For Experimental Purposes Only

Chapter 5 (Vee)

I didn't punch the teacher.

I mean I kind of punched the teacher.

But I had my reasons.

That teacher... What was his name? Mr. Cole. Anyway, Mr. Cole insulted me.

I was sitting in my classroom doing boring crap when Mr. Cole announced our homework assignments on the board.

It was crazy!

HOMEWORK
Chapters 7-12 in SS book. Finish 5-page essay.

First of all, each and every one of my 6 other teachers was giving me at least one page of homework or reading.

Second of all, I have a freaking life. Maybe annoying David, messing with Jason, and making Isa mad isn't what an average person considers to be fun, but it is to me.

Third of all, Social Studies is boring, and everyone knows it. And why do I have to write a five-page essay for a class that has nothing to do with my writing skills. I mean we've only been writing five paragraphs in Language Arts. AND IT'S LANGUAGE ARTS.

So I raised my hand and told Mr. Cole about the issues I had with this homework assignment. The thing is, when you stand up to your teacher in front of your class they all get really quiet.

It's like when you watch a movie in the theater and the main character gets stabbed and everyone gets really quiet because they think he's gonna die.

I just stabbed Mr. Cole, and everybody was ready to see him die.

But instead of giving us less homework, Mr. Cole became angry. His little bearded face got all scrunchie and I swear his eyes turned red.

"Young lady," he wasn't yelling, just forcing each word upon me like a hammer. "I give the amount of homework that I feel fits."

"Oh, so you just have a really bad feeling about the proper amount of homework to give a bunch of thirteen-year-olds?," I replied. Sarcastic comments are my strong suit.

He inhaled the entire atmosphere before breathing coffee and beef remains into my face.

"Victoria, would you like me to call your parents?"

"You can try. But neither of them wanted me to begin with, so you'll have better luck calling foster care."

I was gonna say something about making assumptions of orphans. But before I could that little turd of a teacher laughed.
A single laugh.

A "no wonder they didn't want you" laugh.

An "I would've done the same" laugh.

An "I feel bad for your foster parent" laugh.

And the next thing I knew my fist had connected with Mr. Cole's jaw.

The entire class was gasping in unison. I don't know if it was because I had just punched a teacher, or if it was due to the curse words that were rapid firing from
Mr. Cole's bloody mouth.

I didn't know what else to do, so I took a bow and sat back down at my desk. I raised my hand.

"Mr. Cole," I said like a good little girl, "I have a question about the homework."

The class exploded with laughter. My third day at school and I was already a seventh-grade goddess.

My third day at school and I was already suspended for a week.

David was not by any means thrilled to pick me up from school an hour early. Or thrilled to be watching me for the next week. He yelled and cursed a lot.

His friend, Zoe Marsn, said that she was going to watch me for the day.

Zoe smiled too much. Or maybe I frowned too much. No, no, it was definitely her.

She giggled a lot too. Mostly when David said something.

"So what do you wanna do today," she asked me like I was a toddler.

"Dunno," I responded with a shrug.

"We could go to the mall," she suggested.

I carefully crafted an answer that showed how little I cared.

"Oof"

"Does that mean 'yes',?" she asked.

"It means 'oof'," I replied.

She thought it meant I wanted to go anyway.

So there I was in Dillard's looking at some 'old lady trying to look young' clothing. It was honestly the perfect way to torture a rebellious teen.

I made her go in Hot Topic. Because no adult ever cared for a store that plays music too loud and sold every item a gothic girl ever needed.

"I like your hat. Very boho chic," she said to me in some store that only sells beachwear. Even though we live in Nebraska. Where there is no water whatsoever.

"Yeah," I emotionlessly responded, "I actually got busted for wearing in in school at least four times."

Later, Zoe told me, "I like your hair."
"Yeah, I used to have it all blue, but I like the one streak of purple better. I dye it a lot... you know so that I can hide my identity."

She looked scared. Good.

We didn't have a conversation that wasn't started by her. And I responded in the creepiest way possible.

By the end of the mall trip, Zoe was freaked out. Her eyes were bigger than they used to be. Plus, she kept randomly glancing at me. In which case, I would glare as much as I could.

We left the mall after lunch. We were in the car when she actually asked me a somewhat personal question.

"So, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Oof"

"Why do you do all of this? You know being dark and creepy and violent. I mean, why do you act like you don't care?" she asked.

"Because I don't," I replied.

"But you do. I know you care. About Isa and Jason and your grades. And you care about how other people treat you."

I gave a small laugh, "Yeah right."

"Yeah! David told me how you told Isa a bedtime story until she fell asleep. And how you got Jason to have an actual conversation during dinner. I know that the only reason you punched that teacher is because he laughed when you talked about your parents," Zoe explained.

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. Maybe those were all valid facts but that doesn't mean I actually cared. I just wanted Isa to sleep and Jason to talk and for Mr. Cole to shut up.

Zoe started talking again, "Listen, it's okay to be upset about something, just don't be too violent." Then she paused for a moment and continued, "Maybe what I should say is 'don't make David pull his hair out'."

I actually laughed. I haven't done that in a long time.

Zoe laughed too. Then she said,

"Seriously. David's giving you a shot. I think he really wants this to work out."

"You mean for the experiment?" I asked.

"No, I think for more than that."

I rolled my eyes again. Not for any reason. Just because I've been getting really good at it.

Zoe looked at me then sincerely said, "Go easy on David. Go easier on yourself"

Maybe I will.