Chapter 1: The First Fight

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 215

I woke up realizing that I was approximately thirty minutes late for school. Neither my mother or father was home, which I found quite a bit odd. My mother is at least home in the mornings because of my one-year-old little sister, Dañela. Mama is a stay at home mom ever since I was born. I was an indigent baby, I suppose. Papa was an accountant at the local Mexican grocery store because that was all of the work that he could find after we moved to America. I rush to put on some tore up black denim jeans with a black tank top and red and black plaid long sleeve button up grabbed my homework and backpack and rush to school.

 It took me about ten minutes to fully sprint to my school. My school, the gravest high school in all of history, isn't that far from my home. I had walked into the school door in enough time to be in my first-hour class on time. My first hour was English with Miss Jackson, who was the worst English teacher you shall ever have met. I sit in the back of the class because nobody will bother me back there. I like to do my work alone because then I don't have to deal with the stupidity of others and the ideas that may sound good in the moment but are really not going to get us a good grade in the end.

 I grab my library book, Rot and Ruin by Jonathan Maberry and start reading the book. At the commencement of every English class, we ought to read something. I mainly read science fiction because it gives me something to think about. Science fiction could become real through science, hence the name of science fiction. Rot and Ruin is a book about the post-apocalyptic world, and I will say that it's nothing similar to The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman. I feel like both could be a likely conclusion to life as we know it. I don't see the apocalypse happening in at least my lifetime, but I do think that it will happen eventually.

 "Alright class, please put down your books and look up at me."

Miss Jackson stated.

 "Now that we are done reading Shakespeare's Macbeth, I have a project for you. This half of the class," indicating my half of the class, "will write your name on a piece of paper that Miss Branwell is passing out. Once you are done, please come and put it in this dish. Then the other half of the class will come up and draw a name from the bowl. After your partners are chosen, I will then explain what the project is," Miss Jackson concludes.

 When I conclude the task that the teacher had given me, she indicates for the rest of the class to grab a piece of paper from the bowl on her desk. I see about fifteen kids go up to the teacher's desk and scamper back to their seats. Miss Jackson normally has a scrap of paper and pairs us kids up that way. After the other group gets their paper, the teacher decides to make an announcement.

“Okay. Now that you all have your partners, I would like you to get in touch with them and figure out how you will do this project. With your partner, you will have to make some type of presentation about the whole book and how it can relate to your everyday life. We have at least twenty-five minutes left in class. Get to work!”

Great. I won’t know who’s my partner is until he or she walks over to me. I sure as hell hope it’s not Karen Black. Ever heard of the freshman that got passed around the football team? Well, that was her. Karen had sex with the whole football team during her freshman year, and now that she’s in her senior year with me, she is starting to make her way around the soccer team. Sophomore year it was the baseball team, and her junior year was basketball. I’m surprised that she hasn’t gotten an STD yet. I know it’s not my business, but I kind of hope that she does get one. I was friends with Karen up until our freshman year. We used to hang out in the pond behind my house and pretend we were in the ocean. There was sand around the lake, so we made sandcastles and such. It was a fun time when we were about seven or eight years old. We got to middle school, and things started to slightly change. Karen and I started to hit puberty, and while I’m still a part of the itty-bitty-titty-committee, she had grown to a - let’s say, to be nice - rather large rack.

Then the realization of high school came and she magically became the most popular girl and was transferred around each team the highschool possessed. While Karen became the most popular girl in my freshman year, she and I had become distanced from each other. It was as if our years spent together didn’t even matter to her. I texted her one day in my sophomore year and Karen claimed that I hadn’t responded to any of her texts and she then deleted my number and had forgotten who I was. It was the worst thing that had happened to me, at least friend wise.

My partner walked over to me, and let me just thank the heavens that it wasn’t Karen. If I ever got the chance to punch her, I would. My partner was Cruz Diaz instead. He is probably just as bad as Karen. Yes, he didn’t go around screwing the football team, but he is always doing something to get a detention or suspension. Cruz isn’t even in the class half the school year, it’s that bad. He gets in fistfights, creates problematic food fights, and always seems to graffiti the school. I don’t know how his parents deal with him; he seems so questionable!

I glance at Cruz and he starts to talk about the project.

“Hey, Sophi. Did you have any ideas on what to do for the project? I was thinking we could possibly do a jeopardy board and have a few of our peers be the contestants. What do you think?” he inquired.

It sounds like something that nobody else would even think, and while it’s a good idea, I really didn’t want to follow him. I mean, what if he dragged me into his way of life?

“That is a good idea, but what would the categories be? We might be able to look back on our tests and get the categories that way.”

“That is a good idea. I’m going to go ask Miss Jackson if I can look at the tests for categories.”

He walks up to the class and discuss our ideas for the project with the teacher. He seems like a different person than what I know. I always thought that Cruz was a bit of an asshole, doing the things that he does and getting all of the detentions that he does. People can’t change; they never do. I don’t think that this individual is any different.

He comes back with a stack of papers. I hadn’t realized that we had that many tests over Macbeth. He gets back to me, hands me half of the stack of tests and quizzes and asks me to look through them for some category ideas. I look through the first five before my sworn enemy walks up to me and whispers something in my ear.

“So, the felon and the nerd are paired together. It’s a shame she isn’t by herself because you’d probably have the project done by now…”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“You heard me.”

At that moment she pissed me off so bad that I stood up and threw a punch her way. She didn’t throw one back, but she kinda just plopped on the floor, and on purpose. I kinda just stood there for a minute, wondering what the fuck just went down. I go to punch her again, and then Cruz yanked me away from her, only to punch her again! I wasn’t expecting that at all. Maybe that is how he gets all of his detentions? I’m not sure, and I honestly don’t want to know. I just want to get this project over with so I never have to talk to Cruz again. Miss Jackson walks in when the third punch is thrown by Cruz and tries to get them apart, but fails.

I suppose that Mr. Miller heard about the fight or heard it from his office because he walked about thirty seconds after the teacher had come inside the room. Miller had asked for the two to go with him into his office. I narrowly escape the hell that was supposed to be for me, but instead was for Cruz and Karen. Cruz left his stuff here. I’ll drop it off at the principal’s office before I go to algebra, which is my next class. I finished going through my stack of tests, so I get started on his.


Submitted: December 11, 2019

© Copyright 2021 Emma Leigh Hall. All rights reserved.


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