This is a collection of oneshots or chapters of stories(usually the first ones) that never got finished or were deemed unacceptable. This is mainly a thing for me to look back on, and if I get stuck, take a chapter and actually use it. Like this one. It will probably start something sooner or later.
If you want a story out of this, because I originally had a plotline(sorta), encourage me with reviews! :D
This was going to be the beginning of a story. Unfinished. Started it on 9-3-10.
I'd always been a hopeless romantic, blunt, to the point, and just a little bit violent. I wasn't competitive, nor do I get angered easily, but if you managed to get under my skin, well... Let's just say your wrist would never be the same.
That's exactly what my parents were like, but much worse. I could get under their skin all the time, so I was hit multiple times throughout the years. I'm thirteen now, blunt as ever and still reading my romance novels. It's girly, I admit, and I'm more than a little ashamed for considering I Love Lucy as one of my 'shows'. I supposed Wammy's wouldn't have too many TVs for it, but I guess I'll deal with my small collection of favorite novels.
Mr. Wammy was talking about something. I was paying attention, but it's so unimportant I didn't bother taking much in. If it sounded useful, I took it into account- if it didn't, I forgot about it. Right now he was saying something about my roommate.
"Your roommate, Mello, is second here at Wammy's and very competitive," he said. I nodded a little, a sign for him to go on. I'm not competitive, so that's good. "He has a bit of a temper on him, so be cautious." At this, I had to use all my might to not outright laugh.
"Classes start on Mon-," he started, but I cut him off.
"I'd like private teaching, if that's okay," I interrupted.
Mr. Wammy nodded. "Of course. I'll notify you when we can get a professor to teach you all your subjects. If you take private schooling, however, you'll start classes later and end earlier, so you won't have as many classes as the other children; therefore, your risk is that your overall average will go down."
I only shrugged at this. He continued talking.
"You can only have two electives rather than three like the other children. Your test scores will be posted with the other children's scores in the main room. Every month, the list of top kids is updated. I suggest you look at them often and do your best."
I shrugged again, happy that I wouldn't have as many classes. I wonder if any other kids have private teaching. I didn't voice this inquiry, though.
Soon, we stopped at a door in the long hallway we had been walking through. It was wooden with the numbers two and three on it, two being farther left(my left, anyways) and the three being farther right. I looked to my left and saw a door with number sixteen and seventeen on it, the latter being on the right like the three. I wondered why the numbers were so random.
Wammy said that this was the last room that was free of a roommate and that the orphanage didn't have too many kids nor too many new arrivals. He warned me again of my roommates temper and left me with a, "Welcome to Wammy's House for Genii," and a smile. I sighed and opened the door.
The room was rather plain; hardwood floors, white walls(covered with papers, drawings, and posters on one side while the other side was blank), a desk, two beds with wardrobes to match, and not much else besides textbooks and a neatly stacked pile of dark chocolate bars of varying brands.
One side was completely blank, free of life and still. The other, however, was unruly and cluttered. My fingers twitched with annoyance. Most people don't think it when they see me, but I'm a neat freak. Because, ya know, organized people are just too lazy to get up and look for stuff. And I'm lazy as hell.
