Chapter 2. Read my FINGER
"So how was school?" Dad asks.
"The usual," I reply nonchalantly.
"And what is the usual?"
"Full of egostic pigs, sluts, and nice kids."
"Well, the last part is good."
I look at my dad like he's from Mars or something.
"I just don't understand you. People can't live by themselves."
Tell me about it. Why do you think I always have bunch of friends left behind me.
"I don't want to talk about this."
He knows this is a touchy stuff so he moves on to other subject.
"What about the teachers?"
"I don't know. I was asleep most of the times."
"Clary."
"What? I'm always transferring so don't talk about good colleges. I'll never go to one anyways. At least not for more than half a year."
"I'm not talking about colleges. It's just that you need to know the basic things-"
"Basic things? Where the hell do you use cubic equation in the real life? Or when we're running away for millionth time. Or do you want me to build a rocket ship so we can fly to the Never Never Land and never be found?"
I then, go to my room and shrug my backpack and jacket off. I feel sorry for my dad, but I'm not really in the mood for apologizing. I get my homework out and fling myself on my mattress with them. We're not that poor, and we can afford a bed, but dad and I know the importance of money. Especially now, and we will not waste it on a time we spend while we're unconscious.
Homework sucks. Seriously, I do not understand even the questions. Did I mention that I have to finish reading To Kill a Mockingbird by next week? Now how the hell am I going to get that thing? And why in the earth do we have to know about the ways to kill mockingbirds in English? Well, I'm not asking my dad to buy me a stupid book. I'm thinking about getting a phone, though, for my birthday. I mean, I'm sixteen and I don't have a phone!
I just write random things on the homework page, wishing that somehow, Darth Vader is Luke's father would answer one of the questions. Oh well. Who cares?
After hours of scribbling random things down, I go out to apologize.
"Hey, dad? I'm sorry for what I said."
"It's okay. I'm sorry that I can't provide you a decent environment. Things sometimes just don't go the way you want them to, you know."
"I know."
"You hungry?"
"Sure."
"I made you your favorite."
"I know. I could smell it from my room."
"Come on, let's finish this!"
Dad and I attack the pasta savagely, leaving two empty plates in the end.
Dad works in a construction thing, so he's only home for a while. But today's my mom's birthday, and let me just say that his boss is like the most generous person in the world. No kidding. This construction buisness is actually full of criminals and people being chased. When you're in it, it's like everyone recognizes that you too, made some serious mistakes.
I never understood why we were celebrating mom's birthday, but if that means my dad cooks for me and spend time with me, that's cool with me.
"Help me do the dishes?"
"Sure thing," I answer, carrying the plates to the sink.
My former friends always thought we were extremely poor, but we're not to be honest. I mean sure, we have lesser money than usual. A lot lesser. But still, we have this money for emergency. I mean, yeah, my dad owes billions of dollar to people, but hey, what's wrong with being optimistic? We never got caught, and that's what matters. And we can use the emergency money if an accident happens. So, it's pretty much a shot of life.
"Clarissa Morgenstern," Mr. Blackwell says angrily.
"Yes, sir?"
"I did not want to know that Darth Vader is Luke's father."
I hear snicker from all over the classroom, and as always, I ignore them.
"Trust me, sir. I don't think anyone did. But I'm afraid that it was inevitable. We cannot change the storyline anymore since it's all over the world already. Should we learn how to build a time machine so we can go back in time and fix it to your benefit?" Jordan says.
I sat as far as possible away from him, which gave us quite a few meters of space between us.
"Mr. Kyle, we do not take things lightly in this classroom."
"Excuse me for interrupting, but who's we?"
"Mr. Kyle-"
"Guys," Blondie suddenly says. "Raise your hand if you think we should take things lightly in this classroom."
Everyone except for the teacher's hand go up.
"Guess no more seriousness," Jordan says, shrugging.
"That's enough! Detention for all three of you!"
"Wait, wait. Hold up. Three? You mean Blondie, Jordan, and me?" I exclaim.
"Hold up, who's Blondie?" Blondie asks, frowning.
The classroom bursts into a fit of laughter.
"Silence!"
"Oh my god. You watched Harry Potter, didn't you? The Dumbledore approach doesn't really suit you."
"Luch hour. Detention. 206. End of discussion."
"I still didn't get an explanation for my detention!" I complain.
"You did not fulfill your assignment," he says, exasperated.
"Well it's not my fault that your class is so boring!"
Damn it, that really might earn me a detention.
Jordan laughs out loud, and I give him the finger, which earns me another shout from the teacher.
"Well, that was fun," Blondie says, sitting down beside me.
"Do you mind?"
"Mind what?"
"Go sit somewhere else."
"But you won't get to admire my beautiful body from far away."
"Exactly my point."
"Oh, so you don't want to pass out because of my god like-"
"Whatever you say, Blondie."
Not being to stand him anymore, I go and sit in other table.
"Yeah, about that, why the hell am I Blondie?" He asks across the room, frowning.
"Look at your hair."
"I radiate testosterone everywhere."
I ignore him, just concentrating on the edge of my pencil.
"I am so sorry!" A woman trills, coming into the room with a burger in her hand.
Her makeup is ridiculous, and her outfit... I don't want to talk about it.
"I am Mrs. Trinket. Today we have... Only two students? That is awesome, dears! Now, today we're going to do something super fun! You guys are going to write everything wrong you did today, and I'm just going to have my burger! How does that sound, darlings?"
I stare at her, knowing there's only two reasonable explanations for this. One, her brain has a knife stuck in it. Two, my brain has a knife stuck in it, and I'm hallucinating.
"That sounds... Awesomely horrible," Jace says.
"Oh, how witty of you. Now start writing, lovelies."
I mentally groan, tapping my pencil against the table.
Blondie sees this and writes something on a piece of paper and tosses it to me.
Need help?
I look at him skeptically. He reaches for my paper and I give it to him since I haven't really written anything on it.
When he gets the paper to his table, he passionately writes something on it. Moments later, he gives the paper back to me.
I have elaborated the coolest piece of literature, about Darth Vader being the father of Luke. Sadly, Mr. Blackwell couldn't handle the news. Yes, it is very tragic. I apologize for the dude fucking a woman and having a son named Luke.
He definitely didn't watch the movie, I guess. I look at him, rolling my eyes, but I cannot hide the smirk that's creeping up my lips.
He mouthes I know you love it, smirking his signature smirk.
"Hey, where's Jordan, by the way?" Jace asks out loud.
"Mr. Burnwood, I would like it if you would keep your thoughts to yourself."
"A, it's Lightwood. B, I think Claire's done."
Just as then, Jordan opens the door and comes in, his brown hair sticking to his forehead because of sweat.
"Sorry... Forgot," he says, panting.
"Come in, and you are... Mr. Kyle?"
"Yes, Effu."
"Effu?" I ask.
"I'll tell you later," Jace says, laughing.
"I don't need you to."
"Well, Mr. Kyle, since you're here, welcome to our personal hell. We get this splendid opportunity to write," Jace says, mimicking Mrs. Trinket's funny accent.
Jordan laughs, and comes to sit beside me.
I glare at him, but he shrugs it off, taking his notebook and pencil out.
"So Tink. You curious about Effu's story?" He asks, smiling.
I shake my head, debating whether to throw my paper away or give it to Mrs. Trinket or Effu.
"Well, her name is actually Effie, but seriously, I think we all agree that Effu is so much more sophisticated name."
"Sure, sure."
"No, seriously. So what do you think is the purpose of this?"
"I really don't see the purpose of us talking."
Oh my god, Clary. Just ignore him. Don't talk back to him.
"I meant detention, not talking, Tink."
"Really, this is the third time you called me that. Stop calling me that."
"Why?"
"I'm not that small."
"Then the name stays, Tink," he says, grinning.
"Hi, Clary! It's so good to see you again!" Isabelle shouts as I come out with Blondie and Jordan.
"Same to you," I mumble, my voice barely audible.
"Jace! Where the hell were you doing during lunch?" She asks again, this time, turning to face Jace.
"Detention."
"Jace, it's Effu who's supervising. You didn't need to go. I got a detention too, but she never noticed, did she? No one went. All she cares about is her stupid cheeseburger."
"Oh, but I had a certain red hair to entertain. And her name is Claire, not Clary."
"No, it's Clary."
Oh, gosh. This is not happening right now.
So...? Like it? Hate it? Don't give a crap? And I really really had to put our adorable Effie. Well, I hope you enjoyed!