My Not-So-Subtle Life

June 7th, 2016

"All pop music these days sounds the same anyways."
"I could say the same about your type of music." I wanted to slap him.
    "You don't even know what type of music I listen to," I spat. Besides, I wasn't the one who had gone up to the front of the class, proclaimed their love for Justin Bieber, before playing possibly the shittiest song he'd ever written.
"Easy," he said, daring me with his eyes to fight him. He had an entire class that would back him up, regardless of what he said. What did I have? Me. "Loud, obnoxious, and broken." I smirked.
    "Kind of like your idol himself, isn't it?" I challenged. This guy was kidding himself if he thought he could beat me. Austin chuckled beside me, knowing exactly what I was thinking.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said to Matthew, who was still staring at me, his eyebrows raised. The class was silent, waiting for an outburst. Drama-hungry pricks. "I'm serious," I say, no backing out now. "What has he ever done for anyone but himself?"
    "What has Metallica ever done for anyone but themselves?" He shot back as a retort. I smiled. Glad you asked. And it isn't even my birthday.
"Well, lets see. There's the charity concerts, the advertisements, the not ruining other peoples' lives." He scoffed at me. As if he thought I was joking. "But the real question here is," I continued. "What has Justin done? Spit on people, brutally assaulted them." I rubbed my chin, as if pondering what to say next. "Oh, yeah! And then there's that time when he did absolutely nothing to stop his entire 10 year old fanbase from cutting themselves. I mean, if the money is in it for him, who's to stop him right?" I paused. Austin was staring at me with what I could only assume was awe, and the class began talking to each other in hushed tones, wondering what Matthew would say next.
    Matthew was fuming in his seat. As if it was ludicrous that anyone could insult his beloved Justin.
"Cutting is a pretty serious thing," Austin noted with a shrug. Matthew gave me one last glare before turning back to the front of the room with his friends. They kept glancing at me and snickering. Fuck you, I mouthed, when their backs were turned. Austin joined in on the snickering when he saw me.
"Fuck you, too then," I murmured with a laugh of my own.
    After the teacher arrived, nothing else happened. We took notes on his latest musical fascination, and practiced clapping along to different rhythms. When the bell rang, and class let out, Austin was blabbering about the latest Avengers movie, and I got about 15 shoulders that collided with mine as I packed up my stuff. I swear they rehearsed that.
    "You know," Austin began. I looked up at him. He was staring at me. "Maybe you wouldn't get so much hate if you just shut your mouth. You know, stopped caring." I sighed.
"I can't just not care. Trust me, I've tried. I feel some sick need to try to educate these fools, but only end up punishing myself. Is that so wrong? To want to spread the truth?" Austin shrugged, shouldering his bag.
"They can't be educated, it's a mad world." I smiled as he names one of my favourite songs.
"Whatever," I muttered. And then it was off to gym class, where there would no doubt be a repeat of art. I could only hope Isabelle wasn't skipping again.