As I walk to class, I compare schedules with Celia. We squeal when we realize that we have most classes together, including first period English with- inner groan- Mr. Elliots. He hates me. A lot.
We exchange "Bye!"s and "See you soon!"s with the rest of the squad and walk into the classroom. Mr. Elliots hasn't arrived yet- thank God- and we take sit down in two adjacent desks in the back corner of the classroom. If I'm gonna survive this class, I'm gonna need to be as far away as possible from Mr. Elliots.
Mr. Elliots walks in just as the bell rings. He turns around, and like the perfect cliche, writes his name on the board. I have always wondered why teachers feel the need to do that. Like, I get it with subs, but all of us have had Mr. Elliots before.
Celia nudges me, awakening me from my zone-out. I jolt to attention.
"Huh?" I asked. The class snickers, and I look around, wondering what's so funny. Mr. Elliots smirks evilly at me from the front of the room.
"I was attempting to take attendance. Is saying "Here" beyond your mental capacity, Miss Green?" I glare at him, humiliated and angry. How is it okay for a teacher to talk to a student like that? Without thinking, I retort,
"Sorry, I was just fantasizing about your painful and gruesome death." The class barely manages to stifle their laughs and I revel in the victory. Mr. Elliots's face reddens.
"Well you can fantasize about it some more in detention this afternoon," he snaps. I fume for the rest of the period, restraining myself from murdering him. Detention on the first day? My mom will kill me!
After class ends, Celia and I wall out of the classroom.
"He is a literal bully!" I exclaim. She nods.
"Yeah. Hey, but was totally worth it, watching you roast him like that. It was one the best things I've ever seen. I wish I had the balls to do that." She tells me.
Out of the two of us, I'm more outgoing, loud, irresponsible, and confidant. I've been told that I have a very big personality. Celia is the more reserved, responsible one out of the two of us. The cheerleaders always say that she is the mom of the squad.
Celia sometimes has confidence and self-esteem issues, which I totally don't get. She is utterly gorgeous. While I love myself and the way I look, I would kill for her flawless mocha skin, big brown eyes, petite body, and classic, regal, aura. Everyone always calls me "hot," but Celia is beautiful.
I sigh when I realize that my next class is one of the two that we don't share.
"How will I ever survive Physics without you?" I exclaim dramatically. She scoffs at my theatrics.
"Somehow you'll make it. I have to go to Calc now." She says. I clutch her hand.
"Please don't leave me!" I beg. She pulls away rolling her eyes.
"Stop making a scene. I'll see you next period."
"You wound me with your cruel words!" I cry out, tracing a nonexistent tear down my cheek. Celia just walks away, leaving me to be tortured alone.
"Did you say you have Physics? So do I! Wanna sit together?" Asks a cheerleader named Kelsey.
"Sure," I tell her. I actually don't mind Kelsey. She is really nice, and not fake at all. She is just overly peppy. Like REALLY overly peppy. She is super enthusiastic, and while that makes her a great cheerleader, it can get pretty annoying in large amounts.
I link arms with Kelsey, and we head to Physics together.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty DumbTeen Fiction
Lilah Green. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that she is the cliche gorgeous popular dumb airhead bitch. Dylan Mitchell. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that he is the cliche hot douchebag player. But what if they were both more than their st...