I Have a Soul
Okay so recently I have though, Wow, Jazz is a ginger! Then I had another thought, A lot of people make fun of gingers. Then another idea struck me, so now we are hear.
Thanks to my beta Jaded Jimmie Productions.
Disclaimer: I own Nothing.
*O*O*O*O*
"Hey...Hey Jazz." her verbal abused let out an obnoxious laugh, "What do gingers look forward to later in life?"
Silence. Jazz bites her lower lip, nearly drawing blood.
"Grey hair... get it, because gingers hate themselves"
More giggles erupt before the entire class has joined in. Their laughter is like acid to her ears. The laugter burned her ears and eyes as she tried to concel her tears.
"I got a good one! I got a good one. What's the difference between a dead possum and a dead ginger?"
This person is too excited to pause so the joke can set up.
"The dead possum was probably on his way to see friends."
More acidic laughs fill her ear drums. It is suffocating. To them this is a joke, for her it is hell. An inescapable hell.
Jazz woke up cold sweat dripping down her back. Remember what the councilor said. Jazz though searching her brain for the memory of that day.
FOUR YEARS AGO...
"What is the difference between a shoe and Jazz?" A boy with dirty blonde hair asked as his green eyes turned a shade darker. As if he knew, that this joke was going to destroy her. "The shoe has a soul."
More laughter, Jazz's eye started twitching before she snapped. She was tired of it all! Tired of crying, tired of being nice, tired of being treated so poorly.
"THAT IS IT. I'M SICK OF THIS PHYSIOLOGICAL WARFARE. I'M DONE. I HAVE A SOUL. I HAVE A SOUL. I HAVE A SOUL...I-I-I have a soul." She finished a sob releasing as she plowed her fists into the little boys face and chest.
"Jasmine Fenton. Office now." Her home room teacher said. She didn't move though, she didn't even look up.
"What's the point. No matter how hard I try, they aren't going to stop. You turn a blind eye to all of this, until it get's physical. I could be the nicest, smartest, most beautiful person in the world, and in the end it wouldn't matter. Because to these dimwits all I am is a GINGER! THAT'S ALL I'VE EVER BEEN. Just some joke that doesn't get old." Jazz spat grabbing her green earth science book.
As she proceeded to exit the room she heard the voice on the phone. "...yes...I just sent her down...thank you." A click of the door signaled she was alone.
She walked down the bland colored hallways. Everything blurred. She took the longest way possible, taking her time, dreading what lie ahead. She eventually reached the door of the office. As a new wave of fear coated her profile. She saw secretary and gave her an empty smile. She had graying hair that curled at the bottom, barely touching her shoulders.
"Mr. Dainer will be right with you." She said leaving the office papers in hand.
"Mr. Dainer?"
"He is the school social worker."
Jazz simply nodded. Dreading the encounter even more.
"Jasmine Fenton?" called a short male in his mid-forties. He had a full head of brown hair and brown emotionless eyes.
"It's Jazz."
"Jazz, in my office." Jazz followed lowering her self onto the seat. Dreading what was about to come. "Would you mind telling me what happened today, during science?"
"Your not going to believe me anyway. I was the one who made it physical. I used violence so I am in the wrong." She started "And it's not helping my case that I'm a ginger." She said under her breathe
"What did you just say?"
"Nothing"
"Tell me what you just said."
"No."
"Jasmine Fenton. Tell. Me. What. You. Just. Said."
"IT'S NOT HELPING MY CASE, BECAUSE I'M A GINGER. There you happy." She spat.
"That's what this is about?"
"Well, yeah. All those kids in my class make fun of me because I have red hair and freckles. I didn't want to take it anymore, so, I punched that kid in the face. He had it coming. But whatever what's my punishment." She said with a sigh.
"Jazz ,what would you like to be when you grow up?" Mr. Dainer asked.
"I want to be a lawyer, a psychologist, or a social service worker. I don't see what this has to do with anything though?"
"You want to make something of yourself that's good. Would you believe me if I told you I wrote the 'Chronicles of Daisy Light'?"
"You wrote the Chronicles of Daisy Light, the stories of a high school student that was bullied by day but saved the world by night as a vigilante?"
"I did. Would you believe me if I told you I had red hair, blue eyes, and freckles?"
"What? You can't do that, you can't change that."
"You can though. Every three months, I dye my hair brown and I have color contacts in right now. Don't tell anyone, but I'm wearing make up."
"I don't get it; you are super successful! Why would people care if your a red head or not?"
"They shouldn't. But like you I was bullied in high school because of the way I looked. So in college, I moved away and changed everything. I wish I would have had someone to tell me it didn't matter what I looked like. All that matter was my opinion, but I didn't know that. So, now every year I will go to drastic measures to change into someone that isn't me, because I was a stupid teenager. Jazz, you are just fine the way you are. You are going to be successful, there will always be people to try and tear you down. You need to be stronger that them." Mr. Dainer said turning his swivel chair around as Jazz sat dumbfounded. "Oh, and as for punishment. You will spend half of your lunch period every other day in my office talking to me until the end of the semester."
END FLASHBACK
Mr. Dainer may have not of knew it, but that faithful day; he turned her whole life around.
Well there you go. Don't forget to review.
-Scarlet Out.