This Is Our Sweet Blasphemy

An Angel, A Demon

I was really interested in what Andrew was about to say, I was so close to finding out something new about him.

His head snapped to where the sound was coming from, and I did the same. I saw a thin blonde on the floor and a raven-haired-with-too-much-mascara chick was standing above her. The girl who was on the floor started weak attempts in getting to her feet, telling the girl to stop and was about to say something starting with “But I-” before she earned a slap across the face from the raven haired girl. Everyone started standing, some even got out of their places and created a circle around the two girls, in just a few seconds they were covered by the mass and I couldn’t see them at all. I was already standing without knowing and I headed towards the fight. Andrew was still in shock by what was happening, but when he saw me moving he followed.

I wondered where the other teachers were, I didn’t even know if there were any teachers in the cafeteria right now, Andrew might be the only ‘authority’ there, and he sure wasn’t doing much. I pushed pass the curious girls and saw how things had escalated quickly. The raven-haired girl was on top of the blonde screaming something to her which I couldn’t make out completely because her screams were pitched and deafening. Raven was ‘punching’ Blondie. I say ‘punching’ because she had her hands open in slap mode and it looked more like she was face palming her repeatedly; I guess she was just looking out for her manicure. That’s when I realized how girls don’t know how to fight anymore these days. Blondie started crying and I was able to understand one of the words Raven was screaming at her: worthless.

And that’s when I lost it.

I’ve been called worthless before. Hell, my parents called me that numerous times before. At school, the people who called me that usually went home with a bruise, but just because I beat the crap out of them doesn’t mean what they said didn't hurt. It was far worse when my parents said it though, because I couldn’t exactly slap my dad across the face; it’s lead me to think that maybe they were right, maybe I was worthless, I sure wasn’t valuable at all. I swore a lot, I wasn’t lady-like, I didn’t care about being presentable, I wasn’t social, I also wasn’t socially acceptable.

In the end I guess that’s what makes you valuable. You’re different. If you’re a miner and stumble across thousands of diamonds, you’ll be stupefied, and while looking across those piles of diamonds you find one beautiful red ruby, the only thing you’ll be curious about is that one ruby. Why? Because she’s different and one of a kind.

I went behind Raven and yanked at her ponytail, snapping her head backwards which made her let go of Blondie who had a nose bleed from the furious face palming and her light blue eyes were red, tears all over her face. She scrambled back-wards into the arms of the priest who was trying to calm her down I heard him faintly say “It’s okay Ivy, get someone to go to the nurse with you…” Ivy? Isn’t Ivy my roommate?

My thoughts were interrupted by an annoying high pitched voice saying “Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me bitch.” She had her face in front of mine and I could smell her strong-ass perfume, I knew I could take her on in a fight, but she actually had a chance of winning if she approached me just a few centimeters more and intoxicated me with her chemical smells. I raised my eyebrows at her; did she really just call me a bitch?

Okay, let's get this straight: she interrupted my conversation with Andrew, she beated my roommate, she called my roommate worthless, and she calls me a bitch? Oh she is so on my dark list. I didn’t really have a dark list, but I just mentally created one with her name on the top, underlining that shit twice.

I clenched my fist and punched her in the nose. Maybe I couldn’t pick up luggage without stumbling but at least I could throw a punch. It wasn’t that strong though, but Raven stumbled backwards all the same, clutching her nose and giving out a squeal. I swear to the God I don’t believe in; if she gave one more high-pitched scream, squeal, whatever, I would punch her again. In the nose. Hard.