old: Je Meurs Pour Toi

"Miss. Adams? Miss. Adams?"

I snapped out of my reverie to find the whole class silent, excepting the snickers coming from Isla and her posse.

"Miss. Adams, is it really that hard to concentrate?"

My elbows were propped up high on the table, with my chin resting in my palms. Blinking, I gingerly lifted my head off my hands, and looked up to the teacher.

"Er... Yes, sir?" I asked him hesitantly, trying to sound apologetic.

Mr.  Johns was a tall man, towering over not only the students, but the teachers as well. And he was fit; to say any different would be full out lying. It was obvious the guy went to the gym often. Black hair, tan skin, Spanish heritage, blue eyes;  Yes, he was ‘pretty’.

And also yes, he had the personality of a pig. I do NOT like him; he seems to hate me the most, who knows why?

Of all the teachers, we had to have Mr. Johns last thing on our last day!?

"Miss. Adams!"

My attention snapped back to the class. By now there were muffled giggles from all around the classroom.

I could feel my face slowly heating as embarrassment stained my cheeks.

"Jordan," Demi hissed to me, "snap out of it!"
"What?" I blurted. "I mean, erm...uh…" I turned to the teacher.
"Yeah?"
His ice-blue eyes narrowed.
"You mean, 'yes, sir', right?" he amended for me angrily.
"Yeah, sorry," I corrected myself abashedly.
Everyone was staring at me, I noted in humiliation. Like vultures, I thought wryly.

"Yes, sir?"
He nodded stiffly.
"See me at the end, Jordan. As for the rest of you, pack your things away," he announced to the class.
As everyone slowly began to pack away, a murmur rose in the classroom. Everyone was SO excited about the holidays. But then again, I'm not everyone, am I?
"Jordan Adams?" Mr. Johns called. I glanced up again, surprised to see him sitting back in his chair. He saw me look at him, and he made a motion with his hand to the blackboard.
"Would you clean that, please?" he asked me.

"Sure," I mumbled, standing up obediently.

The rest of the class took that as a sign that class was officially over, and they left their seats and wandered around the room, knowing that the last ten minutes of the lesson could be spent gossiping with their friends.

Trying hard to refrain from smiling at the cliché-ness of it all, I grabbed the board-wiper, and proceeded to rub at the scratchy blackboard.

Flooms of powdery stuff – the evilness of chalk – flew at me as soon as I started scrubbing, getting into my eyes and mouth.

Ew! It tastes absolutely disgusting!

I started coughing fitfully, and soon I had to bend down. For God's sake, this is ridiculous, I thought as I put my hands on my knees to stabilize my body. I’m dying of a spluttering fit.

I heard Demi giggle as she quickly made her way to me through the desks.

Her hand started patting my back, and I put a hand out to her shoulder to help haul my upper body up.

"Choking on chalk powder? Seriously?" she laughed. I tried to get out a comeback, but all that came was more coughing.

All I could do was glare at her feebly as she laughed even harder.

"Classic Jordan," she giggled.

Finally recovering from the deadly attack of the throat ticklers, I turned around and went back to cleaning the board.

"Yeah, well, I may have almost collapsed at the sight of white poofs, but at least I remembered to wear the rest of my uniform to school," I said to her over my shoulder.

"Huh?"

Finally done with the blackboard, I returned the cleaner to Mr. Johns' desk. He nodded at me and said, "No need to see me when the bell rings. Just pay more attention next year, alright?"

I smiled at him and nodded. No matter how much he hated me, I had to admit, he was an okay guy.

"Hello! Jordan, what do you mean at least you remembered to wear your uniform?" Demi moaned from beside me, shaking my arm as we made our way back to our seats.

Our side of the classroom was mostly empty; everyone had gone over to Isla's desk.

Stupid Isla. She was such a moron. I just couldn't see why she was so popular-all she did was annoy ME, but for some reason everyone seemed to like her.

No, I’m not jealous!

She’s just such an id10t!

As if right on cue, she let out a massive laugh, her high voice booming across the classroom.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, nodding my head in her direction for Demi’s benefit before pulling out my seat, and sitting down, not bothering to tuck it back in. My legs were sprawled out in front of me, blocking the desk from my reach.

Demi daintily perched in front of me in my desk, re-arranging herself to get comfortable.

She shot a glance in Isla's direction, not that Her Royal Highness noticed, and then nodded.

"Yeah, I totally get what you mean," she mumbled to me in a slightly hushed voice. "Looks like she forgot to put the last twelve inches of her skirt on this morning..."

She trailed off as Isla stood up, and literally SASHAYED her way to the front of the classroom and to Mr. Johns.

"Mr. Johns?" she crooned.

My eyes widened and I immediately turned to throw a look at Demi. She was wearing a look identical to mine. Isla was flirting with our flipping teacher!

Mr. Johns didn't even TRY to play along-I doubt he even noticed the way she was standing, with her butt and chest sticking out.

All thoughts zoomed right outta my head as Isla turned around, and bent down to 'tie' a shoelace. While wearing a mini – and I mean MINI – skirt. In front of a teacher 15 years older than her.

I heard the popping noise of Demi's mouth falling open. I had barely managed to keep mine closed by gritting my teeth in disgust.

Isla slowly stood up again, as if trying to... tease him?

To my secret satisfaction, Mr. John just blinked at her. "Yes, Ms. Hepburn?"

"It's Isla, seriously," she giggled. "Anyway, I was just, like, wondering what time it is, like, right now?"

She giggled again and I had to try retaining from barfin' up my breakfast.

Mr. Johns just rolled his eyes, and he instantly became my favorite teacher.

Well, not really, but still...

"There's a clock on the wall, Isla."

She smiled at him coyly.

"Well, yeah, but, like, I'm not that great at reading times, because it's SO far away. Do you, like, get it? And, like, I totally forgot my watch, like, this morning, like, I was a bit distracted, like, yeah?" she then asked, making the weirdest motions with her arms. "Like, it's too far away for me to, like, read it. Like, the clock, I mean."

"She should get a medal for that," I whispered to Demi, not taking my eyes off Isla. "I don't think anyone else will ever be able to pull off that many 'likes' in a sentence."

Demi snorted a laugh, but tried to turn it into a cough, and failed miserably. I smirked.

Mr. Johns was just staring at her, obviously in disbelief. Should I put him out of his misery?

"Oh, by the way, I, like, REALLY like your tie. I really really love it," Isla added on, batting her eyelashes.

Yeah, I think the poor guy’s suffered enough.

"Yo, Isla!" I called up to her from my seat.

She turned to me with an expression half-shocked that I had actually spoken out, and half-furious for interrupting her forced yuck-fest on the 8th Grade teacher.

“its 3 o’clock," I snapped at her in a bored, irritated voice. "Now sit down.”

She just stared at me, her over-glossed up lips dropping open slightly.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and the whole class jumped in surprise.

Mr. Johns was the first to recover. He hastily stood up, his arms fumbling slightly on the desk but none-the-less he stood his ground.

"Alright, well, it's been a pleasure to- Ah, who am I kidding? To be honest, I'm glad to get rid o' the bunch a' ya! But I'm not the best guy to take care of a class of 14 year olds anyway.

"Enjoy high school, kids. See ya!"

He was positively grinning by the end of it. If possible, my smirk got even wider.

Demi hopped off my desk-top, grabbed our bags, and went out the door, with me following suit.

Just as I passed Isla on the way to the door, I winked.

Her heavily made-up eyes narrowed.

"See ya next year, Isla."

I swear, she actually growled at me. "...Happy holidays, Jordan."

Yeah.

And there goes my good mood.

Holidays...

I glared at Isla and she smiled at me venomously.

Isla Hepburn is probably the most popular girl in the year. I hate to refer to her as that, but she is; at least, she gets the most attention.

It’s actually ridiculously cliché if you think about it. She’s the perfect little popular girl.

Curly blonde hair a few shades lighter than honey (poisoned honey, of course), with really tan skin. She was tall and her figure was seriously ‘mature’ for a 14 year old…

I bet she wears a push-up bra.

"Jordan? Aren't you coming?" Demi called to me from outside the classroom.

"Wh-what? Sorry, yeah, I'm coming," I called back to her hesitantly, giving Isla another hard glance before going for the door.

She sneered back at me, before turning and skipping to her desk; her skirt, of course, went swaying higher and higher as she did so.

I rolled my eyes, before following Demi out the door.

Demi isn't tall. Let's put it that way. She's 14 years old, and just reached 5 ft. She's always jumping around 'cuz she's so hyper, and she's got a slight tan, with darkish-brown hair which goes frizzy in the rain, but otherwise lies mercifully flat.

Lucky for her, it doesn't rain much here, in California.

Don't get me wrong though, Demi Leon is GORGEOUS! Seriously! Everything about her is petite – small waist, small features. Her mouth is always in an unconscious half-pout, which just makes her look adorable!

Her eyes are a warm dark brown, the polar opposite to Isla’s dull blue eyes.

"Why are you staring at me, Jordan?" Demi asked me jokingly, pulling me out from my mind.

"What?" I asked her innocently, following her tiny figure down the crowded corridor.

All the classes had been dismissed, and us Eighth Graders were always respected. This causes me to smile at the tiny kids around us.

Have fun at Galloway’s Middle School, I laughed at them mentally. You've got a long way to go.

"Yes, you were staring at me, Jordan!" Demi insisted, leading us to our lockers, which were beside each other.

"I seriously wasn't, Demi. I've got no idea what you're talking about," I giggled in the voice of an angel.

As she opened her mouth to argue, I winked at her, and she started chuckling.

I smiled while I reached for my locker, looking intently at the combination lock.

"Today," I said to it, "you will open for me without trying to k!ll me. Do you understand?"

“Yes,” a meek voice said.

My eyes widened. What the-!

"Lo-o-o-o-cker?" I asked the blue metal box in the wall carefully, my voice going high and slow in surprise. "Did you just talk to me?"

"Yes, I did!"

My eyes narrowed.

"Demi!" I moaned to her. "Dude, NOT cool!"

She burst into hysterics. "I"-laugh-"can't"-laugh-"believe you FELL for that!"

"Hmph!" I huffed, turning haughtily.

I grabbed the handle of the locker and pulled violently.

"You're so mea-Hey, OW!" I cried. The locker had hit me on the head. Again. Just like it did every OTHER time I tried to open it.

Demi just giggled harder, leaning against the open frame of her own locker as I hit everything I could in mine.

"You. Stupid. Thing. I mean, come on! It's the last effing day for me in this effing school, and you STILL aren't gonna be nice to me?" I moaned, genuinely heartbroken at the fact that the metal thing seemed to despise me so much.

"No! Of course not!" Demi managed to say through her laughter in the high voice of the 'locker' again.

I just rolled my eyes at her, grinning, before grabbing everything in it and messily stuffing it into my shoulder bag.

"Jordan, you know you're gonna crease something if you put all your stuff in like that?" Demi said to me as she primly turned back to hers.

"And I should care, why?" I asked her in humor. "Just 'cuz you're a neat-freak."

It was her turn to roll the eyes, and I laughed.

There was a lot of laughter going on today, I noted. Must be the fact that the living nightmare called Middle School is behind us.

"You know," Demi started as she picked up various books from her locker, "it might not be that bad. The summer camp thing, or whatever."

"It will be," I insisted.

She stayed silent, obviously expecting me to continue, but I didn't. Instead, I just stared into soon-not-to-be her locker.

Demi had everything sorted out in alphabetical order, with Art and Biology textbooks at the left of the locker and a row leading across the base. On the shelf above, she had organized every jotter by color. The orange math jotters going at the right, then the green english notebooks beside them etcetera etcetera.

I rolled my eyes again. Neat freak.

"Hey!" she defended herself, noticing my laughing look. "It helps, you know? Having it all organized and stuff. It's better than yours anyway," she insisted. "I don't DUMP everything in and forget about it!"

I shrugged, not even arguing.

She snorted at that, and finished packing up the remaining library books which were littered around the locker.

"But Demi, what're you gonna do next year?"

Finished loading everything into her back, she gingerly closed it, unlike me, who had simply slammed the stupid thing shut.

"What do you mean?" she asked, following me as I made my way the locker combination lock to the Student's Office.

"You know, how you have the thing all organized and crap?" I explained.

She nodded understandingly. "And crap."

I chuckled, before continuing. "Well, next year it's high school, right? What's it gonna be like there? We're not gonna have jotters and stuff, it's all notes on pads of paper, isn't it?"

She grinned at me devilishly. "I have an idea for that, too."

My eyes widened unbelievingly. "You're being serious? Don't tell me you're gonna be this weird sorty-outed person next year, Demi, you NERD!"

Ignoring me, she started 'explaining her theory on tidiness in high school' to me, aka trying to bore me to death.

"I'm gonna put the textbooks on the top shelf, 'cuz that's where..."

I zoned out soon enough, looking blankly at the mustard-yellow interiors of the school as we made our way to the Student's Office.

As soon as we reached to door, I pushed it open and glanced at Demi, who was STILL talking animatedly about numbering English notes or something.

"Demi, sweetheart?" I said sarcastically. "I really, really, REALLY don't care."

She just laughed, and followed me in.

The instant I walked in I was hit head-on by the heady scent of coffee. To be honest, I don't think I can remember the Student's Office NOT smelling of coffee.

It was the smell of teacher's break-times, and parent's meetings, and detention.

Trying my best not to breathe in deeply – I ADORE the scent of coffee – I strode up to the main desk, which basically separated the room in two.

On the other side of the room were two doors, one leading to the staff lounge where the teachers plotted their next form of torture on the students and the other door leading to Principal Jenkins Office.

It's rumored that once you enter that door, you never come out. I mentally scoffed.

Please! Give the poor guy a break!

Principal Jenkins is an old guy, 60 at the youngest, 400 at the oldest. He's also the sweetest, push-over-iest guy you'll ever meet, and he’s known to have a strange philosophic streak to his musings.

Behind the large wooden desk sat Galloway's Middle School's wonderful receptionist, good ol' Mrs. Watson.

B!xch.

I can't stand her.

She can't stand me.

It's really a very healthy relationship.

She looked up and smiled as she saw Demi. Her gaze slid over her to me, and the smile instantly disappeared.

I raised my eyebrows and smiled at her innocently.

All the teachers absolutely love Demi to bits. She's a Grade A, First Class, Kiss-your-a$$ student.

What a nerd! But I still love her.

Me, on the other hand...hehe....

Demi cleared her throat, not liking the look of seething hate Mrs. Watson was throwing in my direction.

I grinned wider, but stayed by the door, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed defiantly.

"Mrs. Watson?" Demi started sweetly, "I think we're supposed to hand these into the Student's Office as soon as school ended today, am I right?"

Mrs. Watson's face lit up like a lamppost, and she started gushing instantly.

"Yes, it is Demi, thank you. You know, I'm so glad the school has a pupil like you, I really don't know where we would BE without you! Honestly, the-"

"And so," Demi interrupted.

I choked back laughter, and they both threw me a dirty look. I put up my hands in surrender and went back to leaning against the wall.

"And so," Demi continued, "we're here to hand in our locker combinations."

"What?" Mrs. Watson babbled nonsensically. "B-But you don't need to, dear! Just keep them for next year!"

"Bu-"

"No, I insist!"

"But Mrs. Watson, you do-"

"Demi, really, keep them over the holidays. I know I can trust you to keep it safe.”

"But Mrs. Wa-"

"Demi, re-"

"DUDE!" I shouted, interrupting Mrs. Watson interrupting Demi.

They both closed their mouths instantly, blinking in surprise and turning to me with, in Demi's case, confusion and Mrs. Watson's case, irritation and wish for DEATH.

I rolled my eyes mentally. Put a sock in it, old lady.

"Mrs. Watson, I'm ever so sorry to inform you of this dreadful news, but I'm afraid I won't be returning to Galloway's next year," I said with a straight face (it was an effort) while putting on a snobby English accent. Usually I loved the accent, but right now it sounded hilariously rude.

I could see Mrs. Watson fighting the urge to shout out how that was BAD news.

"And either is Demi."

She gasped.

My grin widened instantly. I mean, seriously? You actually GASPED?

"So sorry for the bad news," I finished in my normal voice, returning to my slouched position with a satisfied grin to watch the drama.

"Demi," Mrs. Watson said quietly. "Is this true?"

She sounds like she's about to burst into tears, poor soul.

NAWT. She’s NOT getting pity from yours truly, mark my words.

Demi threw me a glance saying, 'what do I do now' over her shoulder. I shrugged, holding in my chuckles.

Her eyes narrowed, before she turned back to Mrs. Watson.

"I'm sorry, yeah it is. I'm in 8th Grade; I have to go to High School, Mrs. Watson."

She sniffed. The 40 year old woman actually SNIFFED.

O, god. Pathetic.

"But, erm..." Demi hastily added on. "Err... Just between us? You were my favorite teacher…erm, or words to that meaning," she said hopelessly in the end.

"Really?" the receptionist said happily, looking up. Teacher my ass.

Demi just nodded emotionlessly, obviously humiliated for having told such a massive whopper.

Mrs. Watson still wasn't convinced. "You mean that, really?"

"Yeah... I mean it," she managed to get out in a flat voice.

Mrs. Watson obviously didn't notice the dejected expression or depressed voice though.

"Oh, Demi! You don't know how much that means to me. I mean, I've always known that you were MY favorite, but to know that I will be the one you will miss, that I will be the one you will remember and think of when you think back to your time here in Middle School. It just warms my heart to such a de-"

Okay, this is getting ridiculous.

“-gree, I feel like I’m flying, honest I do, oh, Demi! We must keep in cont-”

I glanced at the clock-we've been in here for FIVE STINKIN' MINUTES! Okay, that decided it. I'm putting an end to this love-fest going on between Demi and Mrs. Watson.

"A'right, look here, Mrs. Receptionist. Demi. Is. A. Student. She also hates you," I started bluntly, shrugging myself off the wall.
Walking over to Mrs. Watson, I added, "She gets ANNOYED when you speak to her, we don't LIKE you. Get that into your freakin' mind, will ya?"
I then maneuvered myself around the stock-still body of my best friend, whose evils I could feel in the back of my head. I could almost hear her chanting, Shut up Jordan, Shut up Jordan, Shut up Jordan.
Hehe...
Shocking the two of them, I suddenly slammed my hand down on the table on top of the papers we were handing in.
I then slid them to when they were right under her pointy nose.
"Read it and weep, Mrs. Watson." I then grinned. "And no, you can't get me expelled 'cuz technically, TECHINICALLY, I don't even go here anymore."
I then pushed the papers all the way onto her lap.
"Bon Voyage, b!xch."

With that, I literally SPAN around on my feet, doing a little Michael Jackson move with my feet, and grabbed Demi's arm.

"Let's go, dude," I grinned, starting to pull her towards the door.

"Erm.... Jordan?" Demi said my name tentatively; as if afraid I was gonna expl0de.

I chuckled – Demi should be used to my bluntness. "Yeah?"

"Erm...."

She had a... a worried expression on her face?

Her eyebrows pulled together while she was biting her lip, Demi pointed behind me, to where Principal Jenkins' Office was.

"I hope you haven't spoken to all of your teachers in that manner," said a voice which was terrifyingly familiar.

Crap.

"Uh..." I said brilliantly as I turned around guiltily, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

I was all the way round before I could look up into two furious faces standing in the doorway of the Office, with the Principal behind them.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I mumbled.

Shizer.

My dad was standing in the doorway beside my mom with his hands in his pockets, looking formidably terrifying.

Usually, he has a half-smile on his face, which stretches into a full grin every few seconds, 'cuz the guy is actually that cheery.

His dark brown hair is always mussed up into a messy flop on his head, and his eyebrows are so bushy it made him look like he's always thinking hard.

His eyes are a really dark brown, and he always seems to have a bit of stubble along his chin, no matter HOW much he shaves every morning.

Okay, so that's what he's like usually.

When he's NOT stark ravin' mad at me for called a teacher a b!xch.

NOW, his eyebrows are pulled together, and his death stare would be enough to make the massive ball of glittery gas called the sun to stop shining.

Mom was standing beside him, looking even scarier, if that's possible.
Her hands were on her slim waist, her near ash-blonde hair sitting on her raised shoulders.
Her beautiful blue eyes were icy with anger and disapproval, her usually smiling pale lips positively emitting a growl from the ferocity of their scowl.

"Jordan?" she hissed. "Care to repeat that?"

I blinked blankly. What do I do, what do I do, and what do I do?

"Er.... I was, uhm ... saying bye to Mrs. Watson?" I said, my voice raising it to an insistent, hopeful and useless question.

Her eyes narrowed coldly. "What were your exact words?"

"Uhm... hehe...." I got out.

I love my parents to bits. But they are the scariest things in the world when they're angry.

"Demi?" Dad started, turning to my best friend, who was still paralyzed. "Would you help us? What did our daughter just say to the school receptionist?"

Demi said nothing; instead, she decides to start shaking, and clutches my arm so tightly I know for a FACT I'm gonna have a bruise in the shape of her hand-print tomorrow morning.

And of course, to make the already fatal situation worse, Mrs. Watson’s nasally voice interjects the conversation.

"Well," the witch began, "I was sitting here signing some end-of-year reports, when all of a sudden the door SLAMS open-"

I mentally scoffed. We didn't freaking slam the door-

-"And in walks Jordan, dragging along Demi beside her. And Demi sweetly asks to hand in the combination, and I accept them graciously."

This lady can spin lies faster than a spider could, for God's sake!

"And then, all of a sudden, Jordan stomps up to my desk, and tries to strike me, physicall-"

"WHAT!?" I interrupt loudly. "Are you CRAZY, woman!? I did NOT try to hit you!"

She just smiles calmly. "Of course you did, Jordan. Don't try and den-"

"Of COURSE I'm gonna deny it, 'cuz I didn't! If you really think I'd come within touching distance of YOU, you're off your frickin' rocker! That is, if your lazy a$$ can move that much!”

I could see Demi's eyes widen in the periphery of my vision.

Oops... Wrong this to say.

If it was possible, my dad's eyes get even wider.

And I could swear I just saw Mom's hands clench angrily.

Yuh-oh.

"And then," Mrs. Watson carried on smugly, as if I hadn't interrupted, "she started hurling abuse at me."

She knows I never did that. But of course, now that Mrs. Watson has a chance to get me in trouble, she's gonna meet it head on.

"You only came in to hear the last of it. And trust me, there's been worse, oh, SO much worse than what you heard," she continued happily.

“She's never really liked me much, I reckon. That's why, every time I see her, she swears at me. But of course, I don't want the child to get in trouble, so I don't report it, but to be honest with you," she said.

Her voice then dropped to a stage-whisper which was quiet enough to 'seem' private, but loud enough to let the whole room hear.

She said, "I've always thought she had some anger-problems."

At that, even MY mouth dropped open.

I could imagine my expression clearly in my mind-eyes wide open, mouth so wide it could catch flies, a faint tint of pink on my cheeks from pure humiliation at the ridiculous situation.

I swear, I’m gonnaMURD3R Mrs. Watson.

"And of course, I haven't mentioned the hate mail."

Yeah, Galloway's Middle School is DEFINITELY gonna have to start looking for a new receptionist pretty damn soon.

The she-dog then rambled on about how I'd sent her some 'upsetting' letters, with my name signed, and about how she'd burnt them in the hope that I wouldn't get in trouble.

Soon, my whole body was vibrating from Demi's quivering.

I jerked the arm she was clutching as a signal to cut it out. Honestly, my nerves are enough to deal with right now, I don't need hers.

Instead, she just shakes harder.

In the end, my mom is literally shaking as hard as Demi. But of course, Demi's doing it out of fear, and my mom just wants to rip me to pieces.

Slight difference.

Dad, on the other hand, stays calm and collected.

Cool as a cucumber, I'd even say.

Except for his eyes, which also hold the same want of dead-daughter as Mom's.

"So..." he says warningly.

All of a sudden, Principal Jenkins steps out from behind them, and gestures into his office.

"Jordan, Demi? Would you two please join me in my office with Mathew and Carmen?"

My parents simply turn and march into the room behind them.

Demi's the first to move, mercifully letting go of my throbbing arm and fleeing into the office.

I follow her with my head hanging, but not before I catch the look of victory from Mrs. Watson.

This is just a great way to end school this year. My parents are SURE gonna make going into high-school a WHOLE lot easier after this, aren't they?

Heavy sarcasm implied.

I step into the musky smelling room. Strangely, it smells of smoke, or ... cigars, even?

Something not like coffee. Which is NOT comforting.

The sound of the door being closed seems to remind me, for some WIERD reason, of the slam of a jail cell being locked.

This is just simply great.

Great...

"So..." Principal Jenkins said into the awkward silence. "How is everyone?"

Seriously? Dude, I'm about to die and you're asking me HOW I AM?

"Well, I could be better," Demi's meek voice sounded.

Of course, she'd say something, I thought. Demi can't resist a question by a teacher.

No, that's a bit harsh, another voice in my head countered.

Grandma's gonna be attending my funeral in a few days after my parents are through with me, I argued. I can be as frickin' harsh as I wanna be.

And NOW I'm hearing voices in my head.

Honestly, could this day get any worse?

"It IS a pity that all this mumbo-jumbo started the day we break up, isn't it?" Principal Jenkins added into the building tension.

Wait, no, the day just got worse. The holidays are next, a WONDERFUL time period in which to get punished.

And mumbo-jumbo-seriously, Principal Jenkins? Are you for real?

"So... I can’t' really think of anything to say," he finally let out.

I couldn't help it-my eyebrows rose in sardonic surprise. Really? That definitely wasn't made obvious by your random questions, or the fact that none of us have actually said anything, I thought.

Except Demi, the other voice in my head said.

You, I said to it mentally, can shut up.

O, God, I mumbled mentally, This is getting beyond sad.

Is it even possible to mumble mentally?

"Hello, Jordan?"

"W-what? Yeah, hi," I said, distracted from my thoughts by a hand waving in front of me.

"Dude, you totally zonked out again," Demi complained, her arm falling to her side again as I zoned in.

"Yeah... sorry..." I said to her, blinking a couple of times.

"That really is extraordinary," Principal Jenkins remarked, rubbing his chin.

I thought they only did that in spy movies.

"Thanks, but it's actually pretty ordinary," I smiled innocently. "So, we done here?"

Not waiting for a reply, I turned and made for the door.

"Awesome, well, I'll see you all late-"

"Not so fast, Jordan," my Mom said.

I stopped walking. Wouldn't have worked anyway.

"Turn around," Dad said, "and come here."

I turned around, not a hope in my heart of getting out of this crapball situation, and slouched back to my earlier position, in between Mom and Dad.

"I can't believe this. I just... O, God," Dad said, running his hand through his hair, a strange habit I've picked up from him.

"Jordan, where did you pick up that language?" Mom asked me emotionlessly.

Resisting the urge to shout that it wasn't a big deal and jump out the ground-floor window, I just stayed silent.

"I'm talking to you, Jordan," Mom added angrily. "Answer me!"

"Uhm..." I said intelligently. For some reason though, this seemed to annoy my mom and dad even more!

I should just keep silent from now on.

"Actually," Dad butted in, "I don't actually care where she learned to say things like that."

All of us turned to stare at him with open mouths, except for Principal Jenkins, who seemed to be enjoying my destruction.

""Mathew, you've got to be kidding me! She can't just go around SAYING things li-"

"Carmen," he interrupted her. "Let me finish, dear."

He then turned to me again. Uh-oh... so he HASN'T forgotten about me.

"We've bothered Principal Jenkins enough for today, wouldn't you say, Demi?" He suddenly sprung on her.

She let out a tiny yelp and jumped slightly.

"Wh-what?"

"I was just saying that I think it might be time to excuse ourselves," he said smoothly.

Crap. He's angrier than I thought.

He then turned to Principal Jenkins, who was just chuckling under his breath.

"Thanks for your time," Dad said to him, rather stiffly I have to admit.

Principal Jenkins just laughed, and said, "Don't go to hard on the girl, Mathew. She's only 14, after all. Of course," he added happily, turning to me.

"Your birthday is in the upcoming holiday, isn't it?"

My eyes widened.

I thought you were my friend, Principal Jenkins. Why? Why!?

He chuckled at my expression.

"Have fun."

Principal Jenkins turned around to his desk, and made to sit down.

Obviously, everyone took that as a sign to leave.

"Bye, Principal Jenkins. Nice to.... er, be educated under your supervision," Demi faltered, scampering out the door as fast as she could.

"What she said," I mumbled, resisting the urge to roll my eyes as I followed her.

This holiday was gonna stink.

Period.

As I closed the door behind me, I became aware of four gazes on me; Demi and my parents were waiting for me, and standing beside them was a very smug Mrs. Watson.

My hands tightened into clenched fists as I thought about all the trouble that woman had gotten me into.

"Enjoy your holidays, young lady," she crooned to me blissfully.

Then she PATTED Demi on the head, something everyone felt inclined to do because of her shortness but had the dignity NOT to, except for Mrs. Watson of course.

The receptionist then collapsed into the poor chair-I wonder how it takes to much weight.

"Come on, Demi. We'll drop you off at your house," Mom said, turning and leaving the Student's Office.

Demi threw me a hopeless glance, and just followed my Mom out like a sheep, and I couldn't help grinning at that.

"I can't see what YOU'RE smiling about, Jordan. I think you, your mother and I need to have a little talk," Dad said, frowning at me.

My face dropped instantly.

Dammit.

I followed him out the room dejectedly, but not before I could catch the grin on the school receptionist's face.

Seriously, if looks could k!ll, the last time I looked at her would leave her as a little puddle of gloop on the floor.

The hallway was completely empty by now; I don't know how, but the whole office fiasco must have taken an hour or something.

"It's weirdly empty today," Mom noted, vocalizing my thoughts.

"It's the first day of the holidays, Carmen. What do you expect?" Dad answered her.

"Oh," she said.

Oh. That answers my question too.

I didn't say anything the whole dreary walk down the school corridor and across the playground.

The car was parked on the sidewalk curb, its sleek black paint-job blending in with the urban surroundings.

I climbed in without a word, and Demi followed my lead, staying silent as she got in beside me.

Dad was driving in the seat in front of Demi, Mom sitting in the passenger's seat directly ahead of me. On the empty space between Demi and me, I dumped my school bag.

My stupid parents insisted that I have a rucksack, even though everyone else would carry a satchel or some shopping bag. I was hoping to change their minds before next year, but looking back on the way things had gone, I'd be lucky if I was alive to GO to school.

On the rear-view mirror hung what should hang from every car's rear-view mirror.

Furry dice.

They swayed slightly as Dad smoothly started the engine, and swerved from the sidewalk into the curb.

The car ride was, of course, silent, for most of the way.

But Demi kept nudging me until I couldn't take it anymore.

"What, Demi!?" I finally snapped at her quietly. "What do you want?"

She looked at me in confusion, the question in her eyes clear.

"'Cuz... just because this messes up everything," I answered her.

Another silent question.

"No, I'm not REALLY upset about it. Just.. a bit peeved, I guess..."

My voice was quiet enough that it couldn't be heard up at the front, but if Demi listened hard, she could hear every word.

I think she could tell from my voice that I wanted her to let it go.

I just blanked my mind and stared out the window for the rest of the car ride.

"See ya, Jordan," Demi suddenly said.

"W-what?"

"My house." She pointed to the house we'd parked beside.

My parents have had Demi's address memorized ever since we were 7, so that's why they hadn't asked where to go.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. Later," I mumbled, giving her a halfhearted wave as she got out.

"Call me when you get back from the summer lodge thing, okay?" she asked me, holding onto the door handle.

I smiled slightly, and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

She grinned.

"Bye then! I'll see you in two weeks," she bubbled, shutting the door. "Have fun!"

Yeah, I scoffed in my head. If that's possible.

Our house was only ten minutes away from Demi's by car, about twenty at a walk and fifteen at a run, so the rest of the journey was short and ... not sweet.

"Get out," Dad demanded, climbing out. Mom did the same, slamming the door as she strode up to the house-door.

She rummaged for the keys in her handbag, her knee length dress billowing slightly in the warm Californian breeze.

"Mathew!" she called to Dad as I walked up to her slowly. "Do you have the keys on you?"

"Probably," he murmured, stepping onto the doorstep lightly and getting something out of his pocket.

"Here."

"Thanks."

I heard the click of the door being unlocked, and I followed them in, keeping a few feet's distance for safety.

Although, they did seem to have calmed down significantly, I noted.

The daily routine was usually for me and Demi to walk home, and I'd go up to my room and watch TV, do homework, browse the web, whatever, 'till Mom came home from her job as a part-time teacher at a Kindergarten school.

I'd help her make dinner, or Demi would be round and we'd laze 'till Dad came home, and then it'd be dinner.

I tried to slip off to my room  now, but they were having none of it.

"Jordan," Mom said warningly. "Come here, into the living room. We need to talk."