"Alright class. How do you say 'Until Tomorrow'?" asks Mrs. Limbian, my Spanish teacher. Everyone raises their hands but me.
"Olivia, why don't you give it a go?" she asks with a glare. You see, I'm not the most liked around here by the teachers. Or the students for that matter. I'm one of those girls who people fear if they step in the wrong direction. No, I'm not one of those prissy girls who get all the guys nor am I a bully. Actually, I'm the complete opposite.
I'm a 5'6 17 year old girl. The name is Olivia Thomas. You might be thinking about what I said about people fearing me. They fear me because I pull pranks. Huge pranks. The last time someone messed with me was Freshman year. He was a senior that threw my books on the floor. My friend and I stole his phone and programmed his YouTube app to only show a 300 pound, 68 year old man hula dancing. You should've seen his face when he tried to show his friends a video. Lets just say rumors were spread and no one messed with us that year. Anyway, back to Spanish.
"Hasta mañana, señora."
"Muy Buien, Olivia." She says. She then mutters under her breath the single word "Puta."
"I'm sorry, but what did you say?" I ask, my face filled with innocence.
"Nothing." She grumbles. Mrs. Limbian is one of those teachers who hate me. She hates me because her son was the guy who pushed the books out of my hand.
"Alright, class dismissed." She says.
"But, we have 20 minutes left." said my friend who helped me program the phone, Sarah. Everyone fears her as well. Some people call us the devilish duo.
"Class dismissed." Limbian repeats. "Oh! We have two new students tomorrow. Their first period room is..." her voice trails away. Her face pales. "Poor boys. They're in band."
Sarah and I stand up and start running around, celebrating. Not many people are in band because we scared them off. I play the trombone and Sarah plays the trumpet. There's so little band members that they fired the conductor and now we just play out instruments by ourselves. There is no marching band.
"Anyway, go home." I sprint out of the classroom, Sarah hot on my heels. When we get to the cafeteria, we sit down in our usual meeting spot.
We don't even have to talk to eachother to understand what were going to do.
"Operation new kids?" I ask.
"Operation new kids." Sarah confirms.
