Here’s part three to my short story! Go to the first one to see what happened before, or go back one post to see what happened last.
“Rachel!” I gulped anxiously, recognizing Danielle’s voice. Sure enough, she stormed through the pre-class crowd, red as a cherry.
“Hi, Danielle,” I said as coolly as the Sahara in the middle of the dry season, “What’s up?”
“What’s up! I’ll tell you what’s up!” She grabbed my shirt and pinned me to a locker.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she growled, “You–you–you!”
The plan must’ve worked, I thought with satisfaction, good.
“I warned you, Danielle, and you just drove right by the sign and into the red zone where no map can tell you what’s ahead.” That would’ve been a brilliant speech, hadn’t Danielle given me such a sharp left hook that I bit my tongue. When I’d blinked the stars out’ve my eyes and I could figure out where I was, I spat, “You didn’t want to do that.”
“Oh, but I did.”
“It’s not the best idea that you’ve ever had, not that you’ve had many.”
Danielle scowled and kicked me. I doubled up, wheezing, but still managed to gasp, “Funny, never thought you’d be one to kick a man–or a girl–when she’s down.”
“Sarcasm,” Danielle said lightly, “Just false menaces, like shadows, nothing real.”
“Sarcasm can either hurt or not.”
” ‘Never thought you’d kick a girl when she’s down’,” Danielle said in a high, mimicking voice, “That wasn’t supposed to sting? If that wasn’t, I wonder what you’ve just done wasn’t supposed to do…traumatize me? Mortify me?”
“Like I said, I warned you.”
“Like I said, you’re out beyond the breakers, Rachel, and a shark’s coming.”
“You’re out above the Marianas Trench with a giant squid closing in on you, about to drag you down until the pressure crushes your skull and you suffocate before devouring you for all the jabs of a harpoon you’ve dealt it.”
Another kick, then Danielle knelt and stared at me. “Yesterday one of my friends saw that I had an elaborately decorated sign that said, ‘kiss me’ written on it. Just as I was walking out of the school to go home, some guy did just that. It’s your fault, isn’t it?”
“I can’t deny it,” I replied candidly
“Watch where you poke your face,” Danielle said, “Or I’ll poke it in.” She strode away, leaving me with a bleeding mouth and a good bruise on my side.
“Ow,” I muttered, spitting, “That’s gonna hurt in the morning…”
But it worked! He actually had the nerve to kiss her, just walk up and kiss her! She was horrified! Oh, I wish I’d been there to see it! Smack! I wonder what her friends thought! I was so exhilarated, I skipped all the way to my first class. Too bad I was cocky, because by the time Creative Writing rolled around…
…I felt like I was the one target of stares. The first few people went by, and Danielle was working so quietly, it looked like she was beaten. When she got up to read it, though, I could see why she had been working so hard and quiet.
“‘Love in the hallway/a mistaken kiss! Not mine!/Victim of bad description:/it belonged to Rachel!’ Another alternative haiku about a real event,” Danielle read.
“Very good. Is the meter five, seven, seven, five?” the teacher asked. Danielle nodded. “Well, the last like is six syllables.”
“‘It be-longed to Rach-el’. One two-three four five-six,” Danielle mouthed, counting the syllables. Although my face was red enough to attract hummingbirds, I felt a little vengeance.
“Great,” I moaned to Isabelle after Creative Writing, “Now the whole class think’s it’s me who was supposed to be kissed after school!”
“And you know how gossip spreads in this school,” Isabelle added.
“You’re not helping.”
“I didn’t intend to.”
“You’re my BFF, why not?”
“Since I’m your BFF, I know that you can’t be consoled.”
“You got that….Okay, so now we’re in even worse trouble than before.” I sighed, images of boys oozily asking for kisses wavering in front of my eyes like the after images you get when looking at a light too long. “What now?”
“Well, it’s your problem.”
“See above: you’re not helping.”
“See above: I didn’t mean to,” Isabelle pointed out. I moaned.
“Good green-beans, whose side are you on, mine or Danielle’s?!”
“Seeing how I’m talking to you right now about plans for Operation-Kiss-My- Youdonwannaknowwhat, what do you think?”
“If you’re going to be so saucy, why don’t you just go hang out with Danielle?”
“Maybe I will!” Isabelle shouted. She stormed away from me, leaving my anger to boil and bubble until it had run out of interest.
“What did I do?” I moaned, “I just got rid of my best planner, and Isabelle won’t forgive anyone unless she feels like it. Alone, deserted, despised, our depressed hero mopes in the between-period clamor. Ugh, I wish this was a story, that way I’d find some way out…”
Wait a minute, I thought, Maybe…Okay, time for a logical analysis of the facts and a method: What do I want to do? That’s easy, I want to stop Danielle from insulting me with clean poetry, redeem myself and get back at her, and make it up to Isabelle. Which is the most important and focused goal? Well, stopping Danielle and getting back at her are almost the same thing, but two wrongs don’t make a right unless you’re doing algebra and you have two negatives multiplying by each other, meaning that Danielle would just snap back harder. I can’t use a positive here because Danielle will just turn whatever multiplication or addition symbol into a subtraction one and just be meaner. It would actually be a better idea to get her to stop…
I could tell the principal.
But if I tell her…
It’s worth a try. I’ll go after school.
I stood anxiously in front of the PRINCIPAL office, or so the door said. PRINCIPAL, it said importantly every time I glanced at it, PRINCIPAL PRINCIPAL PRINCIPALPRINCIPALPRINCIPAL…
I’d never been here before. Cautiously my knuckles banged on the door.
Mrs. Kriwalski is in her thirties, maybe. She likes to take surprise visits into the classrooms and walk around to see how it’s going, so she wasn’t a stranger to me.
“Uh, good afternoon?” I said anxiously, closing the door behind me.
“What is it? I’d like to point out that a principal’s day is never empty,” Mrs. Kriwalski said gently, her soft way of saying, ‘I’ve got other things to do’ without making you feel inferior.
“You know Danielle, right? Seventh grade?”
“There are four Danielle’s in seventh grade. It would help if you told me her last name, miss…?
“Rachel Sky, ma’am–that’s my name, I mean. Danielle’s is…I think it’s Danielle Lorwaster.”
“Lorwaster, Lorwaster…yes, I know that girl. Good actress, isn’t she?”
Fire lighted in my mind as an idea exploded. Red exclamation marks flashed in front of my eyes, but I forced myself to go through with the current plan.
“She’s been writing mean poems about me in Creative Writing,” I blurted, “My friend and I would write some in secret code, but never mean ones, and then she got the idea and then started mean ones.”
“Really? I understand that maybe she could be a little better than you…”
“Oh, no! Ask the teacher about it, I think she’s noticed it by now, if she hasn’t done anything yet.”
“Thank you, Rachel, I will.”
“Oh, and Mrs. Kriwalski? Could you do me a favor and not tell the teacher who said, and ask her to act as if she just figured it out, please?”
“Well, I’m sure it would be no trouble.”
“Because if Danielle knew, she’d probably get worse.”
“I’ll take it in my own hands. Thank you Rachel, you may go.”
“Have a good day, Mrs. Kriwalski,” I said quickly.
The door closed and I grinned.
I got a new plan, I texted to Isabelle almost gloating.
Bzzt! Bzzzzt! what is it can u tell me?
no ur dan l’s bff now apparently, I said in what was almost a harsh way.
can u @ least give me a hint?
I thought for a minute, not wanting to be too mean; after all, it was my fault she was “Danielle’s bff now”.
fine but I’ll only tell u that it has 2 do with drama & improv
come on thats no hint what do u have 2 improve?
drama and improv. ur only hint othrwise u will have 2 wait & c.
What happens next? What’s Rachel’s new plan that’s dramatic and needs improvisation? Will the principal get Danielle to stop the poems without Danielle knowing who told on her? And will my story writing stay the same quality? Ha!