Oh my god, how did I get myself into this situation? Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have cussed that teacher out last year, and maybe I shouldn't have busted the windows out of that car in the school parking lot, I probably shouldn't have stolen that ninth graders' iPod, and I could have definitely refrained from clamming that black chicks head into a desk at school today, but I didn't deserve "this". "This" had to be child abuse! "This" wasn't fair at all! "This" was me going to boarding school.
After today's little fiasco, mom had decided that she'd had enough of me. I didn't care that she was sending me away though. It's not like we even had that good of a relationship. Rather than the mother daughter relationship that my therapist thinks I desire, the only relationship that we had attained over the years was one similar to that of a convict and their parole officer. The only real thing I was mad about was that she was sending me to an all girl's school. I would never fit in at an all girl's school. I can't stand girls. They're all such bitches! That's why all of my friends are guys. They just get me more than those preppy skanks with sticks up their asses. Speaking of guy friends, what was I gonna do without my best friend Bryan? Was I ever going to see him again? He was the only reason that I didn't get into half the trouble that presented itself to me. How can everything be changing so quickly?
The next couple of days were dreadful. Between being expelled and being enrolled in a new school (which I'd have to live in I might add) things were getting pretty tense between Mom and I. Everything seemed to become a big argument, even if it was something small. By the time it was the day that I would leave for what I perceived to be my new hell hole of a school, I was almost too happy to leave…almost.
"Francis, are you ready." My mom yelled up the stairs.
"Unless you're talking about being ready to pimp slap your ass upside the head, no, no I'm not ready." I mumbled under my breath.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY FRANCIS!" God I swear. Sometimes I think that woman has supersonic hearing or something.
"Nothing, mom. And for the love of God, could you stop calling me Francis. You know I hate that." I really did.
"And call you what? Frankie, like your friends do? That's a boy's name. You acting like a boy is what got you into this mess in the first place."
I wouldn't say that I hate girls, but then again you wouldn't be far off. I blame my mother for my horrible relationships with females. And where I lived it's not like there were any female role models to fix that. Nope. All my role models are guys. Not that I'm not all for that girl power stuff, but my role models are all guys that I've seen on TV. My indirect mentor at this moment is Lil' Wayne. "Fuck bitches, get money", that's my motto. Well I can't say that there aren't a couple of females I look up to. I mean, I love Ke$ha. And don't get me started on Joan Jet.
To lighten the mood of this day which I had promptly and appropriately labeled, "Dooms Day", I blasted some My Chemical Romance on my stereo. Those guys always got me pumped. Even for shit that I didn't want to do. I walked over to my closet and pulled out the suitcase that my grandparents had bought for me last Christmas. It was hot pink and had flowers on it. "Blech". I unzipped the gaudy bag and began throwing all my essentials into it, while singing the words to the song that was playing.
"They wanna grip the cross,
Make cavities,
Adjust because it purely is a crime
We full-on freak the cops, that causality
And break the walls of cryogenic slime
She said come on, come on, kiss my battery,
Come on, come on, I'll be your android girl,
She said come on, come on, kiss my battery,
Come on, come on and fuck this-
"What the hell are you doing singing that garbage!" Mom yelled. I swear to God. Sometimes I think she's a ninja. I didn't even here her come in my room.
"It's not garbage, Mom."
"And aren't you supposed to be packing?"
"Any blind person can see that I'm finished." I said pointing to my perky pink suitcase.
"Your smart ass mouth is the reason I chose this school for you. Maybe they can teach you some manners. Anyways I came up here to tell you that your new school's bus is here to take you off of my hands.
I dragged my bag outside and saw the incredibly disgusting monster that I was supposed to ride in to my new school. There were three major things that upset me about this particular "bus". First off, the bus was full of preppy looking girls of all shapes, size, and color. This didn't bother me. What bothered me was the fact that they were all so bubbly and happy about going to this school. Did bitches really get excited over this type of shit? Secondly was the fact that the entire bus was my least favorite color in the world…hot pink…with flowers all over it. I then realized that Grandma and Grandpa had been in on this. The third worst thing was that the school's name was plastered on the side of the bus. It read, "Madame Charlotte's Charm School for Young Delinquent Females In Need of Direction". Firstly…WHAT THE FUCK! Secondly, why does the school name have to be super long? Why can't they just call it Madame Charlotte's School for Bad Girls? Better yet, why not call it Madame Charlotte's School for Bad Bitches. I smiled as this thought went through my head.