Scene 1: That Kinda Morning
By: DropDeadThenDance
Late autumn, just a few stray leafs falling over head, with crisp, cold air nipping your nose and ears. It was beautiful despite that, and even when the trees had all lost those pretty colors and everything was starting to fade into every color brown imaginable. Yep, fall, one of the prettiest parts of the year that I was stuck wasting in school.
You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to run with leafs under your feet, piles of them along the street just taunting you, and not to mention how slick they were; one wrong move and you were on your ass for a good three minutes, at least, and I just couldn’t resist those piles. I’d run right through them, watching them fall back down over my head. They always fell in at a sort of slow-mo pace, distracting me from my feet, and then throwing me off balance.
If you’ve ever had to run with a thirty pound bag full of books and whatever else, you know what it’s like when you lose your balance.
I tripped at just the right moment, my sneaker flinging out from beneath me as I fell backwards. My ass hit the side walk first, hard enough that I felt it straight up to the base of my skull, and when my back finally connected with the offensive backpack I could feel my algebra book digging a new notch in my spine. “Ow,” I murmured, trying focus on something other than the pain.
First and foremost, I let my bag straps slide off my shoulders so I could roll onto my hands and knees. I sat up, balanced on my shins and stretched, my back popping unattractively. “That hurt, that hurt so bad,” I whined, stretching my hands out in front of me then, weakly, climbed back to my feet. Alright, no more fucking around here, you’re already late, I instructed myself briskly as I snatched up one of my backpack straps.
With bag in hand, I swung it around my shoulder with the intention of masterfully sliding my arm through the second loop, but as my hand passed through it I heard a very distinct sound. It was something like that sound you hear when you bend over in the mall, the sound of your bluejeans tearing right down your ass while you’re trapped in a store full of people you either go to school with or are total stranger you don’t want looking at your ass.
As I set the bag on my shoulders, I dreaded looking back, knowing that it wasn’t my pants that had ripped this time. “Fuck,” I murmured as I glanced between my knees, seeing my books piled pathetically on the ground. Yep, the bottom of my bag just ripped wide open. “God, I don’t need this right now!” I screamed as I tore the backpack off, throwing it on the ground, and then kicked my English book a good fifteen feet. “Fuck, why now?!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. “Second day of the fucking semester and already everything’s going to shit!”
I scooped up my algebra book, about to chuck it across the street and then storm home. I paused, however, glancing down at my torn backpack, and realized I was probably overreacting. “Agh,” I murmured as I dropped to my knees and scooped up the ruined bag. I flipped it over, dropping my books in it one after another, then went and retrieved my abused English book which now had some very interesting scraps across the back cover.
“Here’s to hoping,” I said, picking up the now upside down bag. I held it up for a moment, waiting for the zippers to fling open and puke my books up everywhere, but surprisingly they held relatively well. I fixed the pack on my shoulders again, the straps fitting awkwardly against my neck, but it worked and that was all that mattered. I started running again from there, ignoring the pain in my knees and shoulder blades.
By the time I actually made it up the school, it was already almost ten and I was very, very late. I had pretty much missed my first hour class entirely, which didn’t bother me so much because it was my foods class. I inched into the office through the open door, normally inviting if you were on time. “Mrs. Sanders?” I murmured as I moved towards the desk.
She was a lanky little thing, that Mrs. Sanders. Her frame was very slight, her silver hair lofty with a few strands always hanging down from the bun she wore. Her whole appearance was the textbook definition of World War II secretary, really; she had those thin, angled shoulders, thin arms, and when she walked, she walked like she meant business, as stupid as that might sound. I figured she had been really pretty when she was my age, but now she was the school secretary, and our school’s secretary didn’t take no shit.
“Morning Hannah,” she said as she glanced up from her computer screen, her glittery green eyes meeting mine for a brief moment, staring at me disapprovingly over the thin rims of her glasses. “I have a late pass ready for you,” she said as she pointed down the counter to where a thin red slip was sitting.
A sad, disappointed sigh escaped my lips as I dropped my hand on it, pulling the slip sluggishly towards my person. “Thanks Mrs. Sanders,” I murmured. She handed me a pen, one hand still on her keyboard, and I took it so I might fill out the reason I was late.
“Overslept?” she asked suddenly, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
I shook my head as I finished writing on my pass, pushing the pen towards her. “Oh no, I would be much happier if that were the reason,” I told her honestly then reached around and showed her my destroyed backpack. “Bottom ripped wide open while I was on my way here, freakin’ awesome way to start the day,” I said as I shook it back and forth for a bit for emphasis. I then slid it back onto my shoulders and gave Mrs. Sanders a pitiful little wave. “Bye now, I’m gonna try to be to Mrs. Warren’s class on time. Maybe she won’t rip out my soul then,” I said and she nodded to me, offering a sympathetic smile.
Half way through the door I paused and then looked back at her, remembering something. “Oh, by the way, is the new math teacher in yet? He wasn’t here yesterday,” I asked curiously, having wondered quite a bit about this year’s newest staff member. Most of the teachers that were here had been here since I was still in diapers, so new meat was a pretty big shocker to most of the kids in my grade and down, not to mention up.
I remember over the last week before school started there were tons of rumors about this guy circling around; some students were claiming he was a former cop, dropped for getting too rough with some thugs. Then there was the one that he was a former marine, oh, and the gay stripper one. That was my favorite; a tragic tale of a guy who lost his stripper career because of some sexual harassment charges that fell through, so he changes his tune and decides to become a teacher.
Yeah, that’s very believable.
“I think so,” she said slowly, seeming to be contemplating the answer. “I suppose you’ll find out,” she traded up then shooed me off. “Alright, get going, you’re already late.”
“Yeah, okay. Have a good day, Mrs. Sanders,” I instructed, catching a wave in return as I baled from the office. From there, I jogged down the hall heading for Mrs. Warren’s room. She was the English teacher, and by far my least favorite. School started at eight thirty, my first class being Foods, than English, World History, a Study hall, Lunch, followed up with the mysterious Math class, Art, and then finally gym.
By the time I got to Mrs. Warrnen’s classroom, I could see through the long pane of glass next to her door that they were already very much underway. It crossed my mind to just go sit outside of Mr. Deno’s classroom and wait for World History, but I knew I’d probably get more shit from Mrs. Warrne if I skipped her class altogether.
With a brave face, I inched into the room, and the witch didn’t waste a heartbeat. “Well, if it isn’t our friend Hannah,” she said harshly and I cringed as her shrill voice pierced my eardrums. She was a heavier set woman with rounded features, bulky glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, and she always wore really tight shirts that made her neck look like a tree trunk. “Second day of the semester and your late. Bravo,” she chided as I walked up towards her desk.
“Yeah, about that,” I said as I flung my backpack around my shoulders, holding it up to allow my teacher to observe my ruined bag. “My pack ripped on my way here,” I explained as I watched her face, obviously irritated that I hadn’t replaced it prior to it ripping, because I obviously knew my backpack was a piece of shit. “Here’s my slip, I’ll find my seat,” I had to clench my fist to keep from flipping her off, or maybe punching her in the throat, but either way I managed to turn around and head towards my seat at the back of the class.
She didn’t even wait for me to get back to my seat before she started talking again, blowing off the fact I had no idea what was going on so far. Granted, she probably knew how little I cared. I dropped into my seat, leaned my chair back until it was balanced against the wall with my feet under the lip of the table, and chilled in the perfect in-school-recliner.
I dug around in my backpack while Mrs. Warren talked in search of my reading material. I was one for shorter mangas, twenty-five volumes or less whenever possible, and Rurouni Kenshin was just the sort of manga for me. A series about a rouge samurai, a former crazed killer gone awesome, though not too say he wasn’t awesome before. I opened my book and began to read, shutting out the school and everyone in it.
Eh, fuck the school. Bunch of idiots anyway.
Scene End
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Chapter notes:Hello hello hello!!
Again -_-
So, this is the story that goes with the picture on my bio page. I'll be leaving that up for another few days, but it'll come down once the fourth chapter is up, give or take...
Anyway, this story is about my character Hannah, whom I hope you will all enjoy!
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(4/6/13)