Fish

The second that I'd stepped foot into school I understood what everyone had meant when they said the word pain.

Only pain wasn't the right word; in fact there aren't words to describe this torture.

I hadn't even noticed that I'd keeled over in the middle of the hallway until the security guard came out of his office and asked me if I was alright.

"Does it look like I'm alright," I'd forced out, looking up at him through squinted eyes.

The asshole even had the audacity to chuckle.

Then he walked away.

Just walked away, mumbling something about 'the good old days'.

What kind of security guard does that? I could have been dying of a shot wound! He didn't even stay long enough to check for blood on the front of my t-shirt!

Anyway, as soon I could think straight, I went to my locker.

That was the past four and a half minutes.

Now I'm in homeroom.

"How do you feel?" Jessica, who I really only tolerate because she's friends with my friend, asks.

"Why do people keep asking me that?"

"Because it's a valid question; aren't you the least bit excited to meet the love of your life?" she inquires though her face resembles that of one who is gazing off into the sunset.

"No."

"Come on," she urges.

"Nope."

"Not even just a little bit?"

"Not even as much as I care to have this conversation."

She laughs, "You're funny, Swan."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, you, too, Skantley."

"It's Stanley," she corrects dryly.

"That's what I said," I say, waving my hand uncaringly.

Jessica sighs heavily, "Seriously, though. It could be worse," when I don't press for more information she continues, "At least you're not a guy. They have to wait until their mate turns sixteen to be found! At least since we're girls we know that we'll find our true mate on our sixteenth birthday."

I blatantly ignore her.

"Without the mating process . . . some might never meet their soul mates. They might die alone, or even live their life with someone who isn't right for them. Someone who might hurt them."

I continue to ignore her as she rambles on.

"Bella."

She must have realized that I don't care.

Think about fish.

"Bella."

Fish can swim away from other fish they don't like without seeming rude.

"Bella."

Because they're fish.

"Bella!"

And that's what fish do.

"Bella!"

"What do you want, Smantley," I snap.

"It's Stanely!" she snaps back.

"That's what I said!" I yell back in chorus with the bell that signals for first period. I quickly shift my features into a friendly smile, "Great chat; let's do it again sometime!" I chirp, quickly gathering my books and walking out the door.

~ Madison ~