I, psycho.

Chapter Two

- It has been said that the greatest trick the devil pulled was convincing the world that there was only one of him.

  I wore my lucky sock on my first day in college.

  A gray hoodie over my bra-top coupled with black jean pants and my favorite boot and sock made up my attire for the day. I'm pretty sure it's important to note that they -my assemble- were all designers.

   Pocketing my wallet after digging out my keys, I walked out of my apartment and to my Dodge Challenger Hellcat. Pretty sweet, I knew.

   It took only a couple of minutes to get to school since I didn't do red lights and even lesser to get through the thong of first years like myself since I barrelled my way past.

  The very helpful map directed me to my homeroom, one with only ten state of the art seats. Personally, I thought calling these...creations chairs would be downright wrong. Someone had spent way too much time on something that would still end up beneath my butt.

  I took the one closest to the door. I liked having a clear view of my escape. This school thing could only last so long until I got bored and ditched it. Or killed somebody, whichever was required.

  It took another full minute of me doddling on my table before another student came in. Sashayed in, more like.

   She wore designers, like me. I took that as a bad omen. Don't ask me why.
  She was blonde and bimboish but...she was packed with power. Probably a no-brainer. Get it? No- brain- ah...

"Who are you?" She asked, an elegant brow arched in question.

I let my eyes slowly peruse her body as I thought on what to answer her. In the end, I decided not to answer at all and went back to my doddling which was actually not doddling at all if one could read the ancient language of the dead which only the dead -I being the exception- could read. But then, I thought, in a way, in was doddling all the same--

"Hello!" Blondie said, snapping her fingers in my face, she was way closer that acceptable and I told her that.

  "Do you know who I am?" She fumed, red blotches appearing on her face. She did not do angry well. I had thought this kind of things only happens in the movies.

Tilting my head slightly I scrutinized her with new eyes, trying to figure out if had over-rated her in terms of brain capacity.

Being a bimbo was one thing, but being a stumbo, a stupid bimbo, was another.

Skeptical, I said, "no" and then went back to doddling, or not doddling.

  A magic infused hand came to slam on my desk, rather rudely at that, making the table -for lack of better word to describe the table that definitely wasn't a table- crack in the middle.

It was my turn to arch a brow at stumbo, "what was that for?"

   "Y-you mongrel!" She spewed, slamming her hand onto the table, again.

Another crack. Sturdy little fucker, I thought, impressed, with the table that is.

"How dare you speak to me in that manner?!" She growled viciously.

"Calm down, Miss Eleanor" a new voice, fused with a subtle hint of cálïbrà, a usually efficient calming spell that I hadn't seen in action in years.

Slam number three came then. I had said usually...

"Don't you use that stupid spell on me" Stumbo said to...

My brows flew up at what I saw upon looking at the doorway.

It looked like stumbo and I had an audience of eight powerful students and our homeroom teacher.