by CJ Adler
True, but I just don't have the motivation for school like I do for my so- called 'rebel projects'.
“I suppose,” I agree calmly. “And perhaps if you put more effort into your schoolwork than jocks, you'd…” I purposely trail off. “Never mind, you'd still be failing either way.”
I know she's failing too. She has no ground to stand on. The audacity of this cavewoman, I tell you! She's a hypocrite.
She snarls at me before handing Bells a pink, girly envelope that reeks of perfume. “You're invited to my pool party on Fri. Be there. It ain't a party if Bella Bensten isn't there.”
Max tugs Bells back to him when the jocks smirk in her direction, Laiken included. “My girlfriend,” Max emphasizes, shooting glares their way.
Melinda acknowledges him, handing him an invite too. “Seeing as you’re with Bells, my homegirl, you can come.”
Max grins in delight at this. “Really?” he asks in glee as if unbelieving.
Melinda nods, seemingly annoyed that he has to come along seeing as he isn't one of the 'populars'.
“I've never been invited to a lame party before,” Max concludes in sarcastic joy. Melinda's jaw practically sweeps the floor. He goes on to rip his invite into little shards of paper before pouring it all over Melinda. I watch in amusement as the paper flutters around her, landing in her hair and what not. “Dance, monkey! Dance!” he insists.
I snicker. This is exactly why I put up with Max. He's the best. Melinda scoffs and flays her hands about to get the paper off of her.
“Jazz hands! There it is!” Max exclaims excitedly before flaying his hands around too, mocking her.
Max is a keeper. Bells better take good care of him. They're perfect for each other. Max can teach Bells to loosen up once in a while and Bell can teach Max to tighten up every once in a while.
Melinda shakes it off and turns to me with a boastful grin. “You, on the other hand, are not invited to my pool party.”
I smirk. “It's cool. I didn't really feel up to whale watching in any case.”
Max high-fives me for that one while Bells shoots the both of us a look for our appalling behavior. Max and I defend ourselves in unison, “She started it!” We both point at Melinda accusingly.
“Yeah but she can't help it,” Bells lets slip by my mistake and then quickly covers her mouth as if realizing. She's quick to recover and pull herself out of the grave she just dug. “She can't help that's she's so damn cool.”
Melinda, being an idiot, nods, agreeing. “Exactly! Thank you, Bella! You get mwa, chica.”
Sometimes, I get the heebie-jeebies because I'm embarrassed for her. How on earth does Bells put up with such a complete moron? Tolerance? Patience? It's not enough for this mental case.
Max comes to stand beside me before whispering loudly in my ear, “It amazes me how stupid some people are.”
“Melinda can't amaze me anymore. I automatically expect 'stupid' from her as soon as she's in a nearby radius,” I whisper back.
“I heard that!” Melinda snaps at me. “You're such a freak, Aqueela, and your hair is ugly.”
“Yeah, well, at least, I don't look like the end product of years of inbreeding between a reject muppet and a frog,” I insult back, not at all annoyed, enjoying our silly banter . I can handle her. She, on the other hand, looks ready to kill me right here where I stand . I have a lot of people waiting to kill me. I should draw up a shortlist of candidates.
Laiken laughs at Melinda's expense. She shoots him a look. He's quick to shut up. “Sorry,” he coughs, placing his hands up in defense.
I don't get why people take orders from this airhead!
Melinda scowls at me. “You will regret saying that, Lawson.”
I laugh aloud at this. “You say that every time and never do I regret it. Don't threaten me, Melinda, not if you can't beat me at your own game. Remember, you started this war,” I remind her to years ago when Mason first bullied me and she took his side.
“Okay, you've had your fun,” Max says, tugging me away from Melinda before I can really hurt her.
“This is so wrong. We should be in class,” Bells speaks up, voicing her concern.
“Oh, relax, Mother Teresa,” I tease. “Strikes are legal. We're striking against too much schoolwork.”
“You don't even do any schoolwork so why do you even care?” Laiken addresses me in a sour tone. He really dislikes me for some reason. “I don't get why my best friend fell for you. I don't know what Jay and Mason see in you.”
“Me neither, I don't have X-ray vision,” I reply, biting back a grin when he glares at me for being a smart-ass. “Everyone, stop what you're doing and gather around,” I order, getting back on track with our mission.
Max coughs awkwardly. “First off, none of us are doing anything. Second, we're all already gathered around…but okay.”
I ignore him. “If we're going to pull this off, we need to establish some ground rules and boundaries and guard rails and—”
“Get on with it!” Laiken urges rudely.
“Rule one, snitches will get stitches,” I tell them. “And snitches are real witches who end up in deep ditches.”
Everyone nods, agreeing with me for once.
“Second, you will all be required to refer to me as your 'master' or 'Sensei' and to this lounge as 'Lawson's Lounge'. Do I make myself clear?” I ask fiercely.
This time they all grumble out disagreements and complaints.
“No way am I calling you 'Sensei',” Laiken argues, folding his arms across his chest, purposely flexing his muscles as if proud. “'Master' will suffice,” I reply calmly. “No!” he snaps, adamant.
I roll my eyes at him. “You're such a nuisance and seeing as you are, you will be our lead in our contingency plan if something is to go wrong. That would be quite the conundrum.”
Laiken closes his eyes and shakes his head as if ashamed of me. “You did not just say that word,” he says and I already know to which word he's referring to. “No one says that anymore. In fact, no one ever said that.”
I hold back a smile. “You called it, bro! I so said it. Conundrum. Conundrum! Conundrum!” I repeat aloud in his ear just to annoy him. He shoves me away. Bell steadies me to prevent me from falling like the klutz we all know I am. “Rude!” I mutter at him.
He scoffs in sarcasm. “Sorry if I need some warning before you shout directly into my face.”
“How's your nose, Lai?” I mock.
Laiken shuts up at that, glowering at me. He's sulking now.
“Hey! Who's in here?!” a voice calls from outside Lawson's Lounge. Judging by the deep voice, it's most definitely a male teacher.
“Flip! Flip! Flip!” Bells, the goody-two-shoes from us all, begins to panic.
“I'm going to juvies!”
“No, you're not!” I whisper-shout before shoving my elbow into Laiken's side. “You're up. Put up your best accent and succeed or else I will throw you to the wolves. You're our scapegoat.”
Laiken sighs before putting on a deeper voice than usual, changing up his usual tone and pitch. “The room's preoccupied. Private meeting taking place.”
The person from the other side clears his throat apologetically. “Oh, sorry. Excuse my interruption.”
“It's cool, yo. Now get lost —I mean, uh…uhm…I'm lost,” Laiken chokes up, as expected.
I hit my forehead in frustration. It's overs now. This is why you don't let a jock do a human's job. They're good for nothing.
“Open up here immediately! I know its students in there. You're not authorized or permitted into the teacher's lounge. It's forbidden.”
I nod my head at Bells upon hearing the enraged voice. It's Mr. Freeden, my gym class coach. He hates me, especially because I'm ridiculously lazy when it comes to physical exercise. I ditch his lessons often. I see them as pointless.
“Was the teacher's lounge,” I correct under my breath.
He, with his sharp hearing, hears me. “Lawson! That you in there?!” he
shouts, banging on the door now. “Open up right this instant!” He doesn't even seem surprised that it's me.
“Can't do that, sir. With all due respect, I'm busy striking and cannot be interrupted at this time. Perhaps, if you book an open slot in my time schedule, I could fit you in next millennium—”
“Open the door!” He cuts off my ramblings, infuriated.
I sigh and open the door much to everyone's alarm. Mr. Freeden barges in and glances around at all of us in anger. “You should all be in class!” he roars, his gaze unwavering as it lands on me—the main leader of this operation.
“No can do, sir. This is a strike. It's non-violent for now. Unless you want it to be a catastrophe, I suggest you leave us be. It's legal to strike and we're all striking against the mental abuse of children in this school. We get way too much work and homework. When do we get to be kids and just live? This school is like a prison and I'm tired of it. All we ask is that the teachers lessen up the workload. We have rights. It's a free country. I'm fighting for liberation from stress. I want justice!” I give him my unprepared speech, fired up.
“It’s a peaceful protest,” Max corrects me.
This all started today in my English class. Some student didn't listen to Mrs. Paige, so she took it out on all of us and gave us a five thousand word essay to do. When we complained, she made it six thousand words.
It irks me when teachers take advantage over us. This wouldn't be the first time. So, naturally, I spread the word around about a protest. More people are bound to join. I'm expecting many. I'm not stopping until Mrs. Paige apologizes and drops the essays.
Teachers can be jerks—some are great, others don't really care. They're supposed to want to help learners, not destroy them. Teachers are hard on us a lot of the time despite the circumstances of the anxious kid, the kid with no parents, the kid who cuts as a result of depression, the kid who starves herself because people mock her weight, the kid who gets bullied; the list goes on and on. Why not get to know us before ruin us?
School is supposed to be the constant in our lives, our safe haven, not a jail we long to escape.
Mr. Freeden blinks, as if shocked that I can be somewhat intelligent when necessary. I glance around, only to see that the cheerleaders and jocks are astounded too.
“I will not stand for another rebellious uprising of yours, Ms. Lawson, but I will say that you are one hell of a leader. I don't know how you do it but you always manage to rope in so many people into following your cause. Principal Long will be hearing about this. In the meantime, get out of the teacher's lounge,” Mr. Freeden threatens us, me, specifically.
Laiken, Melinda, and Bells automatically look to me for guidance, waiting for me to direct them. They all look worried. Max, however, grins at me and winks, already aware that I have plan B all the way through to Z. No one can play me. I own this school.
I pick at my nails, not meeting his gaze just yet. “Oh, Mr. Freeden, I was really hoping you'd comply. Now you're forcing me to take to extreme measures,” I say before finally glancing up at him. “I wonder what Principal Long would say if he were to find out that you're having an affair with Mrs. Paige.”
Mr. Freeden stiffens at this. I've got his attention.
“The rules state that no relationships between employees are allowed. It results in an immediate disciplinary protocol. You'd both have to be let go.” For emphasis, I sigh aloud. “How I'd hate for that to happen,” I blackmail him, thoroughly enjoying seeing a teacher squirm for once.
I remember when Mr. Freeden failed me on the spot just because I tripped up once during hurdles. He didn't fail the guy who tripped several times more than me. He has always had it in for me.
“Are you blackmailing a superior?” Mr. Freeden asks in bewilderment.
You'd think he'd get it by now.
I shrug. “I don't know. Would you like to find out, sir?”
“As you were,” Mr. Freeden gives in with a frown after much hesitation. He knows he has no ground to stand on.
I turn back to my followers to see them all stunned. “What?”
“You are so devious and cunning. I gotta say, you're growing on me,” Laiken confesses aloud.
“Fungus style.” I wink at him playfully, letting bygones be by-gones.
Laiken chuckles, offering me a small smile, in turn.
“How did you know that he's seeing Mrs. Paige?” Melinda asks, impressed but doing her best to hide it.
Just the other day, Max and I had been doing a little stalking. We were trying to dig up dirt on all the teachers in case of something like this happening. Bells was too busy pampering herself at a spa to join.
I think back to a few days ago:
“Do we really have to dress so dark? I feel like I'm going to a funeral,” Max complains. “And are these spy goggles really necessary?”
It is 'Mission: Impossible' and we have to play the part.
“It's an alleged precaution, Max,” I explain, striving for the cool con man, spy appeal.
We had been spying on Mr. Freeden that afternoon as he taught his last P.E. lesson of the day. We watched him as if he were a fascinating specimen. We needed him for a juicy cover story. Max decided to pretend we were on the National Geographic Channel.
“To the outsider, it looks as if he's performing a mating ritual to attract a mate of his desire when really he is merely eating,” Max says, watching Mr. Freeden eat his sandwich like a pig. “Eating is a method needed in order to survive, a rare fact that not many know, and mating is needed to reproduce evil spawns just like this hideous beast feasting on a—”
“Indeed, Sherlocks!”
Max and I had jump up in panic, only to see Jay towering over us with his arms crossed over his chest, a victorious smirk on his face.
He's been listening in the entire time.
“How did you find us?” I ask, shocked that he found us despite our camouflage and spy outfits.
“You guys are wearing black in the middle of the day. Plus, the bush you two are hiding behind is dead. There is no leaves to provide you two with any cover. We can all literally see you guys from afar,” Jay tells us, motioning to the rest of his P.E. class, including Mr. Freeden, who are all watching us with perplexed expressions. “Want to tell me what the hell you two are doing here in my P.E. class?”
Max and I had both shake our heads in unison, gulping in terror.
Jay turns his deadpanned gaze onto me.
I give in under the pressure. “I need alleged dirt on Mr. Freeden for that alleged project that I told you about which you allegedly refused to be part of. So we're allegedly spying on him and all the other alleged teachers.”
“Stop saying the word 'alleged'. It doesn't make you a con man. You two are such idiots. I'll help you out just this once,” he replies solemnly. “Mr. Freeden is seeing Mrs. Paige. There you go. 'Mission: Impossible' over. You two can retire from the spy agency now.”
I glance back at Melinda and shake off her question. “Natural skill,” I lie, noticing Max's grin from the corner of my eye. He and I are the only ones who know that Jay gave us the dirt – he's very perceptive, not at all oblivious to what goes on around him.
Bell scoffs. “Yeah right–”
I slap a hand over her mouth before she gives it away.
Right, I forgot she knows too.
“Let's get moving. We have a strike to start, people,” I talk over Bells just as the bell rings, signaling for lunchtime. “Come on! Everyone will be in the cafeteria. We'll start there and gather more to join. Laiken and Melinda will be the faces of our project seeing as everyone likes the two of them for some unfathomable reason. Now let's go make magic a reality!”
They all nod in agreement before leaving my lounge. It's then, by chance, that Jay happens to walk past. He stops further on, registering what he just saw, before turning around and walking back to me. “Aqueela? You still going through with this?”
I nod wordlessly.
“You're already on P
rincipal Long's bad side. Why make it a billion times worse? Haven't you given him enough heart attacks throughout the years as is? You're going to get expelled for this. Call it off,” he advises with good intentions.
“No can do, JJ,” I decline. “I'm busy, so if you don't mind—”
“I thought you were better than this,” he states firmly, his expectations of me impossibly high.
“I am. Most times. Sometimes. Rarely. Once in a blue moon,” I mumble sheepishly, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt under his piercing gaze.
“This kind of behavior is a reflection of your character. I hope you know that. You're failing science and math and now you pull a stunt like this, what are you expecting to happen? You're not going to accomplish anything,” he says bluntly, making a lot of actual sense.
I yawn. “Lovely. Slow death from your lectures—worst kind of torture.”
I'm only being stubborn because I know he's right.
“Call. It. Off.”
Why does he always get the last say and leave me to consider my actions a second time?
He's right. I have to call this thing off before I end up repeating a year.
I attempt to stop the protest for a full five minutes before giving in. The strike isn't in my control anymore. Melinda, Laiken, and all the followers they wrangled, refuse to back down.
I, courageously, march straight to Principal Long's office, seeing no other option, and take a seat before him. He's currently busy on his computer, unaware of my presence. I managed to sneak past his secretary so he hasn't been notified of my presence just yet
I cough loudly in order to draw his attention.
He peers at me from behind his computer before sitting up straight, his smile immediately fading as his expression contorts to one of agony, at least, it seems that way. He groans upon seeing me. “Ms. Lawson, to what do I owe the torture?” he inquires, curious.
I bite my lip, nervous, but go ahead and explain anyway. “So, you see, I started it so that Mrs. Paige would take back the essay. It's unfair to punish us just because she's having a terrible day. I had good intentions initially,” I conclude.