Hey! Ta-dah! It's a-me, Twi! You know you love me. Yes, I see the stones you are hiding behind your backs. Shame on you. Any-whooo, let's go!
~Taffy's Point of View~
"You're not going alone."
"You can't stop me."
"Watch me!"
"Oh, you wanna go?"
"Heck, no! I can't fight! I was more thinking along the lines of hurling you in a closet."
"Oh, just you try!"
"Oh, I'll try alright!"
"Get off my case!"
"Never! I'm your best friend, I'm supposed to be on your case!"
"Why, you-! I outta-! ARGH! Taffy, I hate you sometimes!"
"That means I'm doing my job correctly."
"Well, what do you want me to do? I'm not staying here, and leaving's the only other option."
"I never said you couldn't leave."
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I said you couldn't leave alone."
"And just what does that mean?"
"I'm packing my stuff and going with you."
"Say what?" Cleo was shocked to say the least. Where had that come from?
I took a deep breath, "Lemme break it down for you: I'm—that means me, Taffy, your best friend…going—that means I'm going to leave here… with—accompanying… you—that's you, Hun. Cleopatra. My best friend." I put my hand on my hip and I looked her dead in her aquamarine eyes. She looked surprisingly similar to a dying Magikarp on crack.
"… But-!" she started.
"No. Not going to work. You know me. I am stubborn. I am Mistress of the Stubborn People. Heck, they bow down to me and worship me as their Queen! You know you will not get anywhere with me. So give it up, and help me pack my stuff." I may not be 'Book smart,' per say, but I know how to stand my ground and get what I want.
Cleo sat silently, pondering over what I had just said, and analyzing any and every opening and possible way to get me to take everything back. Good luck.
"… Two days." I heard her mutter under her breath.
"What?"
"I'll give you two days. If you can stand being with me for two days, I'll stop bitching and let you stay. Two days."
"Deal. Prepare to eat your words, Snow Queen."
"Oh, you're on, Bubblegum Head!"
After a mock stare down, both of us burst into laughter and shouldered our backpacks. We didn't even get strange looks. Pros and cons of being socially invisible: Pros: We get to do whatever we want and nobody gives a crap, we don't have to worry about appearances, and we get to stalk everybody and they don't even notice—actually, I get to stalk people and I just drag Cleo along, something about 'personal privacy,' or some jazz like that. Please, it's hilarious what people do when they think no one's looking. Cons: very few friends; if people do notice us, it's normally not good attention; gossip central, we are; and, of course, we are always, always, the last people picked for sports teams.
I am a lower class social invisible, meaning people actually talk to me and I'm somewhat high up on the picking of sports teams—liiiies. Cleo, on the other hand, bless her heart, is the highest class social reject. If I'm not constantly watching her, she'll be shoved into a locker. They'll pay for it with their reputation, but it'll happen. Trust me, it happens. It's bad.
"See you later. Maths. Who the heck invented Maths anyways? They deserve to be burned at the stake, and then buried six feet under!"
"Without Maths, how would you know when he was six feet under?"
"Good point. Bye-bye, Girl."
"See ya."
And we parted ways.
I've known Cleo for a long, long time, and I still don't understand her. How can she be so smart, and so beautiful, and yet so completely at war with herself? If I were as pretty as her, with her shin-length white hair and her pretty aquamarine eyes with her big long lashes, I'd be strutting my stuff on the runway!
But she's so sad.
I can make her smile and laugh, but when I'm not around, and she thinks no one's looking, she just kind of deflates. Like she just gives up. Maybe it's the way she's made, or her traumatizing back story; I don't know, but it breaks my heart.
But all I can do is press on and be there when she needs me; no way in hell am I letting her go anywhere without me. She'll fall to bits.
Just two days. I can do this. I will do this. There's no way I will let her do this on her own.
~Physical Education, 1:00~
"Late!" barked Mr. Babinski, the PE teacher who was built like a steamroller mixed with tractor mixed with Titanic. The poor fool he had caught sneaking into his place after the bell had rung groaned loudly and dropped to the ground and started doing squat-thrusts. Fifty of them, all including that stupid little thing where you have to jump up and clap your hands together. Yuck.
"Mr. Babinskiiiiiiii!" came a high-pitched squeal. Gracie came trotting over with her ridiculously high heels and her $60,000 purse; still dressed in a tight white skirt and a dangerously hot pink v-cut tank top.
"Ah, yes, Gracie?"
Ah, yes. The suck up teacher. Just because Gracie's dad was the CEO of the board, every single teacher treated her like royalty. Grow a backbone, dude!
"I need extra time to change." Sure. It's not like she's actually going to do any exercise, unless she thinks it's going to accent her flabby abs. She needs two things, sit-ups, and more sit-ups!
"Of course, take all the time you need. I'll be here, disciplining these young brats!" As he screamed the last part, spittle flew from his lips. Everybody took several hasty steps back.
"Thanks, Hun. My friends are coming too. Don't mark us tardy, m'kay?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
Shoot me in the foot.
Cleo came panting up, clutching her books and her hair in a sloppy high ponytail. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mr. Babinski, my class was let out late!"
"I don't want to hear your excuses, Cleopatra! I want one hundred pushups! NOW!"
Everyone's jaw dropped. Even the boys who screwed around in class only got fifty! And girls were only supposed to get thirty, at most!
"W-what? I-I need time to change!"
"Well, you don't get it! Do them NOW! In front of the entire class! Drop, Cleopatra, drop!"
Now, Cleo is a very strong person. Nothing fazes her. She's calm and collected—with a temper of a volcano—and always analytical. But the PE teacher had always been the one person she couldn't read, partially because he simply had no secrets. Everything was out in the open for him. For that reason only, he terrifies Cleo, and I'm the only one that knows it.
But screw that! Aside from the abusive punishment, Mr. Babinski didn't notice, or didn't care, what Cleo was wearing: a pair of jeans, flats tied with ribbons, and a white top that was incredibly tight down the sides. The front was loose, partially cause it was a hand-me-down from her deceased mother. She can't possibly do pushups in that!
"B-but-!"
"NOW!" he roared at her.
Almost in tears, Cleo placed her books on the ground and, in front of the entire class, knelt down and started doing pushups. The very first one, all the seams down the side split and fell apart. The whole shirt fell to pieces, revealing her svelte form and her white bra. The boys wolf-whistled at her, and Cleo turned blood red.
I covered my hands with my mouth and started forward, but was yelled at by the teacher to, 'Stay put, or you're going to be in detention for the rest of the year!'
Cleo continued on, tears falling freely now. She was only at twenty and her shirt had fallen almost completely off.
"P-please, Mr. Babinski! Her shirt, just let me-!"
"Shut up, Rosade! This is her punishment for being late, it's good if it's embarrassing!"
Now I was close to tears. How had this teacher not been fired yet? He's cruel and over the top!
Cleo slowly struggled to hit thirty. "That's enough." A voice rang out from one of the corners.
"Eh? Who said that!?"
"Me. And I said, that's enough. She's done thirty. That's as many as you're allowed to give girls. She can stop now." The crowd parted as none other that Gryphon pushed his way through the masses.
"Now, listen here, Mystic! This is my class-"
"And my dad's the principle; you wanna take it up with him?" Gryphon knelt beside the shaking Cleo. He quickly stripped off his signature green jacket with yellow neck and cuffs and tucked it around her shoulders. She sat up, wiped the tears off her face, and put on the jacket.
"Thank you," she whispered to him. He nodded. At that very moment, my entire view on Gryphon, the snotty, playboy, arrogant, pig-headed, jerk changed. I saw a side of him I never even knew existed. And I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
Mr. Babinski struggled to find words, turns various shades of red, and decided his job was more valuable than his pride. "Fine. Get back in your spot, Mystic, and you… just go change. Rosade, go with her." I bolted from my spot and hurled myself on her. She patted my hands and I helped her to her feet. Clutching the jacket around her, she allowed me to usher her to the bathroom, where I ran to find her some clothes. Her bag had vanished when I went to go look for it. It had to have been Gracie.
So I had to settle for a plain white t-shirt and some dark green shorts, as well as my extra set of sneakers.
Cleo put it on and we oozed our way back to the hellhole, where Baboonski was yelling at someone else. I nudged her shoulder, "You got this. Just don't make eye-contact with anyone else."
"Sure thing. I'm going to crush him. I'll make something up if I have to!"
"Oh, Cleo. Don't go down that path. Just hold out for an hour and a half, and then you never have to see these people again."
"I make no promises. When I'm through with him, he's going to think he got run over by a Snorlax."
"Arceus! Don't kill him or anything…"
"Moderate brain damage?"
"…"
"Fine. Light brain damage. That's as low as I'm going."
"… Deal."
Me: And that's a wrap, Folks!
Cleo: What the-? You made me look weak!
Me: I had to make Gryphon look good!
Cleo and Taffy: Why?
Me: *cough* no reason *cough cough*
Taffy: What are you planning…?
Me: *Cough cough cough cough* Evil things *Cough cough cough*
Gryphon: That's right, I'm the good guy here. *Punched by Cleo*
Cleo: Don't get ahead of yourself! You're still a jerk!
Me: Excuse me while I separate these two. Byyyyeeee~!
P.S I had to make Mr. Babinski as mean as possible to make sure nobody like, hated Gryphon before his time. So, don't rage on how he was over the top cruel or anything. INTERNET COOKIES TO ALL!