.:.:. ONE .:.:.
I walked towards the Dictator’s office. Surely I wouldn’t like him, and surely he wouldn’t like me. I wasn’t sure he, or any of the other lackeys that people call “teachers”, would. What they would see of my future, I'm sure, are dim prospects. To them, I’ll look like I screwed up big time. My looks would not land me a good job. Anywhere. I mean anywhere. But what do they know? I just moved here. I'm an artist, but how would they guess? I could be an award-winning actress, or the best goddamned singer anyone would have ever known. And it was true, I could sing. I guess. So I’ve been told. I'm not a good judge of my own character. Not inside, anyways. I know my outsides well.
I snuck a glimpse of myself in a window as I walked past. I couldn’t see much but a fuzzy red glob where my hair would be. Trailing down to my butt, it was my pride and joy. I could also see faint gobs of color where all my tattoos were. I could cover most of them easily, not that I wanted to. It was summer, my favorite time of year, and I had on a white V-neck tee that was partway rolled up to expose some shoulder, and shorts. Not too short; I'm odd enough to begin with without being a whore. My mother’s insistence on teaching me how to sew worked for me when it came to those shorts. I sewed intricate, lacy swirls and red roses over the soft denim, making them by far my favorite pair of shorts I had ever owned. From there I was all legs, until they hit the top of my Combat boots, which went up to an inch above my ankles. Today, all but the tattoos on my feet were exposed. I can’t handle flip-flops, so the Sparrows won’t be seen by anyone but my family and I. I sported Buddha, lotus flowers, roses, dragons, koi, and many other Japanese- style ink down my arms and calves, with a small tattoo of a flock of birds above my collarbone. Pretty snazzy for a Senior, huh?
The Dictator’s office was across the street. This damn campus was so big it had to be expanded to two whole blocks. Two blocks wasted by a damn school. But I already got numbers from a few boys who might be my taste. They may think I'm easy, but just let them think that. Just for a little while. I clicked my nails against my iPod along to the beats that thrummed from the small device. This Dictator shit better not take long. I just want my list of classes and that’s it. People were ogling. Good. I enjoy getting out there. Bubblegums and stoners and little freshman geeks with giant backpacks and giant doe eyes were all staring. The beats drowned everything out. I strolled across the crossway to the Dictator’s office like I had all the time in the world. This was a good day. A good day to be alive.
Until it wasn’t.
It’s funny how I loved attention. But somehow it wasn’t as funny when they all got to watch me die.
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Ophelia
Science FictionThe switch was confusing. But what would she do with her second chance? Ophelia Trillo was the girl who did whatever suited her. Tattoos, piercings, red nails, redder hair, and summery clothes. People adored her and she loved it. Even though she did...