A/N: This is loosely based on the Spud series, only on the female side. This is for Teaspoon.
My Mistress: The Lunatic
My name is Cassie. Though most people know me now as Teaspoon. Why, you ask? My mistress is a lunatic.
I'm thirteen going on fourteen – I just stepped into the scary place known as High School. We lined up outside the hall – in alphabetical order of our schools. My school was perhaps the largest, seeing as it's not a farm school or a private school. Slowly, one by one, our names were called. We each had to take a walk across the stage – we were greeted by the Head boy and Head girl.
My hair was tied into 7 ponies – as it was requested. Slaving for the Matrics, or Seniors, isn't exactly a choice. We aren't allowed to look at them, or make eye-contact. That's because I'm not a member of the school officially yet – I am a Spanner.
I looked at the hall. Possibly 700 children older than me looked at me. The stage was set above them. Above them is a gallery – there the Matrics sit. The seventeen to eighteen year olds. Their placed higher than us for a reason. We are to remember our places – we are mere slaves.
The first few periods I'm sorted into one of eight or seven classes. I meet my register class teacher – and then the prefects show up to take us on a tour. Wherever the Matrics are – we look at our feet. They force us to hold hands and I'm suddenly glad I don't stand up front. For the person in front wears a helmet with a large banner.
We are the youngest, thus we are Spanners.
We are taught our Spanner song.
Oh, I want to go home, to my mommy,
The Matrics are mean, my tears they roll,
A Matric that today want to mess with me,
They may do so,
Because I am a Spannertjie.
To the tune of an old pop song. We are told to memorize this – as our Masters and Mistresses will surely force us to sing this.
At break we all go to Spannervalley. It a sort of grassy area surrounded by a rock pavilion next to the tennis fields. Above the rocky seats there are blue railings where the older grades stood. The Matrics are searching through us, picking their slaves.
I notice a brunette girl with glasses and a friend come my way. I looked at the floor. Everyone around me had a Master or a Mistress – only few of us that stood there didn't.
She and her friend stopped in front of me.
"Do you have a Matric?" Her friend asked. I shook my head, no. The girl with glasses smiled and left with her friend. A few steps further she turned around and stopped in front of me. I took my chance to look up.
"Look down." She ordered. I quickly did so. "You're mine. Your name is Teaspoon, and tomorrow you should have a toothbrush on a leash."
I frowned. Was she insane?
I nodded and followed her. She didn't say anything.
"Why am I a teaspoon?" I asked.
"It's been my decided Standard 6 name since last year." She answered nonchalantly. "Now, search for a singing grasspiece." I didn't move. "Come on!"
I sank to the grass and ran my fingers over the grass. Nothing. Like grass could sing. I'm certain I would never forget this. Searching for singing grass.
"Go bark at that tree." She motions to a nearby tree where some of the other Spanners are. I make my way over to the tree.
"Woof."
She glared at me.
"I said bark, not be a lazy cow."
She doesn't exactly sound kind.
She joined a boy and watched me bark at the tree. Urging me on from time to time. She and the boy were laughing at something. Was he her boyfriend? After a time it became evident that he wasn't. She smiled, laughed, but she didn't hang on to him.
After a while I meet her friend. The friend can't decide on a name for her Standard 6. He's a tall boy.
"Swim." My new Mistress said. I didn't understand until I saw my fellow Spanners. Sprawled on the grass, making swimming motions. I argued.
"Do it or go bark at the tree again." She said coldly.
"Thus far I'm hating you." I said. I felt her eyes on me.
"I don't really care, Teaspoon. I said swim."
"But…"
"What did you call it?" Her friend asked.
"She's Teaspoon." My Mistress answered.
"Now, Teaspoon, under that you write the word "Backchatter" is that clear?"
"Yes."
"Yes whom?"
"Yes, Mistress." We're forced to call every Matric Master or Mistress.
"Standard 6, fall in!" Another one of my Mistresses friends called. I lowered myself to the ground and swam with the other girls.
. . .
The next day I didn't have my toothbrush. My Mistress tells me to dress it for the next day, and I'm to bark at the tree again.
Somewhere she told me to search for a male rock, then a male piece of grass – and along the line I learn to like her. She smiled a lot. And I'm allowed to look her in the eye. She had green eyes.
When I didn't listen she sent me to her blonde friend, who was incredibly hard on all of us. I'm told to pretend I'm a frog. When I didn't jump lively, I'm ordered to sit on one of the rocky seats and chant the words: "Hard ass become soft ass…" Over and over again bumping my bottom into the rock.
The next day my bum was sore. I swore to listen. I even remembered the toothbrush. It's on a leash and wore a tiny dress. I called it Snuffles, though my Mistress called it Senor Tandeborsel. I'm not told to do anything. She once punished me by making me run around in circles, but that's about it.
Later she adopted my friend as slave and called her BUTTERKNIFE. I think somewhere there must be a Fork too. Butterknife has to haul a brick around whereas I have a toothbrush.
As we reach the end of the second week, she just stood with us and chatted. We are allowed to look at her. And I think she's pretty awesome. I once asked her to spell her name for me. And she did. She spelled it A-W-E-S-O-M-E. She's a riot. And she thought me silly for liking twilight. Or not silly, just young and naïve. She mentioned something about biologic impossibilties. When she told me her real name I thought she was kidding. She has perhaps one of the most unrealistic names I have ever heard.
One time she had me propose to a friend of hers. I had to kneel – and beg.
There's even a dance coming up – just for the Standard sixes. We each must have a date. I asked her about it, and she started to look the boys through. I showed her the one I liked – and she burst out laughing. She made her way over to his master and they talked – as it turned out he had a girlfriend. But she got me date anyways. The boy had to hold my feet and ask me. I didn't even like the boy – but she made me say yes.
Later I learned that the boy I liked was the boy I proposed to's brother – and that she had once upon a time had a day-long crush on him.
I get the boy's number, and a parents meeting I hold the boy I'm crushing on's hand. When my Insane Mistress heard, she gushed at the cuteness. I didn't even know someone as twisted as her could gush.
But she's awesome. When anyone tries to make us to anything, she tells them to go away, we're telling her jokes. Or sometimes we have to fan her – the South African sun is a dangerous thing.
Once her friend wished us luck; because our mistress is not known for a sense of humour. A dark sense of humour, yes, twisted in a way that she found most horror movies funny. She commented that most horror movie scenes with blood make her either thirsty or want to use the bathroom badly.
Yes – I think she's off her rocker. Mad. Crazy.
As I've said in the title. My mistress: the lunatic.
. . .
A/N: Incredibly random. But somewhat based on an actual event – hope you liked it, my dear Teaspoon.