Looking back, I wasn't sure why I wanted the period to be over, but I did. My rather weird language arts teacher for the year kept raving onto the seniors of the daily news of the class.
"Beth is doing something, and so is Ben, and oh, look, everyone! Morning's looking at the clock." I turn away, embarrassed that I would be called out for doing such a thing.
"Why are you wearing a superhero shirt?" The King of The Three Musketeers asked, eyeing me curiously.
"Me?" I lookeed down at my outfit: black boots, jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt depicting the major characters of Justice League which was a bit too big on me. "Oh, right. It was Super Hero day at school. I didn't really have anything to wear... So I had to borrow my brother's shirt," I muttered the last bit to myself.
"I'm not into superheroes or anything. I'm actually quite mature for my age," our lead stated as to me and another cast member, the King, he climbed off from the heat ventilators. It was one of our first rehearsals. My parents had other places to be, so they dropped me off thirty minutes early leaving me with a bunch of boys in the cast. Except for them and the director, no one else was present.
It's extremely important to get along with all of your cast, to the best of your ability. The production goes on for about two months, and it would either be two months of ease or drama caused friction. I give a small grin, "Yeah, okay."
The two other boys present, Athos and Rochefort, stood over, gazing at the golden flag pole of the elementary school's cafeteria canteen. D'artagnan, the King, and I made our way over. I'm felt pretty confident about getting along with them at this point; we were a more older cast. Getting along would be cake.
"What are you doing?"
Athos stared at me. "Don't talk; we must all communicate in the ways of interpretive dancing." My brain goes off with a click of disbelief, but I do not argue. Immediately the five of us begin to act like noodles being twirled onto chopsticks and contorting our bodies with the weirdest angles possible until the girl playing the Bartender showed up, appearing scared and a bit amused as to what we're doing.
My friend Brynn was arguing ferociously with a junior as I passed by the set of ROTC lockers near my first period class. "Well, I'll let you know that this is my body guard," she sneers at the junior. She pulls me towards her locker and right to face the junior.
"Um, Brynn? I don't know what you're... I'm barely five foot... I don't know what to--"
"Oh yeah? Well, this is my body guard!" The junior pulls her friend to face me, a six foot tall guy wearing a light blue shirt. I look up at him, he looks down at me.
"Um," I say, after several seconds of passing confusion, "Hi."
A moment of awkward silence. "Hi."
In biology, everyone was told to take observations on the recent yeast bottle lab experiment that had unfolded several days back. My partner was absent (again), so I sat, prying to open up the container lids.
"Okay, the five sense." My notes were lined up in a messy fashion. I frivolously wrote down my observations. "Bottle number one opens up with a medium volume hiss lasting about four second. There is a rough light brown texture sticking to the bottom while the rest is all liquid in a darker shade.
"Smell... Hmm... It smells like," I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly, "sugar farts!" Satisfied, I happily jotted that down onto my notes.
My biology teacher gave me an incredulous look. "Sugar farts? Sugar farts? Do you know how ridiculous you sound? It's like that time when you thought a Labrador dog looked like a unicorn." I look away sheepishly. My red-headed friend who sat behind me, started to laugh extremely loud.
The Purple Crayon**, a Monologue
Me: "I... I broke your purple crayon! I'm sorry!"
Friend: *gasps* "Not the purple crayon!"
Me: "I said I'm sorry!"
Friend: "You could have broken the green crayon, or the blue crayon, but no, it had to be the purple one!"
Friend: "BECAUSE PURPLE IS MY FAVORITE COLOR!"
**That day, the two of us were acting very mature as we colored for a Greek urn project. Note the sarcasm there.
The first day of finals came about. I approached the library with a small folder in one hand and a quarter grasped onto another. The printer at my house was running low on ink once again.
My job was simple: I go into the library quietly, print out what I needed, pay the fee, then walk out. Like all "simple" plans, they have a tendency to backfire.
"This door won't open!" I knocked on the glass door and peered into the room. AP testing was going to begin in less then twenty minutes, but I had to appear in my first hour for my Algebra II final.
The librarian called out to me, "Turn and push the door!" At least, that's what I thought I heard
"Turn and push the door!"
"I am!" Both of my hands are on the door handle at this point, struggling to push the door open. A fit of cough erupted. I took out a cough drop from a small bag that I carried. I was feeling sore, tired, and grouchy from my cold. Why would a door have handles if all one needed to do was push it open! "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's locked!"
"No it's not. Turn and pull the door!"
I must have misheard her wrong the first several times, because after doing as she said, the door clicked open. My feet barged myself into the room. Except for one other person, a girl from my book competition team, the library was silent. "I feel really dumb," I told the librarian.
"Did you even read the handles? It said, 'Pull'!"
"... Umm.... No."
"That is such a cute little bird!" I said to myself. The summer season was always a great time of gardening and for wildlife to take a brief moment of refuge in the backyard. The bird faces outwards to our yard with his end sticking in.
"Wait a minute." I grabbed my camera and zoomed up onto the creature. "Is the bird pooping into our yard?"
By the time you will have read this, I will be gone over the next several weeks to go onto vacation at the other side of the planet. If you have been reading for quite some time now and know where I am from, you may now what my ethnicity is which may help you a bit. I've prepared myself for this trip to such an extend that when I come back, I will have amazing things to blog about.
Not to worry, though! I've planned several posts which will pop up over the course of the time, including two guest posts by the two who will moderate my blog when I am gone. Be nice to the two of them; after all, they will be watching over for a month!
My wifi at the place I am staying at is very much iffy, and at most, I will only be able to connect to the actual internet for about an hour-- which then I will be replying to small emails and keeping in touch with some people in the town that I live in. That means I won't be able to reply to comments.
In exchange for giving that up, I have set up an Instagram account which will hold recordings of what I am doing-- a little photo blog, if you will. It's located on the sidebar. No, it isn't my personal Instagram, but it's close enough for you to see what I am up to while I can't post much.
I'll be back around July 14th, up and running but exhausted from the flight. I will most definitely be glad to see you all (if you all work together and do some kind of surprise post party thingy for me when I'm home, I will faint of a heart attack) when I get back. Bye for now!