In A Flash

Chapter 3 - A Whole Lot Of Illegal

First class, art. I'm stood outside the door, dreading going in. Can't I just skip? I'll do the whole 'new school, new me" thing tomorrow. The door swings open before I can make a decision, revealing the entire class sat in groups due to the desk layout. The teacher who swung the door open, stands staring at me with furrowed brows.

"Yes?" He asks, expectingly.

"Uh, I'm new." I announce dumbly.

"Welcome to our class 'New', I'm Mr Roberts." He jokes, causing some of the class to snicker.

I stare at them, still lost and confused. I recognise some faces from the parking lot. Knowing my behaviour and lack of control, by the end of the week no one will dare to get in my way again. I don't mean to be so pessimistic but I consider myself a realist and I really doubt I'll be able to uphold a good image for long. Seeing the students from earlier causes me to scowl. Why did I even choose art? I'm pretty mediocre at it. I guess it's better than history. The one year I took history, I felt like I was decaying in the classroom. The teacher droned on and on, the class never ended.

"I'm only teasing, just practicing some dad jokes for my new son," Mr Roberts explains.

So he's one of those teachers. The type to share their entire life with the class. I've never really liked teachers who talk about their personal life with students, do they have no one else to talk to? They only time I appreciate their over-sharing tendencies is when I don't feel like working or I'm tired, so sparking up a conversation that distracts them from teaching allows my brain to rest.

"Take a seat anywhere that's free," He continues.

With that, I plop myself down on the nearest seat and struggle to organise my things. I didn't have time to go to my locker so I still possess my skateboard. Despite the class's chatter, I manage to still make a ruckus as I slide my board under the seat and rummage through my bag for the pencil that I stuffed in there earlier. I feel many pairs of eyes on me. I don't acknowledge them however and lean back on my chair pulling out my phone and waiting for Mr Roberts to return from wherever he was heading off to.

"Why stop at capitalism? Destroy everything!" The curly haired girl next to me says dramatically out of nowhere.

I look up confused by this conversation to see that there's no one else sat at our table.

"Who are you talking to?" I whisper, bewildered.

"The government, the president, God? I don't know, just practicing my speech for when it's my time to shine."

I'll admit, I'm scared yet oddly intrigued.

"Hi, I'm Margo." I introduce.

I'll be here at this school until I graduate so it seems. I may as well make some friends, even if they are slightly bonkers. Who really wants to be friends with normal people anyway? Where's the personality? Where's the spice?

"Well, hello Margo, I'm Belle Esmé Duboit, but you can call me Belle or Bee."

"Is that what your friends call you?"

"Nope. I only have one of those and she calls me 'Worm' ...It's endearing in an insulting kinda way," Belle replies, wearing a far off look.

"Cool, I have none of those, but people usually call me words that I probably shouldn't repeat."

"Wanna be friends? I promise I won't call you profanities or insects."