Dead Eyes

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'I wanted her to seek me, to trust me.

I wanted to be her point of contact. The problem was

she didn't need what I had to offer.'

L.L. Water



I have always been a fair student. Not the best of course. But just below the best ones.

So there I was, having a stupid day. You know that type of day which starts badly? Like right before your period, when everything and everyone annoys you? Well my day started with a ridiculously long sleepless night. I fell asleep a mere couple of hours in the early morning. When my clock started yelling at me to wake up, I just threw it against the wall. My mom will freak out. Poor thing, she keeps buying them to me. Then, as if it wasn't enough I was in a haze, my cloths didn't fit on me, or with each other. I know what you're thinking: How could your cloths not match if they are all the same colour? Well, they were stubborn, idiotic textiles. I finished up putting on a pair of jeans, big boots, a Metallica t-shirt and my leather jacket. I had to do my make up 2 times because it was all smudgy and I finally ended up wearing none. It was of course too late to go around the gas station and fuel my bike, so my father dropped me off at school on his way to work. So far this shapes up to be a pretty shitty day doesn't it?

I have to tell you that when everything goes according to the normal standards of life, like when I feel good in my clothes or when I get the eyeliner to contour my eyes smoothly, I am very positive and ready to face anything. Most of all, if I get to ride my motorbike, the road enhances my already calm state. Please don't get me wrong, I am not your kind of average "angry all the time" teenager. But in days like these I just get a tad irritated. I observed some time ago that we humans are becoming softer and softer. We don't get to worry about going to hunt the mammoth or about cold and predators, yet the little things bother us the most and seem unsurmountable.

I arrived to school and went directly to my math class. Mrs Parsons, our math teacher, decided that it would be fun to give us a surprize test. That was the moment I realized my day cannot get better. No matter how much I would try, this was bound to be a tall hurdle. Hence, my decision was to keep up and just look forward to my quiet room. As I was solving down the exercises, Sylvie, one of my colleagues, tapped me on the shoulder and asked for my paper to copy the answers. I pushed the papers I had finished towards the end of my desk and continued to write the last exercise.

"I cannot see clearly, you idiot! Give them to me!" She whispered in that bossy tone she uses.

I took the pieces of paper, arranged them nicely, added the last exercise which I had finally figured out, and handed them to Mrs Parsons. I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me.

Now, don't let me be misunderstood, I have nothing against helping my colleagues. Even though in my opinion when one doesn't study, one should take responsibility for it, it is not my job, nor my will, to start preaching. Not everybody had my parents. They bothered me with these principles my entire life. I think they rubbed off on me, but I never go that far as in to force them on somebody else.

My issue with Sylvie goes deeper than that. You might not know this, but when you are the freak in school, you usually don't have a lot of friends. That automatically makes you the weak animal in the big wilderness. When I got into this place, Sylvie started picking on me all the time. PG stuff, nothing I haven't heard before. I recognize she is perfect. Blond, long, shiny hair, all curls. She's a cheerleader so she is in very good body. Her name came from some French grandma. She loves telling the story of her few vacations spent in the south of France, combined with a fake French accent, to whoever wants to hear. I am sure everyone heard it at least 4 times, and I am only talking about the people who are not part of her group. Then, last week, the tragedy happened – for her, not for me. And I only call it a tragedy because she took it so bad. So, we were in the lunch break and I was about to take a seat at my table, my single, freak show table, when I heard Sylvie calling my name.

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