No Parents Allowed [COMPLETED]

2: the journal of fate

All around the school people were wishing Synthia a happy birthday. People were giving her presents and hugging her and I saw people even bought her cake. Damn, the kids at school are seriously obsessed with her. I even saw a banner that wished her a happy birthday somewhere on the third floor.

If Synthia and I still spoke, I would be super happy for her on her birthday. But she shut me out--after we'd been best friends for six years and I'm still kinda pissed. I didn't even say happy birthday on her Facebook timeline this year, because she never did for me after seventh grade (we stopped talking before my birthday in eighth grade).

Up until pretty recently, I thought we would become friends again. Well, it was more of a hope of mine. But I realized--no, I have always known--that it was an irrational wish of mine. She clearly didn't want or need to be friends with me anymore, but it was a nice thought to have. Like somehow fate would bring us together or something. It was stupid and a waste of time to believe in something like that, but I wanted to. Hell, I still want to. Now that I know it will never happen, though, I can't bring myself to even try anymore.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Will: engineering at 3:30 today. Are you coming?

Me: definitely!!! Wouldn't miss it for the world, dude.

Okay, so the part of me not really having friends? That was a semi-lie. I have this engineering program I help run with this senior Will, who's the closest to a friend anyone has ever been since eighth grade. We talk a lot over text and hang out sometimes, which is really fun, but we aren't besties. He doesn't know that much about my personal life and vice versa. But since we both want to be engineers in the future, we run the engineering program together. It's really brought us closer since last year.

Honestly, we might be becoming besities soon. We've been hanging out a lot over the summer and recently even more. He's really fun to be around and his stories are always funny.

So now I was in a good mood. My head was held high and my high ponytail was bouncy. I was wearing a tight black shirt tucked in to high-waist light-wash jeans and my booties with a two inch heel. I almost forgot to roll up the bottom part of my jeans a little but when I walked into my class I could feel my ankle's discomfort and rolled them up.

Then I looked up.

You know how I said I was in a good mood? Yeah, not anymore.

Seating charts. We have seating charts in this class. What kind of teacher gives seating charts in high school? And for art? Are you kidding me? Seriously this teacher just pissed me off. If I sit in the front I will do something. I don't know what, but I'll do it.

The seating chart was written nearly on the chalk board at the front of the class. Each desk had two people and most were boy-girl pairings. I didn't even look at the person who was to sit next to me when I found my name--I was too happy to be sitting in the back. Safe to say my good mood is back.

This is how the classroom works: you have a bunch of long tables set vertically (they're facing the sides of the room, not the front) and a huge space in the middle so everyone can walk. The left side of the room kept all the shelves where you would put your art projects to dry with cabinets underneath to hold things like glue and expensive paint stuff. The right side was full of different closets for different materials; a closet for paper, a closet for supplies (hot glue guns, staplers, rulers, etc.), a closet for paint we usually use (along with crayons and whatever else colors on paper), a closet for brushes, and two other closets for things I don't know of.

The back of the closet had a row of sinks and a closet for smocks or clothes you bring that can get dirty. The front was just a huge blackboard and the teacher's desk.