K-12: Legacy

Show and Tell

"You know the rules, Elliott," the teacher says, and then pauses dramatically. "The box!" she points to a box with a heart-shaped window in the front.

I turn around with nothing on my mind except running away, but the teacher grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me towards the hateful box. Next, she binds my wrists and ankles and attaches the bitter end of the puppet strings to the controller. I was now a lifeless marionette.

She cranks the music box on her desk, smirking, and then shoves me into the puppet house. "It's for your own good, Elliott. It's out of love," the teacher said in my ear. She then started to jerk the controller, causing my arms and legs to move in complicated dance steps.

I tried to struggle, but I couldn't get out, no matter how hard I tried. The kids looked on and screamed for more, but my legs hurt like hell for dancing nonstop for like fifteen minutes!

I blinked away the tears as my classmates took pictures and the bright flash from the cameras hurt my eyes.

"Stop it!" I begged, but people just kept taking photos and screaming and grabbing my stuff, almost like I had never even spoke. These fuckers!

"WHY CAN'T YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!" I yelled, kicking the inside of the box. I was ignored again.

I was overwhelmed beyond belief. Did the principal even know what was going on?

Finally, she stopped moving the marionette controller, and I got out, tears running down my face. 

"Now sit down!" Ms Carley said, gesturing toward my desk. I sat down, grateful that I wouldn't have to dance anymore.

"More! More! More!" The students chanted.

"No, no, no. That's enough, students. Now get started on your history. Open your books to page forty-two."

I opened my textbook and started to read about some stupid dead Americans until my eyes crossed.

Eventually, I gave up and just stared at the clock, when I heard a snip, snip.

I turned around to see this girl with badly-dyed pink hair and acne with a pair of scissors in one hand, and my entire braid in the other.

"What the hell, Ava!" I gasped, running my hand through my hair. She stuck out her tongue at me and threw the braid at the wall. I got up and rushed towards it, picking it up and holding it to my head, as if that would do any good.

"Ms Carley!" I shouted. "This bitch behind me just cut my hair!"

The teacher rolled her eyes and took the braid away. She crossed the room and threw the braid in the trash can by her desk.

"Just sit down. You can get extensions later," she snapped. I didn't move, my hand still where my hair was recently cut. 

"Sit down, Elliott!" said one of the kids. Ava threw her scissors at me, and they hit me in the nose, causing it to start gushing pink blood. 

I felt my nose, and then looked at my hand, and then everything just went black.

"Eww, gross!" The class said in unison as I hit the ground.