Typically Wrong

Chapter Two: Who the Hell do You Think You are?

I missed first period. That really, really sucks. It's probably the only class that I like. American U.S. History. While everyone assumes this to be the most boring class that ever hit the face of the planet, I’m the exact opposite. History is just too amusing to be taken so lightly. The more you study history the more you realize how often it repeats itself.

You’d think we’d learn from history and not make those same mistakes. As humans, it’s our job to have faults. I find it interesting to learn those mistakes and to see the stupid blunders we’ve made in the past. It’s entertaining to realize how imprudent and ignorant we really are sometimes.

Take high school students, for instance. We always tend to make the same mistakes and then complain about the ‘unfair’ consequences. Again, you’d assume that middle-school students would learn from our idiocy, but they don’t. Rather, they imitate it. They cheat, they have unprotected sex, and some try drugs, while others try alcoholic beverages. They bully and gossip. Some are just plain rude. No matter how many times adults advise against it, we still do it.

We think: ‘Why the hell not?’

Even if we get our answer, we ignore it claiming it’s not a good enough reason not to. Other times, we just get caught up in the moment.

Let’s pause. I just wanted to say one of the stupidest mistakes I've seen in high school. That is: carrying around a cup of coffee, trying to get to her next class. I don’t think she quite realized how crowded the school hallways really are, especially during passing periods.

I struggle to fish through a chain of unhygienic and overly perfumed students. Trying to keep my thoughts positive and away from my stomach pain, I remind myself I have Pre-Calculus next. The work isn’t so bad and the teacher is pretty relaxed. Plus, I’m not too shabby in math. My thoughts dangerously veer back to the situation at hand. The hallways. The shoves and pushes are a part of daily routine.

This next part isn’t.

Splash!

I freeze in place, attempting to process the situation. Students pause as well, witnessing the act. They only stop for a moment though, before moving into their next class. I, however, cannot move or assess exactly what had just happened.

The warm, gratefully not burning, coffee finds it way passed my dress and onto my skin. A scream threatens to escape my throat. I look up at the origin of this issue. An average-sized, average-weighted brunette standing in front of me. Her brown eyes are wide, awaiting my reaction and boy is she going to get one.

Oh, I forgot to mention that that stupid mistake had happened on this day…And they call blondes stupid. This day also reminds me of how much she loved to call herself ‘average’. God, I am so sick of that word.

“Do you even realize how much this dress cost?” drawls off my lips. I don’t like the dress, but it is still important. My mother got me this dress and I know that anything she gets me will not be low-priced. The fact that this dress is pretty much ruined scares me to the core. Mother will think I did this on purpose. And now the pain in my stomach is returning! All this and the fact that I’m PMS’ing leads to this rant: “Do you even know how expensive this thing is! And you’re just standing there like a little mouse with no freakin’ care in the world! You haven’t even apologized! Do you just enjoy ruining dresses? Does it come with some sort-of sick fascination to you? You’re a damned idiot, aren’t you? Not only did you ruin my dress, but my cardigan too!”

When I finally stop to take deep panicking breaths, she talks. “I-I’m s-s-sorry! I’m n-new here! I was in a hurry to class and I really wasn’t paying attention!”