Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
A/N: I'm ever so sorry haven't updated this in ages. Please forgive me, dearest reviewers! Ye Gods, you've probably all gone away.
Monday, January 8, 1973
More school happened today.
I went to all my classes. Boring.
Actually, it wasn't too boring. My second period teacher (Ms. Irving) seems to really like me.
"You're the only student I've had in years who enjoys Mark Twain this much!" she said, after I'd admitted I had no more to read because I'd finished the book over the weekend.
Secretly, I wished I could tell her why I liked it. I'd explain that I felt like a foil to the main character. A person who'd been sent to a new world practically beyond my own control… yet I didn't try to change things like the book's character did. I'm studying, not meddling.
Telling her that that would betray our mission. And if I betrayed the mission the Master would punish my parents and I. Dad always takes the blame for stuff so the Master doesn't take his anger out on me in the worst way. But something that could easily get us killed might earn me something as horrible as him having his way with me.
In Earth/Space Science I forgot all those worries.
That class I shared with Eddie. Since the bastard of a teacher knew I was acquainted with Eddie he didn't really like me. I felt cruel, avoiding speaking to Eddie, but I would probably be failed out just because of some stupid grudge Dr. Scott held.
Geometry, as always, was agonizingly easy and nothing happened at all.
At lunch I sat with Eddie, Laura, and Glen (as usual).
"How was Sunday?" Glen asked, as he began eating a sandwich.
"You probably don't want to know. Eddie and I spent the entire day together," Laura giggled.
"Mostly in her bed," he added.
I winced.
"How was Sunday for you, Trixie?" Glen asked.
"Boring as hell," I replied bitterly.
"What da ya mean?" asked Eddie.
"My parents made me go to church," I explained.
Laura raised an eyebrow. "I thought they weren't religious."
Oh dear. What was I supposed to say to that? After thinking carefully, I settled for the least suspicious answer I could think of.
"They wanted to see if churches here are the same as the ones back home in Alba, Transylvania, Romania. We hated them, and we hate American churches."
"I didn't know ya were from Romania. Why don't ya have a vampire accent?" Eddie asked.
"Don't be rude, sweetheart!" Laura said in a voice that made me think she was imitating the upper class people of her planet's society.
I shouldn't think like that. No, if I kept thinking like that I might accidentally say something. But I shouldn't blend into their culture too well or I'll forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Buggrit.
"Seriously, though. You should have some kind of accent," Glen said quietly.
"My family is Irish so I was surrounded by people with Irish accents. Anyway, I didn't live there my whole life. We left Ireland when I was about 9, then left Romania last year. But I don't like talking about it," I explained/lied.
A silence fell upon us.
Thankfully, the bell rang.
Laura and Eddie walked to Film Studies with me. As we walked we didn't speak. When we got to the classroom, we didn't speak. I don't know why.
"Today! Today we watch a film called 2001: a Space Odyssey. In it, there is a computer named HAL 9000. Unlike Robby the Robot, HAL is mean. Also unlike people in Forbidden Planet, there are no young women with nice-to-look at legs. But don't despair! Other movies have that!" Mr. Orpheum explained, once class began.
Once the movie started, Mr. Orpheum went to his desk and took something out of a drawer. For a moment I thought it was a worksheet for us to fill out… but I soon realized it was some kind of porn magazine. Ew.
"Is he really looking a pictures of… young woman?" I whispered to Laura once the movie had begun.
"I think so."
Class being the length it is, we didn't watch the whole movie. Though I wasn't even paying attention to it.
In the next period, Mr. Tacitus' history class, we learned about different Greek philosophers and philosophies. One of the philosophies was called Hedonism. I think that the Master is a Hedonist. They ignore the feelings of others and doing whatever the hell they please- just for their own pleasure. Sounds just like him!
Though we discussed our thoughts on each of the philosophies, I resisted the strong urge to vent about all the awful things he does. Someone would probably call the police if they heard some of those things he does to both my parents… and people aren't even supposed to know he's here.
When that ended, I all but ran to Ms. James' class.
She was the nicest teacher. Even nicer than Ms. Clemens, in fact!
"Hello, Miss Trixie," she said with a smile, as I entered the room.
"Hello Ms. James."
That class went well. I even began writing a short story slightly based on A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. It started out the same as Mark Twain's story, but the main character decided to watch their society rather than trick them. He got killed, however, when he tried to explain this.
"That's an interesting concept, Trixie," Ms. James said after reading my first draft.
"Is it a good concept?" I asked.
"It's very clever and very well written."
I smiled at her praise.
Only minutes before class ended I overheard a conversation between the teacher and Glen.
"You sent it in, but they wouldn't publish it because it included a more-than-friendship relationship between two male characters?" she asked, frowning.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Try another magazine. Keep trying until somebody publishes it. The best advice for a writer is to never, ever give up."
I wondered what they could be talking about.
Then, the final bell rang and everyone rushed out of the classroom. Dad was waiting outside the school in his pickup truck.
"How was your… day?" he asked.
"Pretty good."
Once we got home, I went right to my room. There I typed a report (about the Ancient Greek ideas, among other things) on my typewriter. After that I did my homework. There wasn't much, luckily.
Right before Mom served the Master dinner I gave him the report. He gave me an unpleasantly suggestive wink in return.
After that I ran to my room. Then, I locked the door. So what if I don't get dinner? I needed to avoid the Master.
He rarely flirts openly with me. I don't think he wants me, since my mother looks almost exactly the same (to him looks are everything) and he can have her practically whenever he wants. But I'm still innocent and he loves corrupting the innocents. I've been getting worried.
Only moments ago I locked my door. Then I sat down and began writing. I still am, since-
Oh dear… Mom and Dad sound like they're, er… doing something. I wish they slept in a room farther away from mine. Since the servants quarters are pretty small, their room is next to mine.
I'd better go to bed now. I don't get waken up very easily once I'm asleep.
Yours,
Trixie
A/N: Today I 'mentally scarred' my friend by making him watch the scene from RHPS in which Frank sings Sweet Transvestite. Some guys don't like seeing other guys in woman's underclothes, apparently.
I know that's totally unrelated...
...but I hope it's somewhat funny.
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