hay and manners as honorable as horse poop. Past Robin hated her deeply. Present Robin, in her infinite wisdom and maturity at 16, has turned a new leaf. Her hate has transformed into kindness for the best friend she's ever had.

     Ha!

     Never believe anything that shines a light on my "forgiving" nature. Face of a puppy, heart of stone, as they say about me. Who? People. What kind of people? The kind that say stuff.

     But with great sadness, I announce that my "heart of stone" is mildly cracked, for my levels of hate for She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has simmered down into great dislike.

     I know. I must be shunned.

     But the story of my saint-like release of pent up anger is one that will be told later.