Perfection

If I could change one thing about our school, I would start by taking out that witch of a girl, Miranda. Most people say she's beautiful, smart, funny, rich, perfect. The head of the "popular" crowd, has all A's in class, and beauty to top it all off. And of course her parents are rich, and she is the youngest in a family who owns a top company. And as the youngest, her parents set no expectations for her.

Of course, I'm the total opposite. Sure I have a family who is better off then most, and my old boyfriend said I was cute. I maintain an average of B's and the occasional C in class. My straight black hair, opposed to her blonde curly hair. Her blue eyes, my green eyes. Her pale, flawless skin, my skin was almost on the verge of tan looking, with a few pimples on my forehead. But not only that, I was expected to be perfect. I am the eldest of five in my family, carrying the family name. Straight A's and such were supposed to be the norm.

The fact is, I really hate school. The "School for the Elite," they motto for the school, "Only the best get better." Being next in line to do my parents work, it was hard work, to say the least. My father was always busy, and didn't have times for all of his kids with his work. All five of his previous wives left him for that reason, after bearing a child. I meet my mom every third Saturday out of the month. I've practically raised the siblings that I have.

So I'm supposed to be juggling school, children, then all the academics I was supposed to master. All while being, "Peftect."

Obviously my definition of perfect, was far off the standards of any dictionary, or mind. I was supposed to be what people called, "Perfect." Though my perfect, was being myself. Not the stone faced six-teen year old, who had the beginning of wrinkles starting to show on her face. Not the girl who played "Mommy" every day after school. No, just the person inside who is trapped, wanting freed. To be a normal, even poor girl. Doesn't matter, just to have a loving mother and father. Maybe being the eldest of two. Getting a job, finding a handsome husband. Maybe that was just in fairytales, though.
I shook my head as the bell rang, closing up the diary that had not been written in. My brow furrowed, as I watched the other kids file out. How long had I been sitting there, dazed? I sigh, shoving the diary, pencils, and notebooks with nothing but doodles in them into my bag. I shoulder the backpack, and was one of the last to walk out of the room.
I checked my watch, and noticed it was almost two. Only a single class left, I thought to myself. Yet I couldn't get a little excited at the fact that last period was math. My favorite, and best subject.

I walk over to my locker, and twist the knob, getting the correct combination on the first try. Grinning to myself, I let the door swing open, and I pile multiple books into the locker, and pull out the math books I had, along with the notebook that had no doodles in it; math was the one hour that I didn't draw, it was all listen.
Shutting the door, I listen to all the chatter around me, picking up on a few snitches of conversation. I pull my hair up into a sloppy ponytail, using a worn green hair band. I pull down my tight orange shirt, and made sure my faded skinny jeans still looked decent. Looking down at my brand new converse, I sigh. Most people would think that I am better off then most.

"Yo! Claire!"

I heard my name being shouted from the other side of the hallway, and I look up, trying to find the person who called me by my real name.
Suddenly a rather heavy-set boy, with short, black spiked hair is panting in front of me. His extremely pale skin, and had almost ever inch of it covered. Headphones hung around his neck, blaring music he wasn't even paying attention to. He finally started to catch his breath, and he looked up. Freckles were all over his cheeks, which were flushed red from the run. Beautiful chocolate brown eyes sat a little too close together on his face, with a short forehead.

"Yes, Seth?" I say, slightly aggravated.

I had known Seth since we were both in diapers. His parents at one point and time had formed an alliance with my family. After his father died, and his mother picked up the work, the company went downhill, and my father was forced to terminate the agreement immediately, to avoid misfortune. My father and Seth's mother hate each other now, yet we try to keep the forbidden friendship up. How far that will go on, no one knows.

"Look!" He said, flashing a paper with a big red A+ on the top of the paper. My eyes couldn't help but widen with shock.

"And I got it in english too!" He said, excitement in his voice.

I sat there, silent for a moment. English was always both of our least favorite subjects. It was one we both always barely passed.

"English? You've got to be joking! Your mom hired some tutor, didn't she?" I say, ripping the paper out of his hands, trying to see if it was his handwriting.

"No. It's just took a few hours. No biggie," he said, looking away, rubbing his fingernails on his jeans, and blowing on them, trying to act cool.

I roll my eyes, handing him his paper back, just as the warning bell rang. I started walking, and he jumped back to my side, talking nonsense. We shared last period together, so he always followed me around. I lost interest in what he was saying, and tuned him out as we opened the door to the classroom.

Walking to the back of the classroom, I sat in the chair in the very back, to the left. You almost couldn't see it, as it was completely covered in shadow. Seth continued to prattle on, as he sat in his desk. I sat my backpack down to the left of my chair, and slid into the seat with one fluid motion.
The bell rang once more, and the teacher walked in. I grinned inwardly, as only half of the class was full. And the seats empty were of those that I didn't like; it was a group of boys who whispered the entire class. Seth finally shut up, and I opened and layed all my books out quietly.

Then the teacher started talking. Don't get me wrong, I love math. But I hate this teacher. With his bald head, a fake black toupee sat always slightly tilting on his head. He had a huge nose, which curved slightly on the end, that almost looked like a beak of a bird. He was always slightly pink, and wrinkles were on his forehead. He was at least in his forties, maybe fifties. But the worst thing, was his voice. It was very monotone, and seemed to just rankle on through the entire lesson. Irritating, to say the least.
Yet, I grin, and start writing down every word I could catch of that annoying monotone voice, and made sure I was writing very clearly. By the time I read it a few times, the paper would always crinkle, and it was harder to read with sloppy writing. I always kept my math notes, as well.

The teacher finally announced that everyone should do some practice problems, so I took out my book and the problems for the third time today. I smile, finishing way before any other kid in the class, and leaned back in the chair, slouching a bit. Now just to wait until he started to talk again, I thought, and closed my eyes, falling asleep immediately.

Impressum

Texte: All words and text is created by Ichigo, (Moonmommy5). So do not redistribute.
Bildmaterialien: All photos go to their rightful owners.
Lektorat: Paperrater.com
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 28.02.2012

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