I Don't Know How To React To This...
A/N
Hey future readers, or I guess from you're perspective reader, or...anyways. Thanks for reading, hope you like. First time writer so please don't be rude in the comments, although constructive criticism is always welcomed along with any questions. Anyways, hope you like, so without farther ado...
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Knowledge is the one thing you can't take back. You can fake a smile and pretend they don't know you, that they don't know what's behind the wall you're hiding behind. But deep down you know that they can bust through that wall and they can see right through you.
All the building and smiles are put to waste all because of knowledge, knowledge gives people power over you. You fear that they will betray you and use that knowledge as leverage, that they wont accept you for who you really are. That they like the masked face rather than what's behind it.
So you keep up the charade, no matter how much it pains you. You walk around with a drawn on smile and plastic laughs fill your ears from others just like you. But what's the alternative? Put yourself out there even know you know they would be able to control you like a puppet if they knew the real you?
So you keep that mask on and make sure that the knowledge doesn't get out. Well, hears the real me, because I'm tired of the facade, it's sickening really. What sickens me more is that you are the worst out of all of them.
How do you like me now?
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I aimlessly stare at the ancient T.V, not paying attention nor caring what's going on in the school or in the world. Thinking about my various fantasies that allow me some escape from this supposedly lawful form of torture, when my attention is gained from the headline I subconsciously read on the screen. "... And yet another villain has orchestrated an attack. Over the last two years multiple, of what people are beginning to call "Super Villains," have been popping up throughout America, Mexico, and parts of Canada. Robbing anything from gas stations to banks. The most recent event has left ten dead and more than fifteen injured. By using his "superpowers," which looks like to be able to touch an object having it explode seconds later. Here's the footage of the suspect." Said news reporter Jessica Smith, a little to cheerful to match the tone of the incident she's reporting about. Although before the footage of the robbery showed, Mr. Dill turned off the student news.
In response, the class reacted and a few vulgar comments were traded, some too vulgar for even Donald Trump to be okay with.
Mr. Dill's first reaction resulted in him screwing up his animal like face, getting a fire lit and blazing in his eyes, although he immediately extinguished it and replaced with a sense of peace that only an ocean shore should be able to accomplish in such a short amount of time. Returning his face to his hideous goat like features. "Settle down class this has been happening the last few years, you should be sick of these segments by now. Now please open your text books to page 394, we are continuing from where we left off of yesterday..."
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"Can I go home now?" I groaned to my friend, Violet. In unison with my annoyed statement, I slouched. The reason I'm asking is not because she bosses me around by all means, just to complain and show her how much I hate this.
Ain't I just a great friend?
It seems as soon as I complained the wind picked up, resulting in Violets strawberry-blond hair to billow in the wind, creating the effect that her hair was fire. Corresponding with the anger plastered on her face.
Uh-oh... Nah! This is going to be fun!
"No! You promised you'll stay with me 'till drama ends. Plus, it's not like you'll be totally alone. You have Will to hang out with. You're also in set, you have to help out with actually building the sets." Violet hollered directly into my ear.
Oh she is sooo paying for that.Time for a little manipulation, maybe ice cream this time? Yeah. Ice Cream, let's go for ice cream.
"Ugh fine. But if I end up hammering my thumb, it's your fault." I said in an irritated tone of voice while throwing off my body language into one that portrays resentment.
The look on her face softens and I could practically feel the guilt that was building up in her. She hesitates for a moment as if she should really say this, and finally opens her mouth, "Deal. And if you end up getting hurt, I'll personally buy you ice cream."
My mouth twitched in satisfaction, my face muscles awkwardly contorting as I struggle to keep a straight face.
On the inside I internally lick my lips from the thought of my soon to be coming ice cream, "As appose to what? You not personally buying me ice cream and just buy it magically?" But on the outside I have to remind myself that she shouldn't know I just manipulated her. I restore my voice to it's normal self while perking up a little. Happy with my ingenious plan and quick wits that never fail to annoy and make humanity externally groan.
"Shut up." Haha... Sucker.
The rest of the walk to the theater was in silence. Let me explain, Violet kept bugging me that she was bored in rehearsal so I joined set to keep her company. However I've been busy building random sets while she's been rehearsing or ditching. Leaving me alone, with full awareness that I'm socially incapable of making friends. Especially as a freshman, everybody's like "Oh, hey Freshy." Then just give me some mediocre task such as building showers or ice cream carts or even sand dunes with nothing more than tires and carpets. The only friend I have there other than 'Ms. Leaves Alot' is Will. One of my closer friends I've had since 5th grade, and he's only there because I begged him to join.
We arrived shortly, walking in misery as my feet kept drag with my heart beat despite the knowledge that ice cream was promised. Now you may be thinking, "but she said only if you get hurt. There's no guarantee that you will get hurt." I counter with, you obviously don't know me, I constantly get hurt. One time I was walking as far away from the kickball game the class was playing as possible. Yet I some how managed to get hit in the head with the taunting rubber red ball, forcing me down into a rock that hit my temple and knocked me out.
Sadly we arrived at the performing arts building, walking through the forty year old lobby, through an unimportant minuscule hallway, pass the way to the nosebleed section and abandoned classrooms, under the the backstage door, and into backstage. Violet and I exchanged half-hearted goodbyes and broke off into our own miserable stations.
As usual I went to talk to Dylan, the head of set that assigns everybody there daily task. And as usual, he's sitting in his usual spot on the floor attempting for the thousandth time to make the paint even on a door older than me. "Oh, hey Freshy." Dylan said, "Can you build the teachers desk. I'm a little busy." He says without even looking up from his self-assigned fools errand. All while branding himself a plumber with his abnormally low pants and leaving him partially blind with his flat beak hat sagging below his eyes, interrupting his field of vision.
Does he realize there's an actual unused teachers desk in this building? "But-"
"The designs should be in the cabinet, it shouldn't be too hard." He cut's off, already shaking his head in annoyance.
To you too bud.
Biting my tongue, I hold back the many verbal assaults swimming in my mind, slithering through a crack in the mental cement and begging to be let out through my too big of mouth. "Actually I was going to say-"
Douchebag, I mean Dylans, arrogant spit of words cut me off with a harsh lash. "Look if you can't do it, I could just find someone who can."
You've got to be kidding me. I am much more capable than anyone in set including him, but just because I'm of below average height, a girl, and a freshman he thinks I can't do this task. Which by the way doesn't even have to be done because there is a desk we could use right upstairs.
"Well if you actually listen, I was going to say that there's probably a desk we could use upstairs with all the unused classrooms." I said in a matter of fact-ly way, pride put to simmer in my gut.
Dylan's face went from annoyed and an 'are you kidding me look' to an 'Oh... I should've thought of that,' expression. "Oh yeah. Just do that then. Take that kid Will to help you out. " He said as if he weren't just completely writing off every word I just spoke.
"Whatever," I responded. With that I turned my head to the general direction of a crowd of people and yelled. "Hey Will I need your help!" As soon as those words left my mouth a scratchy yet innocent voice yelled, "Coming!" along with a shortly cut brown head of hair popping in and out of the field of people doing absolutely nothing. Pfft... And they say I'm the one that's useless.
Out of the crowd comes the hyperactive, 5ft'3, nerd of a friend. I wait until he jogs over to start walking. "What are we doing?" he inquires, tilting his head in a fashion you'd expect a puppy would.
"Just going up stairs to find the lightest desk to lug back down onto the stage." I said as if it's easiest thing in the world.
"That's stupid. Why can't we just build one?" He complains while slightly drooping his shoulders down at those words.
In response I put my head down and sigh, while contemplating on giving up on life and crawl into the woods to get adopted by a pack of wolfs. Would I learn cross species communication if I do?
We make our way up the stairs and into the twenty foot long and narrow hallway. There's only two classrooms throughout the whole place and they're here.
"Remind me again why they put only two classrooms up here?"
"I don't know, honestly it was just a terrible idea. The hallway itself is too narrow to even fit three people, it's poorly lit, no vents, musty, dusty, constantly freezing, mold everywhere, and don't even get me started on what will happen in the event of a fire."
"That was a rhetorical question, Kendal." Will smirks, lulls his head back, and rolls his eyes all in a matter of an exaggerated second.
I unhinged my head from my neck, allowing it to fall forwards and stare at my feet actively trying to deteriorate the awkwardness I had created. "Just...Just shhhhhhhhhh." I say in defeat while petting his face.
I opened the door that looked as if the peeling paint was trying to reach out to us in hopes of escape. And out came the musk of forgotten papers, maps, and no dusting in over ten years. Not expecting the wave of dust the wash over us, I inhaled the same second. Immediately inducing me into a fit of coughing. While my eyes burned as if chlorine was just tossed into them.
To my embarrassment Will just laughed at me as I was dying of dust.
Death by dust, what an overwhelmingly perplex way to go.
The even more embarrassing part is that he was smart enough to not breath as I opened the door.
My lungs felt as if they were being sucked of all there moisture while I desperately tried to get rid of the dried up particles coating my breathing passages. My eyes were closed and starting to water. The only one of my senses that was working properly was my hearing, and the only thing that filled my ears was the hysterical laughter of Will. From the inability to know where I was and distracted by coughing, I hit my head on the side of what I'm assuming was a desk.
The sudden shock of the blow pulled me out of my trance of spewing my saliva all over the water-less classroom. I let out one last pathetic wheeze of a breath for good measure, blinked my eyes a few dozen times to remove the peppered lint embedding themselves in my eyes, and stood up straight.
Will was just barely coming out of his episode of laughter when he asked, "What's that all over your hands?" Again tilting his head in the way of a confused house pet.
In response I look down at my hands, and there I see the utmost obscure thing that I would've though to be on my hands. In this moisture-less, colorless, disaster of a geography room, I see some kind of metallic looking liquid all over my hands slowly dripping to the floor. Leaving only a web of the mysterious liquid spread throughout my hand. I knit my eyebrows together trying to think how I could've got this on me.
I look at the desk I banged my head on, nope. The floor other than the few drops I spilled on it? No. I then run into the hallways to look at the doorknob, the only thing I've touched since I've been here. And no, just a regular golden doorknob.
Out of habit, I knit my eyebrows out of confusion and look up at Will with what I could only assume was a look of being purely dumbfounded. "Did you put this on my hand?" I inquire, trying to figure out what is on my hands, and most importantly if it's poisonous.
He met my eyes, looked back at my hands, then met my eyes again. All he can manage was to barely shake his head. I guess he was as clueless as I.
I put my hands up to my face to get a closer look, trying to at least try to identify the liquid that somehow manged to appear on my hands. Seeing that it was obviously not water,
Wow, great detective skills Kendal! Real brilliant!
I looked closer 'till my hands were only a foot away from my face. Before I could react, the same stuff on my hands shot into my face sponding from the same direction of my hands.
Scratch that from my hands.
Instead of taking a few paces back, moving my hands aside, yanking my head out of the way, or anything else a normal human would do, I did nothing less then closing my eyes, mouth, and let it spray me for a good few seconds. As fast as the stream started, it stopped, leaving only the signs that a leaky faucet would leave behind that my hands just squirted out... Who knows what.
Seconds after it stopped, I move my hands away and turn my face to Will, hoping for... I don't know. Something. Anything. Any possible thing for anybody to say to break the ice of 'Hey, I just got shot in the face by some kind of liquid coming from my hands.'
"What the fu-" Before he could finish his sentence, my hands started spewing more liquid. Splattering all over the ground, bouncing off of different surfaces it lands on, leaving patterns like cracks behind.
It stops.
It starts.
It stops.
Starts again.
Almost like it's teasing me.
Jerk.
Flickering on and off as if a child got a hold of the switch and is desperately trying to turn on a light, I wave my hands in all directions, attempting to get control of my hands. Destroying the maps, desk, carpet, and roof. But the streams are like firetruck hoses, impossible to control unless you have the right leverage and any type of upper body strength (which it just so happens I have none of.) I temporarily slip on the stuff while my hands squirt like water jets, but just from that second of a loss of balance, cost me falling straight down. Mid fall I stop, a pulse sends threw my arms and my head traces the previous path of my feet, I flip, sending my already confused cranium into the stained carpet at top speed.
Everything stops.
My brain felt like it just sneezed.
I taste copper in my mouth.
The burning in my arms ceases.
I, being me, slowly stand up. Put my hands to my sides, and lock them there. Not daring to even twitch a finger. In the distance I vaguely hear heavy steps down the hall, I decide to ignore it just cracking it up to be my imagination.
"Um... I don't know how to react to this." I slowly state, like if I move my tongue the wrong way I'll explode, staring at my black running shoes. Not even testing fate to move my legs.
"Why don't you just... Sit down." Will says, coming into sight and gestures to a seat, coming to eye level like a child's entertainer would.
"What the? WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE!" An abnormally ear piercing screech shrieks.
We turn our heads, and see an enraged Dylan. Smoke coming out of his ears and all.
Will and I exchange looks, and I see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. I internally choke, unable to say anything, unable to move.
Is he actually going to tell? What if he does?
He opens his mouth to speak.
I'm dead.
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