literature

Ira's Fantastically Bad Day

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   I woke up on Monday morning to dreary, bland rain. The put-put-pat of the raindrops on lulled me back into my slumber, until my mom’s angry, frantic cries reached my ears.
   “IRA! YOU’RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS! HURRY UP!”
   I lept out of my bed. I couldn’t be late! 1st period’s already bad enough without having to walk in on everyone staring at you. I rushed into the bathroom, where I hurriedly ran my toothbrush over my teeth and threw my jeans on, before I grabbed my backpack and binder and sprinted out the door.
   As I ran, I regretted on the fact that I had failed to take an umbrella while rushing through my morning routine. The rain was annoying as it soaked my clothes and hair in a dreary, bland blanket of water. When I finally arrived at the bus stop, I looked around to see no one in sight. I had missed the bus! Mom wasn’t going to be happy.
   As I slugged back to my house, I stubbed my toe on an exposed tree root. I stumbled, and threw out my hands to catch myself as I fell to the pavement, dropping my binder into a large puddle. Oh great! All my homework was in there! And as if to top off my misfortune sundae, a car rolled by, spraying me with a tidal wave of muddy water and flattening my binder.
   I have a bad feeling about today. Maybe it was just Mondays.

   When I arrived back at my house, my mom was, you guessed it, angry. She stormed around the house, complaining about how she’d be late for work and how my clothes are soaking and dripping water on the floor. Oops.
   While my mom griped, I went back upstairs to changed out of my drenched attire. Now that I had a few more minutes, I was able to choose a proper outfit, as opposed to the old-and-a-little-too-small shirt I had worn to bed. When I came back downstairs, I was dry, besides my hair, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that right now. Mom was waiting in the car, eager to get me off to school so she could get to work. It’s not like she has an interesting job, so I’m not exactly sure why she wants to see me off so much.
   When I got to school, first period had already started. After cramming my books into my locker, I “stealthily” walked into first period, which was science. My teacher, Mrs. Jones, was in the middle of checking homework. As I sat down, she got to my name.
   “Era? Do you have your homework?” she asked in her nasally voice. I sighed. She never got my name right. I reflexively went for my homework folder, and gasped. It wasn’t there! I must have left it at home. I stared down at my hands and whispered, “No, I don’t”
   “What was that, Era?” her nasally voice pierced my ears, irritating me. But I held my temper.
   “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones, I don’t have my homework today. I will be sure to bring it tomorrow,” I said in my most polite voice. I heard whispers around the room. “Kiss-up.” “She thinks she’s so perfect!” “So Little Miss Honors student finally missed an assignment?” I ignored them, as always. I had never understood why they hated me, and I never asked. I didn’t care what they thought of me. There was no point to it.
   “Work completion!” Mrs. Jones said, and moved on to the next student. I just opened my binder and turned to today’s lab. No point in being any further behind.

   By the time Lunch came around, I was irritated. Not mad, just irritated.  I had none of my homework for History, English, or IFL, so I’m in work completion for the rest of the week. My locker got jammed, so I didn’t have anything I needed for my classes. And on top of that, my lunch money was in binder, so that’s gone, too. My day was wrecked and I was only halfway done.
   I sat by myself, as usual. Everyone else had their friends, and it was just awkward having to put up with small talk and gossip. My time was better spent studying than talking about what guy Jane likes. It’s pointless and trivial, and all-in-all dumb. They wonder why I have the highest grades in the 7th grade, when they do no studying what-so-ever. And I take their snarky remarks and whispers for it.
   Just as I sat down at my table, three girls walked up to me. They had makeup that they thought made them look good on in excessive amounts and ridiculously high heels. Seriously, how do people wear those? If they’re wearing those now, they’re going to have arthritis when they’re 20.
   “I heard you finally missed an assignment. Did Little Miss Perfect finally get a boyfriend and spent all night talking to him? Oh, wait, you’re too ugly to get one,” the tallest said. Her name was Adrina Ren, and she was my main tormenter. Her and her friends Ellie Custard and Ashlynn Tearson have had it out for me since elementary school, when I got a 100 on a test that they didn’t.
   I sighed. “You heard about it? Oh, I forgot. You’re not smart enough to get into an honors class. Maybe all that makeup had seeped through your pores and poisoned your brain.” Just because I was a loner doesn’t mean I can’t stand up to people. Take on a bully head on and they back down. It usually works.
   “Don’t think you’re little comments affect me anymore. I’ve become immune to them.” She glared at me through her bright pink eyeshadow, spat from her equally pink lips. Carp. That was my only plan. I never thought they would grow impervious to degrading comments such as that. Or maybe they didn’t and are bluffing to get under my skin. Either way, I can’t let them see that I’m shaken up.
   “The only thing you’re immune to is the cold. With the clothes you wear, it’s a miracle you don’t have hypothermia.” I just wanted to eat my Cheerios in peace, which is impossible with the Triad of Pretty Princesses. Maybe if I kept insulting her, she’d finally go back to her table.
   It worked. She huffed, and walked away, tottering on her heels. Her groupies followed in suit, looking not as sure or nearly as flustered as they retreated to their lunch table. I heard a instant increase in conversation volume when the three returned. Laughs-no not even, more of a cackle-echoed in the cafeteria as they pointed in my direction. I sighed. When will they ever realize that rumors mean nothing to a girl with nothing to lose except grades? That comments made behind my back can’t hurt someone who cares nothing of what others think of her? I didn’t understand.
   After they left, I looked down at my pitiful lunch. A plastic container with cereal won’t tide me over until I get home, especially considering I had had no breakfast. Looks like I’ll have to suffer some more.

   After Lunch, we had 6th period. With a quick locker check to see that they had yet to fix my locker, I hurried to Math. Because I didn’t have to bring anything with me, I was one of the first ones there. I looked at the board see what the warm up was, when I heard a sneer behind me.
  “Well, well, lookie here. Where’s your stuff, Teacher’s Pet?” Ellie said, a hand on poised on her hip. “In a jam?”
   I gasped. So they jammed my locker! I didn’t think they were smart enough to figure out how. Maybe they have more brains than I’m giving them credit for.
   “I’ve reached a level where I don’t need my notes in class. Not even in those freakish heels of yours could you get within 90 miles of it.” My comebacks, on the other hand have fallen so low in quality where I’m sure they have become lava in the Earth’s core.
   “Huh. You really are losing it,” was her reply, then she left to her desk.
   Or at least she tried to. On the way there, she stumbled, and crashed onto the floor, screaming as she fell. Her arms flailed in front of her in a feeble attempt to soften her blow, causing her to hit her wrist on a desk in her cascade to the floor. Everyone rushed to her as she wailed in pain. I just stood there and watched a crowd of people huddle around her, asking her if she was okay, bending to her whines. It irritated me how populars got whatever they wanted, while I was ridiculed and bullied.
   “I-I’m okay,” she sniffled. Her pathetic pouty face was making me sick. I walked over to my desk and sat down, taking a lost pencil I found earlier in the day and the piece of loose leaf I snatched from the bin to start the warm up when I heard a comment that would ruin my perfect record.
   “Ira pushed me. She must have been mad about her jammed locker, so she wanted to take it out on something,” Ellie whined, putting any and all of her acting abilities into two sentences.
My eyes widened. My head swung around to her herd of people. I saw several shocked faces in my direction, but I locked on Ellie’s. Even with running makeup and being crumpled on the floor, she had they eyes of a viper. I stood up and leaned against the desk, unsteady on my feet.
   “Is this true, Ira?” The math teacher, Mr. Signor, asked from his position helping Ellie off the floor.
   “Wha- No! Why would I push her? She might hate my guts, and she may not be my favorite person in the world, but I wouldn’t push her,” I shakily replied, eyeing the people in the classroom. I saw a few sympathetic glances, but most were of anger. I could have guessed. Ellie is one of the most popular girls in the 7th grade-no, the entire school. No one will side with a loner nerd that has more rumors flying around the school about her than one can count.
   Mr. Signor pursed his lips. “Either way, with foul play as a possibility, we have to take this to administration. Both of you, follow me.” He stalked to the door, and I scrambled to follow. We walked down the stairs to the main office. Ellie walked past me, and smirked. I scowled, and continued to follow our teacher. No point in worrying when your future hangs by a thread right now. What college accepts a girl who pushed someone during 7th grade? I better hope one does.
   We reached the office. “Here, both of you in,” Mr. Signor said, and ushered us into the cramped space. The principal looked up from his papers, and motioned for us to sit down.
   “I have already called both your parents. They will be here soon,” the principal said, giving us his undivided attention. “Now, tell me what happened. Ms. Ira, first, please.”
   I took in a deep breath. “I had just gotten to math. I was looking at out warm up when Ellie came in. She made a rude comment to me, and when she tried to get to her desk, she stumbled, causing her to fall. She then told the entire class that I had pushed her, when in reality, I was several feet away. I was virtually impossible for me to have pushed her from where I was in the room,” I explained, but if the principal was anything like the students, I wasn’t feeling all too optimistic.
   The principal nodded. “Interesting. Ms. Ellie, your side of the story now.”
   She had the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes on her face when she started her story. “Well, I had just walked into math and started walking over to my desk when I felt hands on my back. I was shoved forwards, and fell to the ground. I looked over to Ira standing over me,” She said in the sappy, teary voice.
   “Well, that’s two different stories, all right. I’ll interview student and see which is true. Ellie, make yourself in home here until your parents get here. Ira, come with me.” The principal stood up and walked to the door. I quickly followed in suit, following the principle into the secretary’s office. There, my mom sat in a chair, looking worried. When we entered, she stood quickly, and practically ran over to us. She slowed, and stood facing the principal.
   “I’m confused. I got a call saying Ira shoved someone, but I can’t imagine her doing something so violent! It all must be a misunderstanding,” my mom rushed out, jerking her head from the principal to me and back to the principal over and over again as she spoke.
   “Everything’s alright. We’re getting that sorted out right now. Come with me please.” The principal spoke in a calm voice. He turned to the secretary. “Please direct Ms. Ellie’s parents to my office when they arrive.” The secretary nodded, and went back to whatever she was doing. “Follow me.”
   We backtracked to his office, where Ellie sat, checking out her perfect manicure. When we entered, she slammed her hand into her leg and stood to greet us.
   “You must be Ira’s mom. I’m Ellie,” she said in a polite voice, like she hadn’t been spewing lies about me for years. And they call me a kiss up.
   “Hello, Ellie. It’s nice to meet you,” my mom stuck out her hand, and shook it, like she hadn’t been freaking out only seconds earlier. What’s with all the moody people in this room, seriously?
   The principal motioned for us to sit down. Just as we did, the door opened once again. In the doorway stood two blond adults in designer fashion. Ellie’s parents. They immediately rushed to their daughter’s side, doting over her and asking if she was okay. Ellie, forever the princess, burst into tears and wailed to her parents about what happened. I just sighed. I couldn't care less about her drama tantrum, but it was getting really annoying.
   Once Ellie’s parents established that their little baby was fine, the sat down, giving dirty glances over to me and my mom. The principal didn’t seem to notice this as he took his spot at his desk once again.
   “So,” he began, “I’m sure that you’re all confused right now, so let’s get down to business. One of your girls is lying. Now we have yet to interview the other stude-”
   “That girl over there is obviously lying. Our Ellie would never tell a lie!” Ellie’s mom said, irritated. I rolled my eyes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
   “Now, now, ma’am, we are still sorting everything out, but we have no evidence that incriminates Ira at this point in time. I will continue the investigation, but for the time being, I would like both girls to go home.”
   “Huh?”
   “What?”
   “Why don’t you just suspend the other girl!”
   My eyebrows just raised. I could see where he was coming from. By sending both of us home, neither is left sitting here for endless amounts of time, and we can’t spread a rumor and get the other kids to lie in our favor. But there was one problem.
   “Sir, what about Ellie’s cell phone?” I asked, frowning. She probably has half the school on it.
   He smiled. “You’re sharp. But Ms. Ellie’s phone was taken during 3rd period today for texting in class.” Ellie blushed in shame, staring down at her hands.
   “Ellie! Is that true? We told you to stop texting in class,” her dad scolded, his face scowling. Ellie shrank back, attempting to sink into her chair. “That’s it. No electronics for the rest of the month.”
   “But Da-” Ellie protested, but was cut off.
   “No buts! You have to live with the consequences of your actions,” her dad cut her off. She slumped into her chair, defeated. “Please, continue.”
   The principal cleared his throat. “Now that that has been cleared up, you are all free to go home. The secretary will see you out,” he said, and returned to looking at his papers. We had been dismissed.

   As we got to the car, I coughed. I hadn’t been feeling in tip top shape, but I just blamed it on my bad luck. As I climbed into the passenger seat, I had a coughing fit, bad enough to where I had almost lay down on the pavement.
   “What’s wrong, Ira? Do you have a cold?” Mom asked once I got into the car. She reached over to me and felt my forehead, frowning. “You’re burning up, sweetie! Here, let’s get home and get you some medicine.”
   Figures. The way to finish off my misfortune day is to get sick. Yippe.
   When we got home, I laid down on the coach. The one advantage of being sick is that I didn’t get grilled by Mom about what had happened. She took my temperature, and declared it was 102 degrees. Yay. So while my brain fried, Mom gave me chicken soup, tylenols, and water to eat while I watched kiddy shows on the television.
   As I fell asleep, I only had one thought.
   I blame Mondays.
"I blame Mondays"
                    -Ira, 2015

Happy Memorial day! :flagofusa: Today I've submitted one of my old Creative Writing stories for you guys. This one, we had to write a story sorta like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day. And when you let me write about someone's bad day...

Oh, yeah. This IS NOT a true story. My teacher asked me if it was. So if you're wondering...

I may or may not have another fanfiction up by the end of the week (or by next month), 'cause Summer swim starts tomorrow. I'll try to write something, at least.

Link to upcoming pojects: amieclaryowens.deviantart.com/…

© 2015 - 2024 AmieClaryOwens
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TheOtakuPikachu's avatar
Really nice job!
//sighs
And now I shall spend the next five minutes thinking of ways to piss off Ellie--
//coughs
But anyways, I like it~!