"Stupid freakin rich kids...can't do anything for them selves...think they'd have some art prodigies at that uppity school..." I kept mumbling under my breath until I realized I reached my destination. Taking several deep breaths I steeled my nerves for what was about to come. Oh calm your shit Eloisa, your going into a high school not being thrown to the wolves. I walked up the seemingly endless stairs and into the large oak doors, trying to ignore the whispers and stares of the kids along the way. They hated me and trust me when I said the feeling was mutual, but there was nothing I could do about them now so I just kept heading towards the back room.
"Okay I think that we all know our parts and such, now we're just waiting for Ms. Mancini so we can start the sets."
"Well what the hell is taking her so long, some of us have things to get to." I bristled immediately as the remnants of the conversation floated out the room towards me. I'm doing these pompous assholes a favor and they have the nerve to be so ungrateful? I had to take a couple more of those cleaning breaths before I opened the door to the expansive auditorium. About 30 heads turned towards the back where a loud noise made by the door announced my arrival. These people practically own the world with all the money they have, but they can't get a damn door that doesn't squeak? I grimaced inwardly as I walked down the slope leading to the stage. I didn't even bother looking at there faces when I walked straight up to the drama teacher. I knew exactly what I would see: curiosity, confusion, annoyance, and most of all probably anger. I wasn't lying when I said they hated me.
"Mr. Johnson I apologize for being late, there was traffic and the bus was at a standstill for at least thirty minutes." I plastered on a fake smile and move to stand next to him, facing the kids that were there.
"It's no problem Ms. Mancini, I understand completely. The important thing is that you're here now and we can start. Everyone this is Eloisa Mancini, she's one of the top students at Brooklyn's Institute of Design and will be helping us with some of the larger pieces of the set. I expect everyone to be courteous and help to make her feel welcome." I fought not to roll my eyes as I peeled off my trench coat and put it on the chair behind me. As if I could ever feel all warm and cozy in this hellhole. When I turned back around I saw everyone's eyes looking at me expectantly. What the fuck are they all staring at; I swear all these people have eye problems.
"Ms. Mancini, I asked if you would care to say a few words." Now it was my turn to stare at them as I searched for something to say.
"Damn I know Brooklyn schools are shit but didn't they teach you how to string a sentence together?" The room erupted in laughter while Mr. Johnson tried to regain control. My eyes were scanning the room for the jerk who was about to get my boot up his ass. A muscular tanned boy was in the middle of the stage taking high fives and pats on the back so I assumed I found my man. His back was turned to me so when I walked up to him he didn't notice me. I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around thinking I was one of the idiots praising him, his raised palm in midair waiting for my high five. I took a step back so he could see the smirk on my face and punched him right in the nose, leaving him sprawling on the floor.
"Yeah they taught me how to form sentences. They also taught me how to knock out cocky fucktards like you!"
