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*this gif^^ is trippy
"Question of the year: do you think there's a way for us to change the world?" The teacher asked as she wrote her words on the board. I thought about it and looked at Richie who was trying to balance his pencil on his forehead.
"No." I spoke up, she looked at me as I was the only one who dared answer such a question with endless answers for endless reasons.
"Why do you think that, no hope for your fellow humans, Ms. Mulligan?" She fired back at me. I felt the myself glowing from the light that projected through the window. It felt warm, or maybe it was from the internal glow I felt. It was weird because here we are—Sophomore year and I'm still pushing through. I was sorta scared. Bust also at peace?
"Not these humans, Miss, maybe if we were smarter, just maybe, would we change everything." I said, I felt all eyes on me as I interacted with the one of higher up— my English Teacher— I had we last year as well.
"Are you calling your peers intellectually inferior?" She chuckled a bit, knowing I was one to never hold back my opinion in this class room. English class Arri always felt all-powerful, like I was in my element.
"Well we cant all be smart, but no that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying if we didn't just think about changing Derry, cause that is our world, why not change the world-world?" She looked at me as if I had figured out cold fusion. She then chuckled with a sly half grin and turned to the board writing: which world is worth saving?
"You've had me all last year, Arri, would you like to do the honors?" She gestured to me which made me quirk an eyebrow.
"I've brought us to today's lesson?" She shook her head and pointed to the board.
"You've brought us to life's lesson, save the world, the world you think is worth saving." She said gesturing out the window.
The bell rang, I got my books together and waited for Rich to do the same, he had grabbed my hand and lead me to his locker. He kept on looking at himself in this dumb mirror he put in his locker. Let me just say, I finally look like the rest of my class. I mean I looked about twenty-three while everyone else looked nineteen, but at least I got in more.
Richie stood about four inches over me by now, but I was sure to catch up. My doctor said that by my senior year I'd be five-foot, eleven. Richie's doctor said he'd be six-foot, three. But at least I wasn't some short stack of pancakes who needed to look up at her boyfriend...yet.
"You did real great in English, babe." He said with a slight pink hint on his cheeks as he looked at me through his mirror, I smiled at him.
"What do you wanna do tonight?" I asked before standing next to his locker and opening up mine, yup, our lockers are next to one another's. I stuffed my books in my locker and closed it before going into his and pulling out my sketch book— I had art with Eddie and Bill next.
"I could think of a couple things." He said closing his locker than nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. I rolled my eyes at him lovingly and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Well, what if we all go to a party, like tonight?" I asked, he pulled away so I could see his face and furrowed his brows at me. I grinned goofily and pushed his glasses up for him.
"Sure, I'm down for a party, but why would you be down for a party?" He asked me. I gasped at him and put my hand on my chest, the rest of the Losers then started to pile around us, well, of course my Mike, he's homeschooled, we liked him that way.
"Stan, don't I look like the party type, tell him?" I asked as I leaned my elbow on him, Stan an I were now the same height. Five-foot, ten inches.
"You look like the party type, but we all know you're not the party type." He said making Eddie and Bev snicker. I glared at the two of them and huffed.
"Well, you'll all see tonight, we're going to Justin Conaway's party and I'm gonna have the most fun out of all of us." I said before grabbing Eddie's hand and dragging him to art class with Bill following us.
"I don't think it's that bad, Arri," Eddie sad as we sat at the our shared desk. The desks could hold four people at a time so it was Bill, Eddie, Me, then this kid named Alex— he never came to school though.
"You just like q-quiet." Bill shrugged and started to sketch today's topic. All it said was clay (expression)—I've learned that Bill was the type to sketch before he drew.
"But if quiet equals no fun then I don't want quiet. I mean, do you guys think I'm fun?" They looked at one another and then at me.
"Yeah, but that's because we know you." Eddie said. I 'pfft'd and leaned my head on the desk. I could be fun, I wasn't the stick in a mud. Woah, didn't that bitch Peggy call me that eighth grade year?
I felt a hand on my shoulder and was pushed up. I looked to see Eddie gripping onto both of my shoulders and looking at me desperately.
"Listen, Arri, you don't have to be 'fun' for anyone," he said, "we'll be with you regardless, and besides, I think you're pretty great." He got a little red during all of this. I 'awe'd at the boy. I smiled at him and gave him a hug before pulling away and ruffling his hair. Eddie reminded me of a puppy, but one of those puppies that have a spot on only one eyes.
"Eds you are absolutely the sweetest," I cooed at him, "sorry for calling you 'Eds'." I realized my mistake after I made it.
"No, I've kinda accepted it, you and Richie say it all the time," he scratched the back of his brown curls and smiled at the desk before going back to his work.
It wasn't long before the teacher had come around to check up on us. I felt as if my clay figure was difficult, not to mention it was made of modeling clay, I had to keep hearing it up to use it. He stopped at my end f the table.
"What does this have to do with expressions?" He picks up my little clay figurine and examines her. I felt myself get nervous and scared.
"Dance expresses anything and I've always wanted to be a ballerina— guess that dream isn't for me." I shrugged and nodded as he placed the ballerina model in my hands.
"Wasn't exactly the assignment." I felt scared, art was the only thing I felt was a dream I could actually make reality. I just needed people like him to see that.
"It's not because I'm disrespectful."
"It's because your an artist."
He walked away and left me with my dead dream in my hands, "a ballerina, huh?" Eddie asked. I shrugged and smiled at the faceless figurine.
"Yeah, but I keep having a reoccurring dream where ballerinas drag me in an alley and gracefully stomp me with their pointe shoes." I said making them laugh.
I may be a stick in the mud, a worthless ballerina, or a 'sally no-fun'. But I was a pretty okay Arrietty Mulligan.
