WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:Mentions of fanatic/zealous religious views, general discrimination based on nationality/religion/sexual orientation, mild lesbian desire, Heinkel's accent (it's rather hard to understand, I apologize...) and more German, but not nearly as much as in the first chapter.
Disclaimer can be found in the first chapter, as well as the warnings for the story as a whole.
As the sound of the bell died down, the teacher stood from where she had been seated. "Firstly, please pass forward your reports," the shapely blonde, student teacher spoke, as she made her way along the front row of desks. As she went, she collected the stack of reports from each column of desks. "Once everything has been collected, we will begin the test." When most of the students responded with groans of, 'Ms. Shirts, really?' she simply said that if they didn't want to write an analytical essay, they would stop complaining. Like magic, the murmured complaints were stopped, and the tests were handed out.
Quickly writing her name at the top of the test in the space provided, followed by the date and class number, Heinkel set to work. The format of the test was standard, really. It contained twenty-five multiple choice questions (five defining terms, ten fill-in-the-blank, and ten A, B, C, or D questions), ten short-essay answer questions (no less than one paragraph, no more than three), and three essay questions (no less than five paragraphs, more accepted). Two of the essay questions were mandatory; the third was extra credit. As the test was standard, the sapphire-eyed blonde used her standard test-taking method. She breezed through the multiple choice, and wrote furiously on the short-essay questions (her slightly scrawled cursive raced across the page like the frightened children fled Sodom and Gomorra).
Running out of time… A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed her thoughts. She had twenty minutes left. Refocusing on the test, she made sure her concentration wasn't broken for too long. As always tended to happen, when she was writing essays, a bit of her rather… Zealous views in religion were incorporated. She didn't notice this, of course, but it happened anyways. Finishing her essays – yes, all three of them, and all with at least seven paragraphs – she placed the pen down and worked at the kinks and cramps in her hands. Ambidextrous as she was, she had switched hands during the test, and so wouldn't be suffering from the debilitating states of pain her predominantly right- or left-handed classmates would. Where religious issues were concerned, however, there was another difference between her classmates. Mormons, the lot of them were, as were her family – and that was why she needed to defend her faith every hour of the day.
Heathens and heretics, all of them, a small part of her mind stipulated, and though she couldn't help agreeing, she would rather have saved her family than not. However, as she had been trying for years now with no result other than screaming fights, she had given them up for lost to a longer tenure in Purgatory than even her own would be. Her thoughts were broken by the bell, at which she stood and packed away her things. Placing binder and pencil case into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder, and then left the classroom without even so much as a backward glance. She had left her test on the desk; Ms. Shirts knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn't be personally handing it in, as she saw no need for that. Her work ended with the bell; if the student teacher didn't know her thoughts ran so by now, she had a good deal to learn about this teenager.
As she maneuvered the halls, she forced herself not to watch the other, skirt-clad girls as they sauntered past, chatting, giggling, and gossiping about some frippery or other. Beautiful, fickle-y transparent creatures they were, and though something within her yearned for them, she knew that to have one – any – of them would be the blackest sin she had yet to commit. Shoving the unneeded, tempting thoughts of those fey creatures from her mind, Heinkel slipped into her third hour class, Business and Computer Applications.
The bell rang for fourth hour sooner than expected, but still she stood, packed her things away, shut down the computer she had been working at, and then left the classroom, adjusting the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder as she did so. As it had been for the past better part of a week, the class had been working with Microsoft Office Excel 2007. As usual, her A grade demonstrated her competence in working with such programs as Microsoft Office Word, Microsoft Office PowerPoint, and Excel itself. Again removing the sinful, prideful thoughts from her mind, she wove her way through the teeming, seething mass, much akin to the sea, her school-mates made in the halls.
Arriving at her fourth hour, Algebra II, the tall, cross-dressed teen moved to her desk. Getting out her things and seating herself, she turned her attention to the rather heavy-set boy whom claimed the seat beside her own. A slight smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, as she voiced her greeting. As per usual, nothing even close to a smile was going to make itself known upon her lips. Heinkel usually didn't express emotion, and so even if it were but a smirk or a sneer, the few friends she had – if she could really call them that, since they were precarious enough to turn on her at any moment – knew to take whatever they could get when it came to her and what emotion she would or wouldn't express.
"Hallo, Josh." He was in her German II class, so he would know what she was saying. If he didn't… Well, she just hoped he really wasn't more stupid than she had initially thought. "Wie geht es Ihnen?" It was only polite to ask how someone was doing, after all, and the formal usage of 'you' should have been indication enough that the blonde really didn't have friends.
"Es geht mir gut, und dich, Heinkel?" He replied in kind, his soft voice just slightly halting on the word order. She nodded in indication that he had gotten it right, but shrugged in response to the question itself all the same. She was doing alright, but didn't really think it was worth mentioning, at this point.
In any event, class began a few moments later.
As the bell rang for lunch, Heinkel placed her things into her messenger bag once more. Mentally going over her homework as she exited the classroom, with nothing more than a wave to Josh, she concluded that she only had math homework to complete. They were never given homework after a test – as had happened in English – and some classes only gave homework once in a blue moon, as happened with her Business and Computer Apps class, so, logically speaking, that meant she only had homework from Ms. Somsen. Thank God for that; she may have liked school and especially liked getting her A's – there went her prideful thoughts again – but she really didn't like homework. Well, sometimes she did, but today seemed to be one of the days where she didn't like it.
Shaking the unneeded and really rather pointless thoughts from her mind, the tall girl arrived at her locker. Heinkel listened idly to the conversation, or rather conversations, taking place around her. Most students congregated by one locker or another, while others headed for and remained in the cafeteria itself, and still others got their lunches – school-provided or otherwise – and headed for the expanse of the school grounds. Currently, she found herself listening to the chitter-chatter of a group of Freshman girls, mixed in with the general, low cacophony of the students whom traversed the halls aimlessly during the lunch hour. Exchanging her English, Business and Computer Apps, and Algebra II textbooks and binders – the math homework was only a worksheet, so she kept that binder – for her History, German II, and Poetry textbooks and binders, she shut her locker. Slinging the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder once more, she headed for the stairs to the roof. She was stopped halfway up, however.
"Hey, dyke, we'd like a word with you."
Now this was something she was used to. This was something she could take care of herself. This was something that didn't throw her off balance any more, not like her sister's usage of the same term this morning had. This was a scene that had been playing out for a very long time now. This, however, was also when her darker side came out to play.
"A vord?" The timber of her voice remained the same; however English replaced German as the spoken language, and her accent came actuely audible and coarse. She echoed the 'request' made to her, half turning to regard the group whom addressed her as she did so. There was more than one; of course there was more than one. There was always more than one. The group of boys, seniors by the look of them, was about ten strong. She could take them, she concluded, her dark glasses flashing ominously. She could take them, and take them easily, but not here.
Turning once more to resume her way up the stairs, she continued to speak. Her accent had thickened slightly, but it was nowhere near as overbearing as it could be when she was angry. And that, was something no-one ever wanted to see – rather, something no-one ever wanted to hear. Hearing that, would often mean trouble of the worst kind was ahead. When she was angry, she would often degrade into rage-fueled, German-spoken Biblical rants. When she was angry, physical, property, and at times even collateral damage ensued. So yes, her anger was something that most should want to avoid. She was usually very good at controlling her temper, but as she was human, she did have days in which she just couldn't take it anymore and snapped. She prayed that today wasn't one of those days; she really didn't want to end up in Juvenile Detention for killing any of these idiots…
"You vant a vord, you say? Alright, but not here – it ist too close ov qvarters for a conversation, don't you zink?" In all honestly, she didn't give a damn what they thought, heathens that they were. Resuming her route she ascended the last few steps, opened the door, and exited out onto the roof.
Setting her bag onto one of the stone benches, Heinkel opened a side pocket and withdrew a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Placing a cigarette between her lips, she lit it casually, before putting the pack and lighter away again. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she regarded the boys coolly as they surrounded her. She noted that the door to the roof had been shut – they didn't intend to be interrupted. Good. That would make what she needed to do much easier. Silently murmuring a prayer in her mind, both for what she was about to do, and for strength enough to keep her anger from snapping and taking her over. That said, however, regardless of what happened here she resolved to head to Confession at the soonest after school opportunity (she wasn't allowed to go if her parents knew, though that was neither here nor there at the moment).
"So." She twitched the cigarette as she spoke, so that the ash fell from the end. As she had been smoking for about a year now, she thought nothing of it. It just made her that much more intimidating, or so she had heard, and that suited her just fine. If it kept idiots like these away – rather, the few who actually possessed a few brain cells and the capacity to make them function, though she knew it was asking a bit much of them – then she was glad of it. "Tell me, vhat do you really vant ov me?" Though it may have been phrased as a question, it was not. It was an order.
"Heh, right to the point, I see. You never miss a beat do you, Catholic?" One of the boys sneered, looking at her with nothing short of contempt as he posed the sarcastic question. She knew that, had they been able to see her eyes, the exact same would have been glinting from their frigid sapphire depths.
He was the leader, she noted. He was tall and broad shouldered, easily equaling her in height and surpassing her in weight by a good deal; he was captain of the football team, if memory served her correctly. He had been one of her main antagonists for about two years now, but she had never really bothered to know much about him. She didn't care, in all honesty; things had started with his trying to hit on her when she was a Freshman, and her punching his lights out when he didn't seem to understand that 'no' meant 'no,' and that 'lesbian' meant that she was attracted to women, not men. For now, however, she simply regarded him all but emotionlessly, as she waited for him to continue talking. Self-important men like him liked to hear themselves talk, she knew that from their previous encounters.
"We," the group was indicated, "think that you've been getting a bit too comfortable around here… Think it's about time someone needed to teach you your place, you German bitch."
"'Mein place'?" She repeated his words, sneering now as well. "You, you heathen dogs, vant to teach me mein place?" Without giving them so much as moment to respond, she continued speaking. Her blood boiled at such insolence, and her slowly thickening accent was the only indication that she was slowly losing her grip on her anger. It seemed God had not wanted to hear her prayers today. "Und really, 'German bitch'? 'Dyke'? 'Catholic'? Zat's ze best you've got? I haff heard vorse from mein zirteen year old sister! If you really vant to insult me, to hurt mein feelings, mein pride, come up vith better slurs. Ozervise, you're no better zan ein kliener Mädchen!" That seemed to be the last straw of the boys' patience, even if she doubted they knew what she had said, considering that she was now fully snarling her words in German. They all converged upon her then. But her anger was building now, and she wanted to make someone hurt.
Little did those boys know, they didn't stand even a snowball's chance in Hell against Heinkel when she got truly angry.
She finished her cigarette, as the bell went for fifth hour, her expression unreadable once more. Picking up her bag after tossing the dead cigarette into a trashcan, the blonde pulled the strap over her shoulder. She didn't look back, as she made her way to the door which led back down into the school. She didn't look behind her, to see the boys, most of them unconscious, and all laying sprawled where she had left them. Some were bleeding, others had more bruises than face left, and still others had even sustained broken bones or a concussion, but she had beaten the fear of God into them; that was sure. This, of course, wasn't to mention that an entire section of the fence was now bent out of shape.
She only stopped at the door, though not turning to acknowledge what she had done. "Und by ze vay, I'm Austrian, nicht German." And then she was gone, back inside the building.
Heinkel found it rather hard to concentrate on her classes which followed, but thanked God for her ability to take comprehensive notes almost completely on autopilot. This always seemed to happen, after she lost her temper in such a way. She would lash out, usually with painful consequences for the thing or person which had roused her anger, and then be slightly space-y once she had regained her usual cool, all but emotionless personality. Another good friend of hers, Hagan, whom she had German II and Poetry with, stuck by her side like glue when this happened, making sure that she didn't A) try to kill someone else, or B) walk into a wall. The latter may have seemed slightly laughable and unneeded, but it had happened before, and normally she was grateful to him for it. Unusually, however, she didn't have much patience for him that day.
Again she thanked God, when Poetry class was canceled. They had been planning to use the auditorium, to work on recitations, but were told that the choir needed it, and so the class was simply sent home early. As most had their own cars, and those that didn't had their cell phones with which to arrange a ride, no-one from the administration bothered to notify parents or guardians of this. As such, Heinkel could sneak away.
She needed to have a discussion with a certain someone anyhow, and this would be the perfect time to do that.
