Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Coke Bottle Feline ❯ Disbarring Kitty ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disbarring Kitty

Time was slow going while hours turned into days, and days turned into a week. Winds ripped through streets, and temperatures decreased at a logical rate. I was not going to the school at night as much, it was too intolerable to walk there without the luxury of a vehicle. I was sensitive to the cold, and a few degrees had a great significance.

About the school, the day after the spray paint incident, all went well. Mr. Raptor checked the tape, but did not manage to spot anyone coming into the building or going out. A mysterious janitor 'edited' the tapes to hide my entrance, and exit. He didn't have to, but he insisted that he would because I might have made a mistake, somewhere along the line. In reaction to this displeasing development of not finding the perpetrator, there was a thorough locker sweep, without warning or telling what the invasion of privacy was for. The druggies, and perverts got anxious that they would find their narcotics, or raunchy magazines . They didn't have to be concerned, since the teachers were given strict instructions to only search for spray paint cans, and examine everywhere possible that it could be. Martin was called in to do the inspection, too, but wasn't the least bit concerned. He unlocked, and shut the lockers, knowing the culprit wouldn't be found like this. When all the students that had silver, and gold paint were rounded up, which were quite a few, and brought to the office. In the end, no one was punished, and life went on as usual. Mr. Raptor had volunteers repaint the wall, myself included, and no harm was done. Martin told me of the personal turmoil our principal went through, and that brought us both great delight.

Back to the present tense, it was after lunch, and time for a class that legally lets the strong beat on the weak. The moment I joined the group already in the changing room, it was misery. �Yo, Pussycat. Aren't you sad you're lover isn't here? I bet you love his hot bod, with those rolls.� Lover was referring to Alex, since we're together so much. This was barbarous, making jokes of a friendship. My tormenter was taller than me by few inches, and had moderately bulging muscles. I could beat him in a fair battle, but he wouldn't fight without cheating, and I couldn't show him, to have my normality blown.

I shouldn't be bothered, but I can't avoid my anger. I'm sensitive at times to what people say. �Leave my soul at peace.� I replaced my long sleeved shirt for a light, black tee-shirt , and jeans for knee length, white shorts.

He looked bewildered, not expecting that sort of answer. �No.� It was a weak response, but it blew my words away.

I paused while I pulled on my sneakers, and speedily tied them. Standing up, I said, �Okay then. See you in class.� I stretched, and serenely traveled into the arena.

Speechless at my sudden surrender, the boy who had mocked me had still not changed, and gaped.

I preferred to call the gym an arena because it was like throwing untrained gladiators in the Colosseum with a vicious lion. As one can assume from my simile, the weak are the gladiators, and the jocks are the lions, but things, at times, are best described.

Inside the gym, students were herded together, and the two gym teachers blew the whistle simultaneously to get attention.

Our teachers were brother, and sister, Mr. Fure, and Ms. Fure. While one could guess that the female would be 'good cop', and the male would be the 'bad cop', but they were both 'bad cop'. They favored the strong, and felt no pity to the weak. If a girl were tripped by a strong guy, the girl would be punished, and the guy would be praised. Their punishment consisted of detention for a week or so, and made to do rigorous painful exercises. 'The Devilish Twins,' as they had been promptly nicknamed, were like a nasty version of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Mr. Fure had thick muscles, from lots of weight training, and long, scruffy black hair. His features were pointed, and unattractive, making him look repulsive, even to a mutt. His eyes were the color of mud, and his pupils were constantly dilated. Ms. Fure was an identical match, but a touch more feminine. When I say a touch, I mean like a hairline distance between the twins.

Dodgeball was their torture of choice for this day. They chose who they wanted on their team, and everyone else was to fend for themselves. Without saying, The Devilish Twins chose the best dodgers, throwers, and general best athletes, for their own satisfaction of defeating the 'other team'. The 'other team' was the destined predestined looser in the whole ordeal.

I was on the 'other team', with a few other outcasts, and wimpy preps. The wimpy preps were girls who weren't good at sports, with manicured nails, and enough makeup to create a full oil painting. They texted the entire class, and came out of the class with a handful of contusions. The smart ones complained the twin's ears off until they gave in, and they switched teams. The 'other team' was smaller, and from my estimation, a 3:4 ratio.

With all explanations aside, the game had begun with one member after another of the 'other team' being knocked unconscious. I wouldn't let the 'other team' while I was on it, and could easily avoid each ball thrown at me. They aimed for the head whenever they tried to hit me, very predictable. All that was needed was to look like I was barely getting by, and nearly getting hit. I never got set on the benches, and was the last person on the court before time ran out, and the bell ended the classes misery. I passed under the radar in the changing room, and dashed out, missing the student that was harassing me earlier.

I ran to my locker to take my books for the next class, and nimbly passed potential aggressors that could lead to tardiness. I would not hear the end of it if I was discovered by my mother that I did not arrive on time to a class.

While I gathered what I needed, a small, brown envelope caught me attention. It was light, not containing anything other than, from my assumption, a sheet of paper. The paper was quite nice, with light green leaves, and tiny blue flowers pressed in it. It could have been expensive.

I shoved the delicate item into the mass of useless information, and traveled on to my last class, a study hall. A load of homework was what I wasn't looking forward to, but I had to do it at some point. The class was silent, and a teacher sat at her deck, scribbling notes, and marking tests with a red pen. Why do teachers always use a red pen? Why don't they ever use blue, or green, or yellow? Red is a vibrant color that catches your attention, but yellow is brighter, and more vibrant. Yellow is harder to see, at times, but if there was a thick marker, there would be no problem.

My mind jumped around, and I was basically procrastinating to read what was in the envelope. Something about it screamed, �Do not read,� though it had clearly put in my locker.

I read the heading on the back, Leo Onyx, don't mock my name, it's unique, but every name is. Please read, and consider my wishes seriously. It was written like how my family speaks, in an old manner. The handwriting was like a typewriter, with a little bit of curve to show the author was in all likelihood a girl.

Enclosed was a letter, written properly, in every sense of the word.

Dear Leo Onyx, October 19th

To begin, you do not know me to my liking, and I am hoping to change this. I care for you deeply, more than you are liable to ever know. So, to start this whole thing off, I would like to talk to you. Not face to face yet, but by phone. I realize you do not have one, therefore if you accept my wishes to know you better, I will give you a phone. Do not worry about the expense, I have plenty of money to spend, and I do not mind using it on you. Ultimately, I would like to go to the masquerade dance on December 20. That will give us about a month. Simply as new friends, nothing more unless you wish it to be. I am not one of those overweight girls that knows she will get rejected if they actually meet the boy they like. I am not terribly beautiful either, but I wouldn't think you would want someone too flashy. Thank for reading this entire letter, and please think about all I present. I will await your response in a letter tucked into the opening of your locker, mostly in so it does not fall out.
Sincerely,
Elsson

It was comparatively short, verses what she could have written, but not much needed to be said. She seemed like a pleasant enough girl, and this was a decent chance to forget about Emma. Genuinely caring for another would cure my love sickness, and make me happier overall. This Elsson person appeared to be my sort of person, and already, I dare to say, loved me, possibly to the obsession.

I made my decision, and after several minutes of deep thought, I would accept this offer. She had to be smart, to some degree at least, and modest. I can't stand girls who think they are all that, and are self centered. Most of them aren't, and look down on everyone when they are the ones that deserve to be looked down on. I'm not one to say who deserves what, but I can have my opinion from time to time, right?

Taking out a lined piece of college ruled paper from one of my binders, I took patience to transcribe my feedback.

Dear Elsson, October 19th\

I would like to take you up on your offer to talk with you. I may warn you, part of my motivation for doing this is that the girl I like happens to be my friend's sister, and I want to get her away from my heart. If you can look past that fact, I would be honored.

Sincerely,
Leo

With that over, and done with, I took out another same kind of lined paper, and made a improvised envelope from it. Every crease I pressed perfectly so it looked neat, despite being what it was.

Out of sight and out of mind, I worked on my art assignment that would be due next week. Every week, the teacher would give us two pages to make as artistic, and individual as possible. The best were put into compiled book that was enormous, and held hundreds of pages. I've glimpsed through the book that the teacher had named, �A Proud Teacher,� and it was rather impressive. I was not as artistic, and was not in the book, but Emma was. She had several pages inside, all insightful about life, and love, verses me who didn't have any. I couldn't do realistic as well as others, and I had the eye for it. I was better at abstract, and didn't have an eye for it. The abstract just finished better, but I couldn't see why. I never saved my paintings or drawings, always tossing them out or selling them. I got up to grab a dictionary to randomly select a word to start my project on.

The following day, after I had gotten off the school bus, a manila envelope was in my locker. A little excited, I rushed to my homeroom, a bit faster than usual. I had not thought I would get it so quickly. As I ran, I saw she had written, �Thank you.� I nearly bumped into teacher as I got through the door. She made the sound of the air being knocked out of her. Not caring, I sliced my package open with a pencil, and pulled the contents onto my desk. The package contained a brand new flip phone, and a note on a half sheet of lined paper. The phone was thin, sleek, and rectangular. It was silver in color, making it look modern. It felt nice in my palm, and couldn't have been cheap because of the fine quality. I read the note, and inserted my phone into my hideously colored pants.

Dear Leo,

Thank you for your acceptance. I have already put your new phone on silent, because I do not want to get you into trouble. I know the girl you must like, Emma Adelle, right? I'd like you to tell me her, so I know what I am up against. Please get to understand your phone, and feel free to give out the number. It is, 274-XXXX. Do not text me during class, I will not respond. You will receive a text from me at lunch, and after school.

Sincerely,
Elsson

I smiled at the note, and saved it, as I did with the other one I received from yesterday. I smelled the note, catching that it had a scent, and it was like roses; so lovely to my senses. I knew it from somewhere, but I was drawing a blank at the moment. It amazed me that it didn't smell like perfume, but like it was this girl's natural odor. Perfume made me ill, the fake chemicals make me sneeze, cough, and even regurgitate meals. If I were female, I wouldn't be able to handle the gym locker room. I can't get within ten feet outside of the girl's locker room without getting dizzy, and it would completely overload my senses, I might fall unconscious.

Perhaps I could identify her based on this, but she could have borrowed paper from another girl. I was proven wrong when the same scent came from my pocket where the phone was, and the manila envelope. I would let her keep her secrecy for a while, it would ruin her whole reason for doing it like this. Why put such hard work to waste?

I had a test, a quiz, and scores were over 98%. I couldn't be perfect all the time, right? I may seem cocky about my abilities, but that is only in my head, I wouldn't dare speak like this to anyone out loud, and I deserve some luxury for a moment. Thinking you're better than everyone else once in a while isn't that bad, is it? Never mind, just be quiet, and listen to my ramblings.

Anyway, lunch came before I could blink my eyes twice, and I found myself curious about the first text. �Di-d-did you k-k-kn-know t-that my sist-sis-sister bo-bough-ought a new c-c-c-c-ca-car?� Not the ideal conversation topic, but I could talk about it half heartedly.

I took a big bite of my greasy garlic pizza. With a full mouth, I said, �Huh, she did, what kind?� The mass of fatty calories slid down my throat, and plopped into my stomach. School food it tasty, bleh.

�U-um-ummm, a La-lamb-or-o-orghini Ga-l-l-lar-do-do.� The word he was not used to tumbled clumsily from his lips.

It took a second for my mind to edit the stuttering out of his words for me to realize what he had said, Lamborghini Gallardo. They were extensively expensive, about half a million, and no normal high schooler could afford that much. This roused my suspicion that she might have done illegal work. Another bite of pizza, and a drink of milk to help it down, was ingested. I conveniently gulped when he said her cars name. �Wow, how did she get that?�

I received the text I had been waiting for. Flipping it open, it read, �hey so tell me about y u like emma?�

Writing back, �its stupid i looked at her once and thought i want to spend the rest of my life with her idk y though� I was vaguely aware of Alex yammering about how the family who put her up for adoption gave her presents, and an allowance to pay for the fact that they didn't take care of her. They had money coming out of their ears, and were only concerned about making more. I would have felt sorry for her, but I was preoccupied trying to figure out the positioning of the buttons, and how to use them best.

The phone vibrated again with her reply. All my practice of learning text speak was coming in handy right now. �its not stupid love at first sight it is a gift for humans to feel such a strong emotion i hope i can live up to the sort of love u have for her.� It was a touching little text. A moment later, before I could even begin to reply, I received another text, like a side note. �lol i c u.� I darted my vision around to reach all corners, but I didn't know which girl it was. Females these days all have phones, makeup, and a high pitched voice so it is hard to tell the difference from one to another. One more quick text come, �haha i new u would luk around just want to c ur reaction�

I replied, �kinda scared me y do u like me� Getting betting using the keys, I fumbled less.

Alex cleared his throat to inform me that he required my verbal answer to his talk about Emma. �Oh, sorry, this girl gave me a phone, and I'm talking to her. I think that's really cool about your sister. Does she drive you to school?� I felt somewhat bad for not giving him my full attention, but there isn't that much that I haven't heard.

�N-no, she k-k-ke-keeps t-to he-hers-herself. S-she di-d-did give m-me h-h-he-her ol-old o-one. A ja-ja-j-jag-jaguar wi-with fi-five t-t-t-thousand mil-miles.� Wow, she was loaded.