We're finally going to have another Karen chapter! Whoot! Hers and Firkle's classes and teachers are slightly different from the older kids, but you don't get to see Firkle's classes yet. Also, Rider is in one of Karen's classes because he's pathetic.
Chapter 8 – School is for Conformists
Michael, Pete, and Henrietta were lucky. They had all their classes together while Firkle and I didn't know anyone. I know being here was my own fault but it still sucked. I really wished Firkle and I were in the same grade. Then we could've had classes together. I always hated being alone.
I reflected on this as I stepped into my first class, English. My teachers didn't seem nearly as bad as my older friends' teachers, but they were still a little looney. My English teacher was of those looney teachers.
For starters, she was Russian, so that didn't help. And she had a really thick accent and talked about conquering all of America "for Mother Russia." She did plan to teach us about English literature, but she kept mumbling about how "Russian literature so much better."
She also goose-stepped around the room and carried a riding crop wherever she went.
My next class was math, which was a little better, the teacher was normal enough, it was just really boring. But history was where it got interesting. I had the same history teacher as the others, Professor Slackjaw, and boy was he weird! I don't normally like to say mean things about other people, but he was just so odd! I couldn't take my eyes off that neck!
Also, as I had told my friends, that greaser guy, Rider, was in my class. Slackjaw forced him to sit in the back corner for some reason, while everyone else sat where they liked. I arrived slightly late, so the only desk left that day was the one next to Rider. I didn't like it, but I had no choice but to sit next to him.
On the third day of classes, Slackjaw was rambling on about Norse history (wasn't he supposed to be teaching us American history?) when Rider leaned over to me.
"Hey there," he greeted, "The name's Rider."
"Yeah, I know who you are," I muttered.
"Rider couldn't help but notice you," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "and he likes what he sees."
I unintentionally started blushing at his words. I didn't want him to think I was easy, but no had ever really complimented me before, and I had to admit it was flattering.
"Um, thank you," I murmured.
"Hey, how about after this class you and I blow this joint?" he suggested, "Just skip the rest of these lame-o classes. Whaddya say?"
I considered it. Well, the point was to fail out of this school, wasn't it? And skipping a few classes here and there would probably help. I gave Rider a tiny smile.
"Um, sure ok," I replied, "Er, these classes are so stupid."
I barely listened to the rest of Slackjaw's ramble as Rider leaned back in his seat, looking cool. Afterwards we didn't go to our next class. Rider took me out behind one of the buildings where it was dark and quiet. No one would bother us here.
"Hey, you got any smokes?" Rider asked me.
"Uh, yeah I do," I replied. I dug into my purse and pulled out a slightly bent carton of cigarettes. The box had seen better days, but the goods inside were still usable. I took one out and handed it to Rider before taking one for myself.
"Here, let me light that for ya, babe," Rider offered, flicking open an expensive looking lighter. I grinned bashfully.
"Thanks," I said.
"I never did get school," the guy told me, "I come from the wrong side of the tracks, and none of the teachers ever liked me. That's why I was sent here. To 'straighten up.' A lot of good that'll do." He spat out a wad of gross spit.
"Yeah, I've lived in poverty all my life," I said, "School is hard for me because everyone picks on me. But my school was definitely better than this sucky place!"
"Heh! True that!" Rider agreed.
We finished up our cigarettes and took off. Rider showed me around the school, showing me where I could hide if I ever got in trouble and the best places to ditch class. I've gotta say, he was way cooler than I first thought he was.
After all the classes were done for the day, I said good-bye and went to find my friends. I didn't have to look very hard, as I found them on top of our dorm roof. Pete was laying on his back, staring up at the sky, while Firkle was leaning over the edge throwing tiny pebbles at people. Michael and Henrietta were simply sitting and smoking.
"Hey guys," I greeted them. They gave me the barest of acknowledgements. I sighed and went to sit next to Pete. "How was your guys' day?"
"Like you need to ask," Pete muttered, "Terrible, of course."
He threw a weirdly angry glance at Micheal and I wondered what had happened to make him upset. But it wasn't my place to ask, and goths weren't supposed to care. So I tried not to.
"I've been thinking," Henrietta said, "Do you think they would care or try to stop us if we tried breaking out and making a run for it? They wouldn't care if five students were missing, right?"
"As long as we bring enough cigarettes, I'm totally for a breakout," Firkle replied, sitting up, "They can't keep us here forever!"
Michael clicked his tongue. "I don't know, sounds risky," he muttered. I noticed Pete roll his eyes.
"Fine," he muttered, "Stay here and waste away and be turned into a preppy conformist. The rest of us are getting out of here and heading back to South Park."
"So wait, we're really doing this?" I asked, growing excited.
"We'd have to plan very carefully, but I say let's go for it!" Henrietta rallied.
"Yeah! Let's get out of this shit hole!" Firkle exclaimed. Michael sighed.
"Fine," he relented, "But you better know what you're doing, Henrietta."
"When have I ever not known what I'm doing?" she said with a grin.
Holy shit! Why did it take me so long to write this? I've been having life issues that I'd rather not go into, and my inspiration, motivation, and creativity have been lacking for a long time. It was just so hard to care for a while. Sorry for the short chapter, hopefully my sister will make up for it. And thank you to anyone who's stuck around waiting for us to update. Sorry again!