SPECIALS

Chapter Two: Michael

*Chapters will often be in different points of views*

I looked up from my iPhone to eye the new chick Mrs. Fish-face was ragging on. She was tall for a girl, I guess. Really red hair, pale skin, and super big eyes. They were the weirdest shade of green I’d ever seen. And dang, she had nerves of steel, that one. She didn’t cry or blush or anything, like most girls that got verbally embarrassed in front of the class by Fish-face. The chick didn’t look like she was scared of the old bat at all. Actually, she looked kind of ticked, in a subdued, controlled sort of way. Hm, I could respect that.

“Find a seat, Miss Stone.” Mrs. Fiske told her in an icy, domineering tone she saved for just about all of us. ‘Miss Stone’ kept her eyes trained on the floor as she moved swiftly down my aisle and slid into the desk behind me. She looked kind of pained, like she had a migraine or something. No surprise there. Just looking at old Fish-face gave me a migraine.

And just like that, our crotchety old teacher acted like the scene with New Girl hadn’t even happened, going back to her boring rant over some guy named Gaius Cassius Longinus, or something. I didn’t feel the need to listen in. From what I could tell so far, he was a total loser. 

My phone dinged, and I hurriedly turned it to vibrate before Fish-face heard and confiscated it- again. Or worse, made me sit in after class and write ‘I will not use a phone during school hours’, two hundred times. My fingers cramped at the reminder. I broke a lot of pencils on those days. Then again, I broke my pencils a lot. It wasn’t hard. Applying too much pressure made them snap like brittle old toothpicks. They really needed to reinforce those things with steel. I was tired of wasting good videogame money on packages of Number 2 Pencils.

I slid the phone out slightly from under my desk and read the text.

HEY, WHAT R U DOIN, MEATHEAD?

I tried not to groan. Why did my dumb sister feel the need to text me at all? Let alone during my homeroom jail time with Mrs. Fish-face? I typed in a reply discreetly.

Listening 2 the White Witch talk. What r u doin, tryin to find how 2 turn off the caps lock??

She answered immediately-

OH SUCKS TO BE U! & NO! CAPS LOCK IS MORNING TALK!!!

I rolled my eyes and replied,

Ur a loser Scarlet

The girl could text faster than the dudes at the Olympics could run.

I’M N AWESUM LOSER!! & I HEARD THEREZ A NEW GURL N UR CLASS! IZ SHE PRETTY??

What? The chick just got here. How fast did crap spread in this school?

Duz that matter?  I typed.

Her answer was immediate, once again-

YES!! SEND A PIC!!

I groaned in irritation. Of course that was important to my drama-geek little sister. She should just go... I don’t know... practice her lines or something. And what did the dummy want me to do? Turn around and be like, “Hey New Girl, say cheese”? That would just be plain creepy.

I was about to tell Scarlet to go get a life, when I felt a light tapping on my shoulder.

“’You can send her my picture, if it’s that important to her. I’ll survive.”

I almost jumped out of my seat at the sound of New Girl’s voice. To my surprise, though it was in a whisper, the girl’s voice was lower and huskier than I would have expected. I guess she seemed like she’d have one of those light, high-pitched voices that reminded me of Minnie Mouse. I looked around first, certain Fish-face would be right there to give us both detentions. When I saw the old hag was still up at the board, writing a comparing and contrasting chart about Shakespearean antagonists, I turned slightly to meet the chick’s gaze.