I am so frigging tired of having to do this. Every day I have to deal with these people. They are so annoying. They're always cheating off me and using me. I'm sick of it, they can just shove it for all I care. "Anna?" Wonderful. I turn and see it's Lee. I guess she's okay. Not too bad looking at all, I tilt my head to study her more.
"What?" My voice sounding more and more feminine all the time. Black painted fingernails curl around my literature book.
"I was wondering if you had a date for the dance?" Her voice is shaky, I wonder what her deal is. As I watch the little half-oriental half-Indian girl in front of me I think I'm realizing what's making her uncomfortable.
"No, why? I wasn't really planning on going."
"Oh," She pauses and leans forward to whisper something to me, "I just thought you should know, the girls are talking." She glances over her shoulder at a group of girls giggling and glaring then scurries off down the hall.
My jaw drops. I am utterly shocked…and pissed. They have no right. My headvoice tunes in. I march up to the girls. "What? You think you're so 'Anti-Rainbow'? Les-bee can't go piss by herself, much less use her own dildo!" I spit angrily at the girls and storm off to literature. Les-bee, actually known as Leslie, the girl I was talking about seriously can't go pee by herself. She always goes in a stall with another one of the girls, but I try to not know her name. My lit teacher, Mr. Brannon, lectures us today, on how we should and shouldn't act. Maybe he saw my little show out in the hall? Ehh. who cares? It's just Mr. B, he can get over it. Ahh, time for a nice nap. My head hits the book and I'm out until final bell.
I wake to a puddle of drool on my literature book, I pick it up and wipe the slobber on a fat kid who always ends up sitting next to me. Let's call him, Hamburger-Boy.
Note to self: Find out Hamburger-Boy's name before you actually call him that.
Okay, off to the car. I throw some junk into my locker on the way to my car, mostly just notes and gum wrappers in there, along with a few good books. Some poetry, others books for school. And now my lit book. No sign of the Giggling-'Straight'-Baboons. I end up digging through my purse for about twenty minutes before finding my keys. I, with some help from a Senior football player, wrench open the door to my truck. Good-Ol'-Blue. Gotta love 'em old trucks. On the way home I indulge my sense in a Marlboro or two…possibly three. Bad habit. Picked it up from my brother, what can I say? Love the kid, but he's going to end up giving me cancer! Oh well, I'm still young, time to die later. I have to live right now. When I get home there's note stuck to the front door: Try not to be late tomorrow and you'll get a phone call.
"What the..?" My sentence trails off as I read it, I shrug it off as some bogus hoax seeing as it's near V-Day. My least favorite holiday of them all. Which sucks cause the few friends I do have: Lee, Jessica, Ape. (for April), and Summer and all raving about how they beaus are sneaking them out up to The Point for some rowdy fun after a dinner of their choice of course. I could care less, well, that's what I let everyone else think. Besides, they all have the impression I'm a Lez anyways. So far as I'm concerned, they can shove it so far up a certain part of the body they can puke it out their eye balls.