I remember one day when I was in third grade, and my teacher assigned me with this partner, and I honestly really didn't mind.
But then, due to my obvious good luck, something absolutely had to go wrong about it...
The teacher told us to make self-portraits out of the colored paper she had given out to us. My 'partner' Teresa got brown colored paper when I got hot pink.
I didn't mind, but it seemed like Teresa did.
Teresa started complaining how 'the color wasn't the right shade' and 'how it didn't fully describe her skin tone,' which was 'sixty percent cacao brown.'
Back then, I had no idea what cacao was, so I just assumed it was poop because it looked like it anyway.
The teacher said she didn't have the exact shade of that color (bet you can't guess who asked THAT question), so Teresa came back to our desks, fuming.
She got a stupid idea. "Want to trade? This color doesn't match my skin tone, and if it doesn't, people who look at work in the halls might not recognize me if I have the hideous color of the color on me."
She was truly ridiculous.
If I could shove a few words into her brain without saying it out loud, I would have said, "Look, you crazy, skin-obsessed woman. You have sixty-percent poop brown skin. Cool. So your paper doesn't match your exact shade of poop? I apologize sincerely, but does my skin look hot pink to you? No? Well, am I complaining? No. So you shouldn't either."
Maybe that wasn't just a few words, but every letter of it was true and from my heart. That's all that matters. At least that's what my second-grade school counselor told us, but if she lied, don't come looking for me. Go yell at her.
Since I was a nice and innocent girl (everyone thought, that is), I said, "Didn't the teacher said we couldn't trade? She said she purposely gave us a specific color."
"The teacher won't mind." She argued.
You sure, lad?
"It looked like she did," I said, repeating how the teacher flailed her arms around to indicate we were probably going to get murdered if we didn't listen to her.
She said, "You idiot. You're blind, you know! We're only in third grade, idiot. I wanted the pink, you idiot. Idiot. The teacher's not going to do anything to us, you idiot. What's your problem with me? Idiot."
"Obviously nothing other than you calling me an idiot more than five times in the last minute."
After that, we weren't the best of friends, not that we were friends in the first place.
What I found most surprising was that she just sat down at my table like we were best friends and showed me a random picture of a random guy on an even random-er website, working out.
Did I mention that it was a decade after she called me an idiot countless times? At the time, I was a senior in high school.
"Isn't he hot?" She gushed like she was madly in love, which I couldn't disagree on. She looked at the ceiling, probably dreaming about the guy.
Since I wasn't a stalker, unlike her, I avoided the guy's face while looking at the picture. "Not really."
I knew what she was talking about - the attractiveness of the guy, but I was actually telling the truth. I'm not attracted to guys that scarily look like clowns.
She narrowed her eyes at me, expecting me to say something else.
Ohhh! She meant the other hot, the temperature one.
"Yeah. He's hot. It's obvious." I agreed, referring to his body temperature. He might need to see a doctor, or maybe just cool down.
"Yes! Finally someone- oh." She looked at me. "Not you again, Hot Pink Face." Glad she just notice it was plain old me.
She did not just call me hot.
Wasn't she the one who wanted hot pink in the first place?
"At least I agreed with you..." I smiled weakly.
She rolled her eyes and walked away. As much as I wanted to laugh about how she almost tripped in her mile-high heels, I didn't because 'Hot Pink Face' was a terrible name. The last thing I need is for people to tease me about what happened a whole decade ago.
I looked back at my sandwich and opened my mouth to take a big bite out of it, but a giant sat down where Teresa had sat before. If I didn't eat as much as I ate, he would've outweighed my side of the table and sent me to Mars as if we were on a seesaw.
Not that I'd like to be on a seesaw with the guy, anyway. He ruined my lunch. I'm going to ruin his life.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"I should be asking you that! You ruined my lunch! Where did you come from? And can you please go back?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry. I'm Lysander."
Good to see the guy at least has manners and knows how to apologize.
"Did I ask for your name?" I raised my eyebrows.
"I enjoy potato chips-" I cut him off.
"Did you just say your name was Lysander?" Please say I'm deaf, Please say I'm deaf, I repeated in my head.
"Yeah." He replied.
I internally groaned. There was no way the Lysander I know from A Midsummer's Night Dream looks like this idiot.
"Just saying, Lysander's a character in the Shakespearean book and play, A Midsummer's Night Dream."
"A what dream?" He asked.
"Nevermind." I muttered, "I don't know why I expected someone like you to know these awesome plays anyway."
"I know classics! I've been in middle school before!" He argued.
That was the lamest excuse I've EVER heard.
"What about A Wrinkle In Time?"
"Uhh..." His face showed confusion, but he said, "Yes! I know that one."
"You sure?" I asked skeptically.
"Of course! Test me. I'll know the answer. Definitely." He said, puffing out his chest.
"If that's what you say..." I rolled my eyes, "What happened in the broccoli patches?"
"Patches... Broccoli...uh-" He scratched his head. "I know it... just give me time to think."
"I'm growing old here." I tapped my foot impatiently, "And I really want to finish my lunch, idiot-free style."
He stopped scratching his head. "I remember now! He ate the broccoli."
"The raw broccoli?" I asked, "And who is 'he?'"
"Uhh... raw broccoli.. has good nutrients." He replied, completely ignoring my question.
This is proof. That he didn't read the fricken book. There was Meg and her brother.
"Sure... of course. Yeah, you totally didn't read it." I rolled my eyes. I completely expected this.
"Fine..." He groaned. "Now my turn to ask you a question." He didn't even wait for me to say anything before asking, "What's your name?"
"I didn't give it to you for a reason." Now that he mentioned this, I'm really glad I didn't stupidly give it to him the way he gave it to me. Has no one seriously taught this boy about stranger danger (not that I was a stranger or anything)?
"Please?" For your information, I only gave it to him because I'm too nice like that.
"Ughh... I already hate you. It's Julia." I said my name more quietly, so maybe he could hear it incorrectly and call me Julius or something.
"Like the one from Shakespeare's play?" At least he heard me wrong. Well, I really couldn't rule out the fact he didn't know what the character's name was.
"Bruh, that's Juliet!" I rolled my eyes.
"Isn't that what you said?"
"No." I rolled my eyes. Great," I muttered, "A stupid, dead, brainless guy is sitting in front of me at my table."
Then I looked up at him. "And you knew that play and not A Midsummer's Night Dream?"
"About right." He replied
"Where's your house?" He asked me all of a sudden.
"Bruh! Now you're-" He cut me off. This guy was getting onto my nerves.
"My name isn't 'bruh.'" He stated.
"Cool. Now, why are you asking for my address? You're a stalker...." I trailed off. What if I did something wrong with telling him my name? What if-
"Stalkers don't ask for your address." He stated bluntly.
"Yes, they ask for your name first. Oh, no! I've helped you achieve the first step-."
"There are steps?" He asked incredulously. "I never knew that."
"I'm not as stupid as you." I raised my eyebrows, "That's an act you're pulling there."
"There are three stages of life." He informed me.
"And what does that have to do with you being a stalker?" I asked.
He ignored me. "Can you guess them?"
I don't wanna guess, you sun-sized egoistic donkey. I know it's rude to call him all these names but... his annoying face and his annoying voice paired up? *shudders* I call it a nightmare.
"No." I said flatly, "Because what you're going to say is probably worse than what I'M about to say, so I'm going to guess. The three stages are dumb, stupid, and unintelligent. I bet you can guess which one you are. Correct! All three combined." I snapped.
By then, Lysander should have taken the hint that I wanted to be left alone, but since he was a stupid oblivious donkey, he didn't take hints.
"No. The first stage is teenage. You have time... and energy... but no money." He said.
"Tell me again why this concerns me?" I rolled my eyes.
"Then there's the working-age - you have money, you have energy, but ya got no time." That's my whole family in one sentence.
"So why-"
"And then there's old age... you have time and money... but no energy." He finished with a triumphant smile on his face while punching a fist up in the air.
The only thing he's accomplished is annoying me.
"So... what if you have no time, money, or energy?" I asked, curious.
"That's not my problem."
"Thanks for being SO helpful."
"You're welcome." He smiled.
I did not just thank him. Am I being possessed? I hope not.
He looked at me and then burst out laughing. Seriously, what was so funny?
Then the bell rang.
Time for study hall. Oh, joy.
"Well, I don't know what door you came into my life through, but I know what window to throw you out of. At least I can control that." I said, with a fake evil cackle before leaving his mouth hanging.
Study hall was fun. Calculus was not. And it got even better when I found out Lysander was in that class, too.
After the teacher took role, she noticed that Lysander was talking to some other guy during her lesson.
"You there." The teacher pointed at Lysander, "Why are you talking during my lesson?" The teacher asked.
"Who, me? Why are you teaching during my conversation?" Lysander asked, earning a few chuckles.
"If you show disrespect for me again, I will not hesitate to report you to the office." The teacher glared.
Lysander muttered something along the lines of "There's actually a vending machine in the office," before the teacher continued teaching.
We got a ten-minute break, so most of us just chilled in the hallway.
Then my best friend, Arianna, came up to me. Did I mention that my friend is imaginary? Please forgive me. Here was my nonexistent conversation with my even more nonexistent friend because you know someone with my attitude would never have a friend:
"Hi." Arianna chirped happily.
"Hey. Let me tell you something."
"Sure." She agreed.
"I would swim the ocean for you-"
"Aww...thanks."
"LOL just kidding there are sharks in there," I replied, cackling.
"I hate you."
I just grinned. She can continue to lie to herself.
"Think of a number between 0 and 20," I told her.
"It's t-" She started.
"Don't tell me, woman. Then add 32 to it." I continued.
"Done that..." She replied.
"Multiply it by two." I went on. "Subtract one.."
"Sure."
"Now close your eyes." She closed her eyes.
"It's dark isn't it?"
She had this really, really scary look on her face. Like she was gonna kill someone. Probably me.
"DID I JUST DO UNNECESSARY MATH? JULIA, I'VE ALREADY HAD MY MATH CLASS!"
"Uhh... if I'm not mistaken, then yes." I took a glance at the scary look on her face before deciding maybe now was not the best time to inform her of the test we have in Biology.
I sat down in a secluded area, but apparently, it wasn't secluded anymore because Lysander came up to me and sat down. What is with him and claiming other people's spots?
"Hey."
"What?" I asked rather rudely.
"Good afternoon to you too!" He grinned.
I rolled my eyes.
"Let me ask you a did you know question." I stayed silent, so he went on, "Did you know that Youtube, Twitter, and Facebook will all combine one day and become YouTwitFace?"
"Lucky for me, I don't have any of them so it doesn't really matter to me," I told him.
"I don't care." Me neither.
I sighed and walked away. Again.
Remember when people had diaries and got mad when someone read them? Now they put everything online and get mad when people don't read them. They put it all on You. Twit. Or Face.
Seriously, the logic of life is really, really, weird. That's why I don't want to get caught up in it.
Lunch the next day was even weirder.
Lysander plopped onto the chair across from me (again).
"Again?" I asked.
"Nice to see you!" He said sarcastically.
"Tell me something I don't know." I fought back a smile.
"You don't have a brain." He said.
"You sure? I'm pretty sure it's YOU that doesn't have a brain."
"Nah. You're wrong. No way I have no brain!" He argued.
"Did you know that homework stands for half of my energy wasted on random knowledge? And did you know math stands for mental abuse to humans?" He said in a completely different mood he was about three seconds ago.
"If I knew everything in the world I wouldn't be at a high school learning Calculus and other stuff!" He had to make things so obvious.
"I'm just here so I can leave later." He said bluntly.
"If robbers ever broke into my house looking for money, I'd laugh and look with them."
"And that's stage one of the three stages of life I told you about yesterday!"
"What does that have to do with being broke?" I asked.
"Nothing..." He trailed off.
"Exactly." I grinned.
"What can I say? I'm a multitasker! I can annoy you, eat lunch, and irritate you all at the same time." THAT I have to agree with.
His friends (I know it's hard for you to believe that he has friends, but apparently he does) waved him over, so he quickly said goodbye and left before I could insult him anymore.
It was fun, though.
This boy was crazy.
But I kinda liked crazy.
______
How was this first chapter?
Don't forget to comment and vote if you liked this chapter!
Thanks to coopermichno0823 for helping me write this. Follow her and have a nice day!
Somerandomhuman88