Can I not type the disclaimer? Hee, glee :D Hello, all. I know I've been quite dead and all, so forgive me. Please. I will bribe you with cookies if you don't anyways.
Disclaimer: Ehem ehem ehemmmmm cough cough ooh moose.
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Yours Truly, with Smudged Black Ink
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She sort of couldn't believe herself.
She had answered all the Algebra sums assigned by the Teacher to do in class while He/She took a "short break", head slumped on the table, snoring His/Her life away for at least about an hour before her Best Friend poured ice cold water over the Teacher.
Yes, her Best Friend was good at pouring things. In fact, he just poured half a carton of milk on her brand new black "Got Milk?" shirt.
And he had thought it was really very fitting with the shirt, proceeding to laugh his ass off while she poured the rest of the milk over his head.
She peered at the slouching figure they called "Teacher", her eyes, bordered by huge white framed spectacles, squeezed into small slits smaller than a toothpick.
It's not like she was good at identifying genders anyways.
Pushing away her coal coloured fringe from the white frames, she spied on the class around her.
She swore she could almost hear the Algebra sums talking in the many brains around her, the smell of mathematics diffusing around the room.
The very scent was overwhelming her as she gaped for breath, wheezing and panting, and mock-collapsing on her desk.
No, she wasn't overreacting. Maths really smelled very smelly, like the Jamaican Janitor who cleaned the boys washrooms on her level.
Best Friend from like a gazillion seats away in the front row stared at her and gave her the "fingers".
Funny how he could give the Victory sign with a straight face all the time.
She kicked off her converses, exposing her green socks and her shoes getting thrown back by the Pretty Girly Girl Kairi three seats from the front. Oh joy. Her shoes were not loved.
"No, shoes, don't be emo. Bad shoes. Bad emo shoes." She smacked her shoes and arranged them neatly under her desk which was horribly vandalised with marker drawings of ninjas, stick figures, song lyrics, bands and messages from friends. She grabbed her notebook from under the desk and tore a page out.
"Yo yo yo I'm a ninja and it's my pleasure to serve the residents in saving babies and cookies and rarrr eat Best Friend's brain oh yeah Teacher you rock my ass man just don't give me detention if you see this cause you rock and I did finish the Algebra sums and Best Friend has funny gravity defying hair-"
Her "doodling pencil", as she liked to call it, stopped in midair.
She wanted to fold a paper aeroplane.
She had this urge to. She had to fold it. She just knew she had to.
It was her destiny to.
The piece of paper with near to not-so-meticulous-writing immediately transformed into a jet, her nimble hands gliding across the wings.
She closed her eyes.
She felt a voice saying "THROW IT" in her not-so-common-sense head. Her conscience fought with the "THROW IT" voice.
"But what if it doesn't hit anyone at all, "THROW IT" voice?" Conscience speaking.
"Ah, damn it all to hell." "THROW IT" voice speaking.
A simple answer to gain the pass to do anything one wanted.
She closed her eyes and thrust the jet into the air.
It flew. And flew. And flew.
And it landed.
Right smack onto His head. Y'know, the school stud's head. Oh sure it was everyday His head got poked by a random paper plane.
She was SO sure.
"Well, it happens everyday to some other school stud in some other school, ya know." She inwardly screamed at the "THROW IT" voice to shut up and glared at it in her brain.
Inner conflict with "THROW IT" voice. So much better than talking to oneself.
He opened up the folded paper. Then he spun around and gave her the "look".
The "I'm-such-a-stud-and-I-know-it's-you" look.
She gave him the "Well-excuse-me-I-am-busy-fighting-with-my-"THROW IT" voice-and-I'm-not-a-ninja-who-goes-yo-yo-yo-and-I'm-trying-not-to-show-I'm-nervous-when-you-look-at-me" look back and swung her legs violently, kicking the chair of the weird little blonde haired boy child everyone called "Tee-dus" in front of her, causing him to send a death glare in her direction.
He rolled those pretty eyes and spun back to his desk, obtaining many silent squeals from the girls in the class who caught a whiff of his cologne while he spun.
How friendly.
She saw Him reaching out to poke Best Friend with the end of his pen.
Ooh, Best Friend sat next to Stud of the School and was friends with him.
Best Friend handed Him a black pen. She never knew Best Friend had black pens.
She always thought he only had a mp3 in his pencilbox.
"Oh well," She thought.
"At least I don't think I offended him enough to send his army of fangirls against me. "
With that, she proceeded to sing the If You're Happy and You Know It song.
"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands-" She had caught a plane while clapping.
He gave her a evil looking grin and winked at her.
She mocked puked. No, she was overreacting. Her hand fiddled with the corners of the plane.
There, in childish handwriting, with smudged black ink.
"Don't practice your pilot dreams here, you pretty ninja. PS: Your shirt is indeed very nice."
She gaped.
"Pretty ninja" was smudged so badly, yet it all seemed right.
Pretty ninja. It sounded really good to her.
"Well it wasn't everyday the School Stud would even look at you and call you a Pretty Ninja, ya know." Her "THROW IT" voice echoed in her head.
"Well it also wasn't everyday the School Stud would make fun of your milk stained shirt, ya know." She replied to her "THROW IT" voice in her head and gave it an imaginary nudge.
She glanced at the milk-stained shirt which smelled like dairy.
She had to thank Best Friend later.
And she had to get dunked by milk more often.
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Gotmilk belongs to Umm, I guess. Anyways, I am done with yet another oneshot to irritate people! Hurrah! It's pretty obvious who's who. Anyways, please review and thanks for reading!
And remember to drink milk.
It is the smex.
