Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix or anything related to it, much as I want to. Amie and any other characters, unless otherwise stated, are mine.
~*~*~*~*~*
"Do you understand why you are here, Amie?" The teacher leaned back in his chair, long fingers gently massaging his temples.
"Sure I do." The girl in front of him shrugged, her arms folded defiantly. At his raised eyebrow, she sighed and rephrased her answer. "Yes I do, Mr Drake, sir." She glanced down to the pile of papers on his desk before taking a seat, staring at the ageing head teacher.
"Then you will also understand that this cannot continue." He stirred the papers with one hand, picking up one handwritten note. To Amie's suspicious eyes it looked like trouble - a detention note, to be exact. She sighed again.
"What can't?"
Her teacher slammed his hand down on the desk, the force of his action taking her by surprise. "Nothing can continue! Your continued insolence, your disobedience, your fighting, it must stop. Do you hear me?" He glared at her, the small skinny eleven year old. Her spirits sinking, she glared back, green eyes narrowed ferociously. He motioned to the note again.
"Look at this, it was sent to me after second period today. Do you realise that this is your eighth detention this week?" She nodded miserably, and he continued, starting to read aloud. " 'Pupil details: Amie Brook, 9G, Art. Reason for detention: Misbehaviour and unsocial behaviour. Details: Amie was found in a heated argument with a fellow student before the lesson. She refused to settle once inside the classroom, throwing paintbrushes and erasers around the room. Halfway through the lesson, having been seated away from her classmates, she became engaged in a violent fight. She was then removed from the class and sent to a senior member of staff. Signed: Mrs Morgan.' Do you have anything to say?"
Amie shook her head despondently. He won't believe the truth... she thought, looking up to meet his eyes. "I was provoked," she crossed her fingers under the desk, hoping that he would believe her excuse. He didn't, frowning at her.
"You were the one fighting. Why did you let yourself be provoked?"
"Because... I just did. It wasn't my fault, honestly." Nervously, she pulled down the sleeves of her scruffy school jumper, her eyes widening innocently. "Mrs Morgan doesn't like me - she's the one that's given three of the eight detentions this week."
Mr Drake groaned, grey eyes flickering in defeat. "Of course she likes you. Mrs Morgan is a competent, fair woman - she doesn't judge students. But if you continue to cause trouble in her classes-" He was cut off.
"I won't! I'll stop! Well, I'll try. Honestly." She looked suddenly anxious, fidgeting in the hard plastic chair. He nodded.
"Very well. Go back to your class for the last few minutes - Music, wasn't it?"
Without waiting to answer, her indifferent demeanour returned, Amie fled. Her teacher sighed and settled in his chair, watching the redhead leave his study. The meeting had been a complete waste of both of their time that was clear - he had achieved nothing. What is wrong with her?
~*~*~*~*
"What is wrong with you?" The angry shriek pained Amie, causing her to press closer against the kitchen wall. The wrath of her furious mother bore down on her. "Day after day, detention after detention! Why do you keep getting them? What do you do for six hours a day, when I pay for you to be learning?"
Her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, Amie closed her eyes, feeling the fresh bruise rising under her top. It always happened like this, every day. However much she reasoned with her mother, the hot-tempered Irishwoman always exploded upon finding the detentions. A row always ensued, cultivating in smashed glass and fresh purple bruises on Amie's pale skin.
"Mum-"
"Don't you 'mum' me, girl! You have too much detention! Why are you not learning at that school! I pay for you to learn, not to get detention!"
The glass smashed against the wall above Amie's head, tiny pieces of glass and plaster trickling down over her shoulders.
"Mum, don't. Please." She closed her eyes, silent tears beginning to run down her pale cheeks. Her mother glared.
"You get no sympathy from me, Maeve!"
"Don't call me that," Amie hissed, pushing past her mother forcefully. "My name is Amie! It's bad enough that... that is my name at all, without you using it. Just... leave me alone!" Running up the stairs, she slammed her bedroom door and settled down at the computer, logging onto the Internet.
Her practised fingers clicked the way onto her usual chat board, signing in as Shadow. Scanning the long list of messages available, she sighed and reached for her stereo controls, starting to type as the music began.
'I'm looking for Talon...'
~*~*~*
A/N: My first fanfic. Please R&R, especially as I'm not too sure what I'm doing! Hope you like ^.~
~*~*~*~*~*
"Do you understand why you are here, Amie?" The teacher leaned back in his chair, long fingers gently massaging his temples.
"Sure I do." The girl in front of him shrugged, her arms folded defiantly. At his raised eyebrow, she sighed and rephrased her answer. "Yes I do, Mr Drake, sir." She glanced down to the pile of papers on his desk before taking a seat, staring at the ageing head teacher.
"Then you will also understand that this cannot continue." He stirred the papers with one hand, picking up one handwritten note. To Amie's suspicious eyes it looked like trouble - a detention note, to be exact. She sighed again.
"What can't?"
Her teacher slammed his hand down on the desk, the force of his action taking her by surprise. "Nothing can continue! Your continued insolence, your disobedience, your fighting, it must stop. Do you hear me?" He glared at her, the small skinny eleven year old. Her spirits sinking, she glared back, green eyes narrowed ferociously. He motioned to the note again.
"Look at this, it was sent to me after second period today. Do you realise that this is your eighth detention this week?" She nodded miserably, and he continued, starting to read aloud. " 'Pupil details: Amie Brook, 9G, Art. Reason for detention: Misbehaviour and unsocial behaviour. Details: Amie was found in a heated argument with a fellow student before the lesson. She refused to settle once inside the classroom, throwing paintbrushes and erasers around the room. Halfway through the lesson, having been seated away from her classmates, she became engaged in a violent fight. She was then removed from the class and sent to a senior member of staff. Signed: Mrs Morgan.' Do you have anything to say?"
Amie shook her head despondently. He won't believe the truth... she thought, looking up to meet his eyes. "I was provoked," she crossed her fingers under the desk, hoping that he would believe her excuse. He didn't, frowning at her.
"You were the one fighting. Why did you let yourself be provoked?"
"Because... I just did. It wasn't my fault, honestly." Nervously, she pulled down the sleeves of her scruffy school jumper, her eyes widening innocently. "Mrs Morgan doesn't like me - she's the one that's given three of the eight detentions this week."
Mr Drake groaned, grey eyes flickering in defeat. "Of course she likes you. Mrs Morgan is a competent, fair woman - she doesn't judge students. But if you continue to cause trouble in her classes-" He was cut off.
"I won't! I'll stop! Well, I'll try. Honestly." She looked suddenly anxious, fidgeting in the hard plastic chair. He nodded.
"Very well. Go back to your class for the last few minutes - Music, wasn't it?"
Without waiting to answer, her indifferent demeanour returned, Amie fled. Her teacher sighed and settled in his chair, watching the redhead leave his study. The meeting had been a complete waste of both of their time that was clear - he had achieved nothing. What is wrong with her?
~*~*~*~*
"What is wrong with you?" The angry shriek pained Amie, causing her to press closer against the kitchen wall. The wrath of her furious mother bore down on her. "Day after day, detention after detention! Why do you keep getting them? What do you do for six hours a day, when I pay for you to be learning?"
Her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, Amie closed her eyes, feeling the fresh bruise rising under her top. It always happened like this, every day. However much she reasoned with her mother, the hot-tempered Irishwoman always exploded upon finding the detentions. A row always ensued, cultivating in smashed glass and fresh purple bruises on Amie's pale skin.
"Mum-"
"Don't you 'mum' me, girl! You have too much detention! Why are you not learning at that school! I pay for you to learn, not to get detention!"
The glass smashed against the wall above Amie's head, tiny pieces of glass and plaster trickling down over her shoulders.
"Mum, don't. Please." She closed her eyes, silent tears beginning to run down her pale cheeks. Her mother glared.
"You get no sympathy from me, Maeve!"
"Don't call me that," Amie hissed, pushing past her mother forcefully. "My name is Amie! It's bad enough that... that is my name at all, without you using it. Just... leave me alone!" Running up the stairs, she slammed her bedroom door and settled down at the computer, logging onto the Internet.
Her practised fingers clicked the way onto her usual chat board, signing in as Shadow. Scanning the long list of messages available, she sighed and reached for her stereo controls, starting to type as the music began.
'I'm looking for Talon...'
~*~*~*
A/N: My first fanfic. Please R&R, especially as I'm not too sure what I'm doing! Hope you like ^.~