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I guess I should telll you who the hell I am before I tell you what happened in Art3. My name's Jewlelly Sutton, yes, my first name's Jewelly. Everyone calls me Alex, though, because of the character I made up in a fan-fiction story. I've also been called Jen, but not as much as Alex or Jewelly. Most people just call me 'weird' which works well for me because I figure they can all just go to hell.
Anyway, I'm an eleventh grader and I'm not about to tell you where I'm going to school. Nobody is that stupid.
So, I guess you'll want a description of what I look like then won't you? Very well.
I'm five feet eight inches tall, white (but I've been deemed black by several different people), have short dirty blonde hair and have dark brown eyes. People've told me I'm busty, and I agree because some of the girls at my school have chests that rival paper when it comes to flattness. I have long legs to, and I like that. They make me look taller.
If you're wondering, I do wear V-necked shirts, aswell as baggy pants, or tight tank-tops that have stuff like 'Give peace a chance' written on them. Also, a wide varity of socks. Above all, though, I like to wear hats. I have a wide selection of hats, fadooras, bareas, an even a Islamic gentelmens hat. But I don't wear too many of those because my school gets pissed when they can't see your face in their stupid security camreas.
Well, that about wraps up me, tall, boods, legs, eyes... Yeah, that's me.
So, back to what happened when I turned around in Art class.
I wasn't taking art as a major, I'm more of a literary media person, but I was taking an art class because I do like to draw. Unforunately, the art class to took was being taught by a teacher called Ms. Corman, and she was known to be one of the worse and most annoying people in the school. She wasn't a big lady, but she had a poor sense of style, and would talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and when you inturrpted she would scream, and scream, and scream, and scream.
Needless to say, I wasn't happy. No one was saying anything funny because it go in the way of Ms, Corman's never ending speech, and she wasn't even teaching us anything to do with drawing. So, all togther, the class sucked.
So, it was me at a table in the corner with a couple of guys named Mike and Eric. They're pretty cool, and when they get a chance to talk they make the funniest 'p***y' jokes. It takes all of my will power not to laugh when they mumble the jokes back and forth. I get the feeling they know I'm gay, and that they really don't care unless me and another girl doing it is taped. They just strike me as those kind of guys.
Anyway, Mike and Eric (Everybody calls him 'Er-ik' cuase that's the way he pronouces his name) and me are sitting in the corner. The room's kinda small, but that might just be in comparsion to Ms. Corman's a**. I don't think I said this earlier, but she has a habit of bending over and everyone looks away. Her butt rivals the Milky Way in size, and she wears these pants that have buttons on the backs that look like eyes when she bends over.
Scary, huh?
So, us all at a small table, Mike and Eric spaced out and me just looking around the room blankly. Then, Ms. Corman stops talking. We all look up to find the cause of the silence, and maybe applaude the distraction.
I look over at the door to the classroom, which has Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' painted poorly on it in pastelly colors, and my stomach tightens awkwardly. There was a girl standing at the door, with dark honey-brown skin and these big cornrows in her hair. She's got a ponytail too, but I'm not sure if it's fake or not. She had the cheekbones of a cat, and small dark eyes. And very full lips, the kind you want to touch with your own lips. I look her over, and she seemed to be about my hieght, maybe a little shorter. And, for some reason, she had this big choker necklace that was made to look like a spider's web.
"Ah! You most be Carla Jones!" Ms. Corman says in her weirdly high-pitched voice. The girl looks at the class, and adjusted the red jacket she's wearing. I've always liked the color red...
"Uh, yeah." She had this voice, sweet and lilting, but strong and impowered. My stomach knoted up again, and I shifted around in my chair.
"Alright then! Take a seat."
The girl, Carla, looks around and head towards the empty chair at our table. She pulls out the hard plastic seat and sits down across from me. I try to keep my eyes away, but I can't help thinking she's looking at me.
"Hey," Mike started in his deep voice. Him and Eric are pretty big guys, so they both have deep voices. "So you're da new girl, huh?"
"Yea, I'm Carla." She didn't extend a hand or anything like that. People don't shake hands alot. Still, I wanted to touch her drak skin more than anything. The only thought going through my head was,s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t! I'm not interested in the new girl! I CAN'T INTERESTED IN THE HOT NEW GIRL!
It wasn't going to be an easy start to the year.
 Ninja Night Kitten · Sun May 04, 2008 @ 12:12am · 0 Comments |
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