"Iris, wake up! Iris!" I groan, pulling my blankets over my face. I don't want to get up. I don't want to get into that stupid little uniform, and I definitely do not want to face Mr. Morrison's scrunched up face.
Someone tears the covers out of my grasp. No, I don't want to get up! I blindly search for another blanket, only to find something cold, and hard. I open an eyelid, full of curiosity. I'm an idiot to show I'm even capable of that. A cold, slim hand shoots out and grabs hold of my wrist, angrily pulling at me. She's literally dragging me out of bed!
"Damnit! Just get up before I tear your arm out of it's socket, you damn puss!" the voice has a heavy Spanish accent, that, if I'd heard any other time besides now, I'd probably listen to it. She has that kind of authority.
I pulled back with all my might.
Once again, I crown myself queen of all idiots. Why? Because I fell for Esther's little trick. As soon as she saw I was actually fighting back, she let go of my hand.
I fell backwards, tumbled off the bed, and landed down hard on the floor with my butt. Ow, that's gonna leave a bruise!
Stubborn as I am, I give up. If I were to even try flopping back onto that soft, warm, tempting bed (Yikes! Just thinking about it is dangerous) Esther would probably run to the Rec-room, grab a metal bat, and hit me until I lifted a white flag (Yes, she would do that.) She's that merciless, but she's my friend, so I guess I'll deal with it today.
Not like I can get sick anyway. I'd need to have a fever, and it's really hard to fake that when this school is so damn high-tech.
Man, I wish I lived in the renaissance time. Life would probably be so much easier. I'd be a princess, fairest of all (Of course) and I'd have my own knight in shining armor (whoever that is) show up and kill the annoying fat and very ugly Sir Morrison. Oh wait, I think I should get rid of the Sir and replace it with Monster. And I'd also be able to do as I please.
I sluggishly get into the dumb St. Lawrence uniform. A white skirt, a black blouse under a white vest, black knee-highs (which everyone pulls down below their ankles) and white flats. It's annoying, and expensive, weirdly enough. And the worst part, (to me at least) my hair matches the stupid outfit perfectly.
My hair's "blonde" but an easier term would be white. As in first snow white, before anyone's walked over it. It reaches down to my thigh, and is perfectly straight. Not that I straighten it with a flat-iron, it's actually natural. I hate it.
But this school is all about bringing out your "natural character," which means, no make-up, no gel, curlers, flat-iron's, or hair dryers. It sucks, and the only good thing is that even the rich kids have to follow that rule. Money can't buy everything.
After I'm done putting on the hellish uniform, I trudge my way downstairs to the caf, where Esther's already saved me a seat.
She's eating what is called a veggie burger, but all I see is lettuce in between two buns. It's the reason she's so skinny and bony. I try to get her to eat some meat, but her parents are all out vegetarians and health freaks, which makes her one too.
For one of her birthday party's, her parents served this weird stale cake, claiming it was carrot cake. I knew what carrot cake tasted like, and that was not it. Everyone ended up going home with sick stomachs, including me, leaving the Garcia's confused.
I sit down across from her after taking my usual P.B. and J sandwich with some milk. She looks me up and down once before returning to her veggie burger. Nothing's wrong with me. Good.
It's a sort of ritual to us, ever since the day I went to class, without putting on the blouse thing, and the vest, instead going in a plain tank-top. It was embarrassing, nerve wrecking for me and the teachers, and took forever for people to forget about it.