I trudge up to the rectangular doorway of the prison that I will be chained in for the next seven hours with a bunch of other sweaty, ungrateful kids who don’t want to be here anymore than I do, with the exception of the anti- social teacher’s pets who arrive three hours earlier than everyone else so they can worship at the teachers’, principal’s, and all other staff member/ prison keeper’s feet. I walk to room 306 with my freakish, un-humanly vibrant emerald eyes focusing straight forward, ignoring all around me. I pass by the cheerleaders without staring longingly, or jealously. I pass the jocks without drooling, the geeks without snickering, the slackers without sneering, the “bad boys” without wimping, the class clowns without laughing, the goths, punks and emos without staring skeptically, and the teacher’s pets without rolling my eyes in disgust. I sit down in my scratched up, doodled on desk without making a sound, dropping my homework in the “IN” box gracefully on the way. I let my autumn red-brown hair fall in front of my face and busy myself curling its ringlets around my pencil again and again as the rest of the class fills in the seats around me.

“All right class, let’s get started.”

Oh joy.