chapter 7/

Day: Tuesday.
Mission: Go to school. Survive.

"Honestly, school isn't so unsurvival-ish." Becks frowned at me as we headed for our class. Mine was History and hers was French.
"Well, I don't know. It's just, you fit in well, better than I do."
"Riiiight," she drawls, "count how many peers I've got in this school."
I swept my eyes around the hallway, and noticed no one was looking at neither her nor me. "One?" I said, uncertainly, and disappointingly, as I lost the game.
She nods like it hadn't faltered her.
"And that doesn't bother you?" We were walking again. Sure, I admired Becks for her undying lack of attention to what people think of her, but isn't there supposed to be a term for 'inducing undying lack of attention to what people think'?
She shrugs. "Maybe. But I kinda learned from that."
Wow, what a great information. I have also 1/3 of my question answered. "Uhm, and?" I prodded on.
She tucks a strand of her hair behind her left ear. "Just that if you do care, it doesn't get you anywhere. Deal with it: Haters exist."
2/3 of my question.
"My friends used to see me as a freak. So what? I am a freak. I like reading, I hate american idol and I love eating greasy stuff, unlike those stupid crappy 'THINK-THIN' losers that have no appreciation whatsoever to food and just go whining about how their bodies are loaded with fats and cellulite.
Well, tell you what, they whine because they know they're otherwise from what they talk about -meaning they are perfectly aware they're stick-thin - and just whines for attention so someone could go all oh-no-you're-not-fat,-I-am!."
I nodded, because I've heard enough of it, too.
"I just hate it when they go all boohoo on stuffs they know are not true. Like this girl," she stops to take a breath as my mind register at how angry she sounds now,"she has a boyfriend and thinks it's sucha big deal. She goes around like she's single, goes mingling, and when someone's friendly enough to approach and ask her if she was single, she'd go rant about how unlucky she is that no one wants her and blabla. Well, luckily, she was right. Her boyfriend was conveniently behind her and sent a slap to her face because he knew she was just trying to play the keep-me-i'm-sad-and-single game." For a moment, she looked smugged.

"Convenient, huh? Why do I have this gut you're saying that convenient was really convenient?" I sent her a slitting eye look from my side.
She smiled deeper, "I liked that guy, alright? And seeing him fall into the Evil Witch from the West is bad enough. And he doesn't know she's sucha slut?! Now, I'll have to step in and help him. And besides, if that girl hasn't been such a player, I wouldn't stand a chance to prove him right. Right?"

WHAT?
"Right." She answers her own question. "All in all, she brought it to herself."
OH!

We reached my class,and before she heads the other way, she asks me. "What're you planning to do later?"
"Maybe just checking out the dance club?" I said. I wouldn't tell her that the Class Pres thing is starting to bug me, like it was urging me to do something about it. Oh well, running for president really isn't just my thing.
She shrugs again, "Meet you at lunch. TTYL." And she walks away.
I opened the door to the class and takes a seat.
5 minutes to go before class starts. Some useless guys I've now known as 'useless' were playing paper planes.
Two guys were playing with a weaker guy's bottle, slinging it back and forth as the guy tries to grab it.
Poor guy.
Weak guy: Thomas.
Bad guys: Every other guy.
Weak guy + Bad guys = a sloth of unpleasant smell and a bowl of losers.
*
"Have anyone heard about the terracotta warriors in China?" the teacher asked, her specs sliding down her freckled nose. Her figure was a little plump, and she reminds me slightly of a peach.
This girl who has blonde hair and purple streaks - that she tries to cover - raises her hand, and the class applauds for her knowledge.
"Good, Yvette." The teacher, Mrs. Languistan (we really just call her Mrs.L) smiled. "Now, for all you rest, the Terracotta Warriors are in China." She turns around, grab a white chalk and faces to the rest of the class again.
"Question is, what is Terracotta Warriors?"
My mind went blank.
And I think the others were, too. But I'm always up for some China wonders, because they're pretty great.
I wonder if in the future, someone could invent the CHINA WONDER candy or something and zooms us great knowledge on all the Chinese invented, that would be awesome.
And stupid.
"Now, the Terracotta Warriors aren't exactly warriors. They're statues."
A mouthful of gasps came from the class, and I was included. Mrs. L smiles slightly. Maybe because she thinks we're absorbed to her, when really, we were absorbed in what she was saying.
"Before we get any further in that, let me tell you something about the first emperor of China. His name was Qin Shi Huang." I found it pretty funny how she pronounced it, because as an American-Chinese, she sounded pretty ridiculous. It was like she was saying, 'Chi-Si-Wang' in this really off-tune.
Being really silly, I laughed out loud and she stopped mid-talk, then turns to me as I slap my mouth shut. "Sorry." I mumbled behind my hand. She rolls her eyes and continued.
Ugh, rat.
"His real name, though, was Yin Zheng. What is so great of him, that he was dubbed in history, and is very famous for it? Of course besides that he is the alpha in the history of emperors, he has also done a whole lot of other things."
The class was quiet as she sat on the red velvet seat in front of the class, clears her throat, adjust her glasses, irritate us with her dilly-dalliness, and continues.
"He was crowned emporer when he was...." she stops and her eyes scanned every one of us. "Come on, guess."
Five hands shot up.
"Six."
Oh, come on.
"8?"
Nope.
"10!"
Please.
I raised my hands as Yvette raised hers.
"13!" we both cried out.
Don't ask me how I knew, but by the look of Mrs. L's eyes, it was pretty transparent she was hinting that Yin Zheng was younger and more witful than us. Not that she was any better.
"Good. Now, what did he do?
First: He burned all the books that his people owned, except books from his royal library. Anyone care to explain why? This is an easy question."
"Because he doesn't want anyone to outsmart him." Some guy said.
Mrs. L snaps her fingers. "Second: he buried all the scolars of intelligence, alive. For the same reasons."
Now everyone gasped again. I knew what everyone was thinking. Bury smart people alive!?
"Which proves to why we're not supposed to go to school!" The class turned around to see who said that, and saw a scruffy haired boy, folding his arms, his mouth pouted like he was the know-it-all.
"I mean, what if there was someone like Yin Beng, or whatever you call it, and he buries us alive? Because we went to school."
Mrs. L clearly dismisses his question, which leads to scruffy-boy's impatience, and he started annoying the whole class by gasping way over the top and making farting sounds with his hands.
"He also uniformed the Chinese words so that every Chinese only knew how to write a word in the same structure, as Chinese had a lot of structures back then...." she continues, her forehead creasing as she tries to concentrate through Scruffy-boy's antics.
The bell rang at that moment, and everyone in the class sighed as all of us knew we wanted to hear the whole story.
"Oh well, tomorrow then." Mrs. L announces, and turns away with her books clapped under her arms.
Now that History was over, we had exactly 30 minutes of free period to do whatever we want.
I walked to my locker, 708, and neatly compiled them from shortest to tallest before someone scared the sunlight out of me from behind. "What are you?" Becks slapped my hand away as I whined about what was wrong with arranging books according to height.
"What's wrong is that, it's just wrong! It shows that you're a neat freak, and neat freaks are not cool."
I rolled my eyes.
She links her arms with mine within second, bangs my locker door close and walks in stride with me. "Let's go ask for some DCT!"
"DCT?"
"Dance club thingy. Catch up, will you?"
*