That Game We Call High School (Completed)

That Game We Call High School(6)

That Game We Call High School

Chapter Six

Army of Plastics

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Armies - They're supposed to protect, fight, and justify what they believe in. Could be their country, religion, their future, or their present.

But, in high school, you see all these things you call cliques. But, sometimes, there are larger 'cliques' that make you think they're like armies. I mean, they're battling you down, and winning most of the time - The populars, at least - so, they're armies.. Right? Wrong. Armies are people you look up to, people who win or die trying. For something good enough. In high school.. They're just out for blood.

There's no protecting, fighting, or justifying that.

~*~

"Everyone's screaming 'You're never gonna get there!' Waking up shaking feels much better. And everyone's saying, 'Shape up and get a life!' If nothing goes wrong, then how will it feel right? Picture perfect doesn't mean much to me." I scream into my hairbrush in front of my mirror. The house is all mine, this afternoon. The day had been weird, with the whole Liam thing and the oh-so threatening blondes, but now I am in my own little land of jamming to music and pretending I'm onstage. But, my only audience is my reflection. Which, I'm completely fine with.

My voice came out in a yell, matching the volume of the blaring speakers. My eyes were squeezed shut, I jumped up and down along with the beat, putting all kinds of accents onto my words. I probably sounded like crap, but I didn't care. This was my favorite Every Avenue song, so I have the right to rock out to it in privacy.

The vibrating from my phone in my back pocket made me fall backwards, bringing me out of my rock stardom, for the time being. Taking out my phone, I saw that Calypso had texted me, asking if I wanted to come over.

Politely, I responded with a no. No one, not even Calypso or Lisa, could bring me out of my imaginary concert. Putting my phone on the bed, so it wouldn't both me anymore, I went back to yelling out the lyrics of my favorite songs. Along with horrid dancing.

~*~

I trudged down the school hall lazily. Thursdays were so depressing, just taunting you that Friday was a whole day away. I barely made an effort on myself this morning, with a slung-on black Tee, faded blue boot-cut jeans, and my black converse; I probably looked horrible. Oh, and my hair was in a messy bun. I bet Calypso or Lisa could pass of this look any day. That's what sucked about having could-be popular, pretty friends.. While you're just a loner.

Once I got to my locker and opened it, someone whispered my name into my ear, making me jump with a slight squeak. Looking to my right, I found a Liam Mathers in hysterics. Groaning, I hit his right shoulder, making him lean against the lockers for support - Still laughing his head off. I rolled my eyes, organized everything I needed for my morning classes, and slammed my locker shut. My locker was still covered in 'I'm Sorry's, only because I was too lazy to clean it off.

"What do you want, Liam?" My tone of voice was probably a little ruder that it should've been, but.. Come on! This is Liam, for crying out loud! He doesn't deserve any respect.

He recovered from laughing pretty quickly. It was a bit suspicious, but whatever. Liam wasn't smart enough to hide anything from me. Except his next taunting technique. And even that would be obvious to a blind man. "Just came over to say hi, can't I do that?"