Confessions of a Bitch

Media

The remainder of the lesson is a blur much to my relief. I only catch the words "historical" and "representation" throughout the remaining forty minutes of class. As soon as the bell rings, I hurry out of class and into maths. To be honest, I don't know why I have to learn maths. It's not like I'll one day stare at a roof, trying to find the length of the hypotenuse. My teacher, Mr Kennedy, comes in and without saying a friendly hello, barks orders to start our work: Maths 3C chapter one. Mr Kennedy used to be in the Marines, so their rules of conduct apply in his classroom: no talking unless asked to, standing up while speaking, being quiet throughout the duration of the lesson, and more importantly, no toilet breaks. I heard once that a girl with a weak bladder wet herself in class. Mr Kennedy eyes me through his black rimmed glasses. He must be surprised I haven't done anything stupid yet. As you may have guessed, I don't adhere to rules.

As they say, rules are made to be broken. And I break them. I burn them until there's nothing left but ash and smouldering papers.

The bell rings fifty minutes later and I'm about turning towards the media department when I hear a voice behind me. "Blondie! Wait for me!" I roll my eyes and walk faster as David's voice reverberates out across the metal and brick walls. I catch the sight of Victoria and Alyssa and smile at them. Victoria grins back, giving me a full view of her two rows of sparkling teeth, while Alyssa just gives an awkward smile.

I enter my media class and take my seat at the back as a majority of the ducks and duckards (the male version of ducks) arrive as well. Media and drama are popular subjects at this school because most students believe it will help them in their future careers being the next Jonny Depp, Angelina Jolie, Katy Perry or Jonah Hill. I don't care about that. The only time I'll ever get famous is when I truly kill someone. The three minutes, or if I'm lucky, three weeks of fame will be worth it, as people see pictures of me on the television, net, and newspapers.

Mr Gold our teacher, walks in and places his laptop and stacks of paper on the table. He offers us a big grin and I can't help but grin back. I quite like him and so do ninety nine percent of other students. Anyone who doesn't like him must be out of their mind. He's in his mid-thirties with red hair and bright green eyes, and a smile is never far from his face. He also has a habit of cracking jokes and has peculiar habits, like giving useless tapes a small funeral before dumping them in the bin. I like him not only because of his weirdness, but because he understands I'm wired differently to others and gets my attitude. He also never loses his temper. That is a major winner with students.

He soon begins talking of the syllabus of the year. We'll be making documentaries, music videos and movies. I'm quite psyched at the thought of it. He hands out the thick booklets and announces he'll be picking our partners for the rest of the semester. An audible groan engulfs the class.

"Don't start groaning." He says as he crosses his arms, a smirk visible on his face, "Seeing it's your last year of high school, I've noticed most of you tend to stick to your cliques. So I decided it's time I mix all of you up." We begin groaning again. He raises an eyebrow, "Trust me guys you'll love me even more after this. People have a way of surprising you. You never know. You might even form new friendships." And with that he begins pairing people off, for our project on documentaries. Some ducks and duckards get to go together and I'm left cringing at the thought of being with a duck or a glass-bracist. My ears perk when I hear my name being called. "Amanda." I look at Mr Gold, wondering what he's about to do. He flashes me a cocky smile. Oh no. What is he going to do? "I've decided to pair you up with David." My jaw drops to the floor.

I narrow my eyes at Mr Gold, "What did you say?"

"I said 'I've decided to pair you up with David'" I can hear a sense of self satisfaction in his voice. The ducks almost begin protesting. Mr Gold shrugs. David turns to me and winks. My skin prickles. So the bad boy and girl are going to work together. What's going to happen next? Will they have nice romantic shag and have ten babies?

Then I think of Victoria. She's going to decapitate me once she finds out about this.