So I wrote the story 'Just in my Head' awhile ago, but as I was reading through it I thought that maybe I should rewrite it a little. So here is a new perception on the story. Again, if you read the last story, I have changed the name of the girls, because I believe they don't keep their names when they become teenagers.
Bubbles-Brooke
Buttercup-Blaire
Blossom-Bridget
I sat in the back of my Integrated Algebra classroom and simply observed. My mind wandered between different subjects, but my eyes always found the back of Blaire's head, staring blankly. I hated math, it was so definite. There was no room for anyone to be creative. 2 + 2 would always equal 4; it would never equal 8 or 23. Blaire's head bobbed lightly to the music she was listening to. I never understood it. Ms. Patterson would have a riot because I zoned out for a couple seconds, while Blaire never paid attention. She was always listening to music. But she can answer every question Patterson throws at her. I remind myself. A sigh escapes my lips as I sway slowly to her bobbing head. Hmm...well if I'm going to zone out...Townsville has been relatively quiet the past few weeks. Statistically, wouldn't that mean something's going to happen.
"Brooke, are you willing yourself to join the class? Or shall we just deem you hopeless?" I cringed. I hated her voice, it was so—I couldn't even describe it. No wonder I always tried to zone it out. Ms. Patterson glared down at me. She could have been very beautiful, if it weren't for the permanent sneer marks etched on her face and the resonating heat of pure hatred every time she looked at me. That can put a damper on someone's looks. If only I could stand up for myself. I lowered my eyes dejectedly. She made it her life mission to humiliate me, what teacher does that? I save her ass, like, three times a week.
Ms. Patterson turned away from me, and addressed the class. "Now that Brooke has decided to join the class, I'd like to inform you that we will be receiving three new transfer students. They have come a long way, and we should treat them with the respect we treat each other with." I huffed, was she going to single them out too? I gave Bridget, my other sister, Blaire being the other, a wary side glance. She didn't return it. I hadn't expected her too; she was too busy jotting down every word Ms. Patterson said. She did realize it wasn't math related?
A knock came from the closed door and Ms. Patterson hurried to the door, his soft brown hair bouncing as she did so. From behind she looked like she could be a nice lady, how deceiving. When she opened the door three boys entered in an eerily uniform line, one right after the other. Normally, this wouldn't be as odd as I make it sound, but it was in the heart of the moment. I had to check to make sure my heart was where it was supposed to be, because I felt like I might just puke it up. It couldn't be them? They had been gone for a little over 10 years. No, the Jojo brothers couldn't be back, it couldn't be the Rowdyruff Brothers.
Beside me, Bridget's pencil stopped scratching abruptly. That can't be a good sign. My inner voice chided. When Bridget pulled herself out of her notes, it had to be important. I chanced a glance at my redheaded sister, but immediately regretted the decision. An icy air surrounded her, and I was being serious, there was literally frost curling around her seat. Even through her tightly pursed lips I could see the wisps of frosty breath curling in the air. That had definitely answered my question. I casted my gaze back to the front of the room, desperate to try and ignore the cracking of Blaire's knuckles.
The boys didn't seem like they noticed us, or at least not right out malicious "I'm-going-to-kill-you" intent. But I was certain they were just giving us a front, it would be any second now. Then they would attack. But as I watched, they simply listened to Ms. Patterson explain the rules of her classroom. The rest of the class had gone into their own little conversations, but I just watched. They didn't flinch.
Brick stood slightly ahead of the other two boys, still the definite leader of the group. He listened attentively, only moving every one and awhile to nod in response to whatever Ms. Patterson was saying. He was shorter than his other two brothers, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. I could see it in his eyes, bright red, and reradiating the power and persuasion he always possessed. He still looked like the type of asset you wanted on your side if you didn't want to end up with a knife shoved in your back.
Butch really didn't look all that much different. He wore a green soccer jersey, similar to the one Blaire was wearing, which I was certain wasn't blowing over well with her. His body still vibrated with the anticipation, always the one who needed action. But even he didn't give off anymore malicious intent, or at least no more than your average trouble maker. Strange.
But it was Boomer who caught me off-guard. He was the tallest, with a lithe frame, the frame of a track runner. His sandy blonde hair fell just in front of his pale blue eyes. It wasn't so much his look that surprised me; he looked like me, as he should. What really surprised me was the pile of books he had cradled in the nook of his arm. Boomer was dumb as a board. That much was definite about him. They had to be for show. He was never intelligent.
What the hell were they doing here? Don't they have anything better—never mind they were created to make our life living hell. "You may sit next to Brooke, in the back of the room." Ms. Patterson's voice yanked me from my thoughts. I didn't want to know who she was addressing. I didn't want to sit next to whoever she was addressing. I just hope the feeling was mutual. I doubt that, my head voice muttered. I quickly pulled out my textbook and cowered behind its pages. Yeah, maybe if you look busy whoever it is won't—
"Is it helpful to read the textbook upside down, I've never tried it." I cringed and focused my eyes on the upside down equations of the crumpled pages. Damn it. The desk next to me creaked as someone sat down. I could have sworn I saw the flash of blue in the corner of my eye. Double damn it. I set the textbook down as slowly and as calmly as I could muster. My hands shook the entire time. "You okay there, Bubbles?" He asked curiously. A prickling numbness fell over my body. I hadn't heard that name in years. No one called me 'Bubbles', I was Brooke, just plain Brooke.
"Fine," I answered sharply, quickly flipping my textbook the correct way. The air seemed to tense, slowly smothering me, now I remember what it feels like.
"So...what are we learning about?" Boomer started again. He was just tightening the air, but he didn't stop there. He leaned across the aisle to peer at my textbook. I shied away from him and instead pushed the book closer to him. "The teacher says we're supposed to share for today." Great. Even better. I shoved the book so the it was at the farthest edge of my desk and turned back defiantly to my notebook. So I would just have to burn my book when I got home. Whatever. Blaire and Bridget each had one.
My gaze wandered to Bridget, who had been so lucky as to be the contender of Brick. Her desktop was laced with a web-like design of frost, but she didn't pay any mind. She had buried herself so deep in her notes that I was afraid she'd never resurface. And knowing her, that was very likely. She appeared completely at ease, save for the ice that encased her desk. Brick didn't even look at her or take note to her existence. He too was taking notes as Ms. Patterson continued the lesson.
Blaire, on the other hand, still cracked her knuckles under her desk. It had always been a bad habit of hers, but through the years it got progressively worse. Metal blasted through her ear buds that now hung around her neck, but she didn't notice. She was far too busy casting Butch malicious glares. Said Rowdy didn't even notice though, he was too busy flirting with the girl who sat in front of him. Why couldn't I be more dismissive like Bridget or more assertive like Blaire? Why did I have to be me?
"So, why are you 'Brooke' now, Bubbles?" Boomer asked slowly. He really didn't give up did he? Why did I have to share DNA with the chattiest Rowdy?
"Because, bubbles are a child's toy made of soap and water. 'Bubbles' is not a girl's name. It is undermining to a sixteen year old girl." I mumbled, mostly to myself, though I suppose Boomer heard it too. This was going to be a pretty torturous class if I had to deal with this every day.
"Alright, I think you don't want to talk to me. So I'll just leave you alone." Boomer noted with an uncomfortable laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, he shuffled his books and took my textbook onto his desk. Yeah, definitely burning it. "I mean, I don't blame you. My brothers and I weren't exactly the nicest to you guys." Ah there's the simple minded Boomer you remember. Really? They weren't the nicest? I smirked into my notebook. "But I can promise you, we're not like that anymore."
I started back him, my already shaky exterior breaking entirely. "What?" I asked skeptically. Boomer smirked in response. Great, you gave him attention, idiot. "I mean—" I cut in quickly as I angled myself away from him. You can't answer him if you drown yourself in math, let's see what's number one. I froze and chanced a glance at the textbook Boomer had on his desk. My textbook. Alright, scratch that plan. Let's just doodle. Why couldn't I be more like my sisters? They didn't seem phased by the boys and the boys didn't seem to be bothering them. It must be something I'm doing wrong. Am I too inviting? Well, I'd just have to avoid them then. I was not going to be the weak link this time. No not this time.