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rainbowfic2013-02-20 09:26 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2013-02-20 09:26 am
Iceberg #11, Peacock #15, Zing #6
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Iceberg #11 (ice skating), Peacock #15 (fierce), Zing #6 (I see you've set aside this time to humiliate yourself in public)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,259
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Cassie's first day of school.
Note: I feel like I've written something like this before. Anyway, enjoy Cassie not being a complete pill for once. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Dad," said Cassie. "It's just the first day of school. I'll be fine."
He frowned at her. "I just remember how scared you were the last time you started at a new school."
"I was six."
He held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. You're all grown up now, I get it."
A bell rang, indicating five minutes left before classes started. Cassie slipped away from her father and into the crowd of students streaming through the front doors Greenstone Junior High. She stopped briefly to wave at her father, and as she turned a tall boy knocked into her, almost sending her to the ground. He didn't even stop. He didn't even seem to notice that he had run her over.
She stood up as quickly as possible before any of the passing kids could kick her. She took a deep breath and felt in her jeans pocket for the piece of paper that had the room number of her first class on it. She had memorized both the number and the location--she'd found the room the day her father had brought her to be registered, because it didn't hurt to know as much as possible before the actual first day of school--but having the paper made her feel better.
Caught up in the wave of fellow students, it was hardly under her own power that she entered the front door and found herself standing in a hallway that ran to her left and right. Two large staircases loomed in front of her. Taped to the rail on the one on the left was a sign that said "UP" in big, bold letters. The staircase on the right had a matching sign that said "DOWN."
Her first class wasn't on the second floor, so she turned left down the hallway and walked until she found Room 137. English, taught by a Mrs. Rettick. Cassie slipped into the desk nearest the door, shoving her book bag underneath her chair. Her locker was somewhere in the basement; she hadn't had time to find it on the day she was registered, and she certainly didn't have time that morning.
The day hadn't gotten off to a good start. Cassie, anxious about her first day of school, hadn't been able to fall asleep until late the night before, and then she had overslept that morning. The cook had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but all she had time to do was grab an apple. She'd already missed the bus, which was why her dad had to drive her.
The tardy bell rang, startling Cassie, and her teacher walked to the front of the room as a last couple of kids rushed in and threw themselves into open seats. The room was full, almost all of the thirty seats taken by students in various stages of anxious/excited/bored. Mrs. Rettick herself seemed young, her curly brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She wore what Cassie had heard Amy refer to as "business casual": black shoes and slacks, a white shirt with a collar and a pale red pullover vest.
"Good morning," she said, taking her place at the front of the room. "This is Honors English 7. Everyone please make sure you're in the right place."
Cassie thought surely some had gotten the room wrong, with how full it was. But no one moved.
"All right," said Mrs. Rettick after a short pause. "When I call your name, raise your hand." She started reading off the attendance list. Cassie's was among one of the first names called off, and she braced herself for some sort of announcement that she was new. That was what had happened when she was six. Her teacher had pointed her out for everyone to see and it had been humiliating. Of course, it wasn't hard for new people to stick out at Millinocket Elementary. There had only been twenty kids total in her entire year, and all of them save her had been born and raised in that town.
But Mrs. Rettick didn't even pause after Cassie raised her hand, instead moving on to "Darren Brugera."
When the entire roll had been called, Mrs. Rettick put away the paper and said, "Now, let's do a simple getting-to-know-you exercise. We'll go around the room, and when we get to you, tell us your name and an interesting fact about yourself.
Several of the students groaned. Cassie bit her lip in fear. Why did every teacher have to do that activity? It was the one thing she dreaded at the beginning of every year, especially in Millinocket, where after a certain point everyone already knew each other. That wasn't true here, of course, but she still felt like crying. It was the "interesting fact about you" that always tripped her up. There was absolutely nothing interesting about her that she wanted to admit to. What were people supposed to say when there was nothing interesting about them?
She barely heard what the other students said as they started talking; she was too busy wracking her brain for something interesting to say. Because she had sat in the first row nearest the door and that was the row the teacher started with, it was soon her turn. She tried not to panic as thirty pairs of eyes turned toward her expectantly.
"I-I'm Cassandra Breaker," she stuttered. "Cassie. I mean, you can call me Cassie." She felt her face burning. Why was this so hard? "I'm, um, I'm allergic to strawberries." She closed her mouth with a snap, waiting for someone to call her on the lie that had just popped out. Surely Mrs. Rettick would say something, at least. Weren't teachers supposed to know about allergies and stuff like that? But the teacher merely moved on to the blond girl sitting behind Cassie.
As far as lies went, it wasn't the best. If she had planned to lie she would have come up with something way better than telling everyone she was allergic to strawberries. But she had meant to tell the truth, really. She just couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound even dumber than the allergy thing, so the lie had just come out.
She rubbed her face with her hands. She lied every day of her life; why should this be any different? There were so many things she could have said, if she was being completely honest: My dad's a movie producer with his own studio. My family's rich but I've always gone to public school. Eight years ago my mother and younger brother were killed in a house fire. I consider myself a Mainer even though I'm the only one in my family who does. I miss winter. I miss ice skating on the old pond near my old house. I'm afraid I will hate Florida. My older brother can read minds and sometimes I have weird dreams that come true. But none of those completely true things would ever leave her mouth. Of the things left about her that she would actually tell people, not a single one was interesting. She was so very ordinary. She didn't even have an interesting hobby. Mostly she just liked to read. And lie, but that was another truth she couldn't say.
Maybe it was because she hadn't meant to lie this time around.
She shrunk down in her seat as the last few students dutifully introduced themselves, and hoped the day wouldn't last too long.
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Iceberg #11 (ice skating), Peacock #15 (fierce), Zing #6 (I see you've set aside this time to humiliate yourself in public)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,259
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Cassie's first day of school.
Note: I feel like I've written something like this before. Anyway, enjoy Cassie not being a complete pill for once. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Dad," said Cassie. "It's just the first day of school. I'll be fine."
He frowned at her. "I just remember how scared you were the last time you started at a new school."
"I was six."
He held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. You're all grown up now, I get it."
A bell rang, indicating five minutes left before classes started. Cassie slipped away from her father and into the crowd of students streaming through the front doors Greenstone Junior High. She stopped briefly to wave at her father, and as she turned a tall boy knocked into her, almost sending her to the ground. He didn't even stop. He didn't even seem to notice that he had run her over.
She stood up as quickly as possible before any of the passing kids could kick her. She took a deep breath and felt in her jeans pocket for the piece of paper that had the room number of her first class on it. She had memorized both the number and the location--she'd found the room the day her father had brought her to be registered, because it didn't hurt to know as much as possible before the actual first day of school--but having the paper made her feel better.
Caught up in the wave of fellow students, it was hardly under her own power that she entered the front door and found herself standing in a hallway that ran to her left and right. Two large staircases loomed in front of her. Taped to the rail on the one on the left was a sign that said "UP" in big, bold letters. The staircase on the right had a matching sign that said "DOWN."
Her first class wasn't on the second floor, so she turned left down the hallway and walked until she found Room 137. English, taught by a Mrs. Rettick. Cassie slipped into the desk nearest the door, shoving her book bag underneath her chair. Her locker was somewhere in the basement; she hadn't had time to find it on the day she was registered, and she certainly didn't have time that morning.
The day hadn't gotten off to a good start. Cassie, anxious about her first day of school, hadn't been able to fall asleep until late the night before, and then she had overslept that morning. The cook had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but all she had time to do was grab an apple. She'd already missed the bus, which was why her dad had to drive her.
The tardy bell rang, startling Cassie, and her teacher walked to the front of the room as a last couple of kids rushed in and threw themselves into open seats. The room was full, almost all of the thirty seats taken by students in various stages of anxious/excited/bored. Mrs. Rettick herself seemed young, her curly brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She wore what Cassie had heard Amy refer to as "business casual": black shoes and slacks, a white shirt with a collar and a pale red pullover vest.
"Good morning," she said, taking her place at the front of the room. "This is Honors English 7. Everyone please make sure you're in the right place."
Cassie thought surely some had gotten the room wrong, with how full it was. But no one moved.
"All right," said Mrs. Rettick after a short pause. "When I call your name, raise your hand." She started reading off the attendance list. Cassie's was among one of the first names called off, and she braced herself for some sort of announcement that she was new. That was what had happened when she was six. Her teacher had pointed her out for everyone to see and it had been humiliating. Of course, it wasn't hard for new people to stick out at Millinocket Elementary. There had only been twenty kids total in her entire year, and all of them save her had been born and raised in that town.
But Mrs. Rettick didn't even pause after Cassie raised her hand, instead moving on to "Darren Brugera."
When the entire roll had been called, Mrs. Rettick put away the paper and said, "Now, let's do a simple getting-to-know-you exercise. We'll go around the room, and when we get to you, tell us your name and an interesting fact about yourself.
Several of the students groaned. Cassie bit her lip in fear. Why did every teacher have to do that activity? It was the one thing she dreaded at the beginning of every year, especially in Millinocket, where after a certain point everyone already knew each other. That wasn't true here, of course, but she still felt like crying. It was the "interesting fact about you" that always tripped her up. There was absolutely nothing interesting about her that she wanted to admit to. What were people supposed to say when there was nothing interesting about them?
She barely heard what the other students said as they started talking; she was too busy wracking her brain for something interesting to say. Because she had sat in the first row nearest the door and that was the row the teacher started with, it was soon her turn. She tried not to panic as thirty pairs of eyes turned toward her expectantly.
"I-I'm Cassandra Breaker," she stuttered. "Cassie. I mean, you can call me Cassie." She felt her face burning. Why was this so hard? "I'm, um, I'm allergic to strawberries." She closed her mouth with a snap, waiting for someone to call her on the lie that had just popped out. Surely Mrs. Rettick would say something, at least. Weren't teachers supposed to know about allergies and stuff like that? But the teacher merely moved on to the blond girl sitting behind Cassie.
As far as lies went, it wasn't the best. If she had planned to lie she would have come up with something way better than telling everyone she was allergic to strawberries. But she had meant to tell the truth, really. She just couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound even dumber than the allergy thing, so the lie had just come out.
She rubbed her face with her hands. She lied every day of her life; why should this be any different? There were so many things she could have said, if she was being completely honest: My dad's a movie producer with his own studio. My family's rich but I've always gone to public school. Eight years ago my mother and younger brother were killed in a house fire. I consider myself a Mainer even though I'm the only one in my family who does. I miss winter. I miss ice skating on the old pond near my old house. I'm afraid I will hate Florida. My older brother can read minds and sometimes I have weird dreams that come true. But none of those completely true things would ever leave her mouth. Of the things left about her that she would actually tell people, not a single one was interesting. She was so very ordinary. She didn't even have an interesting hobby. Mostly she just liked to read. And lie, but that was another truth she couldn't say.
Maybe it was because she hadn't meant to lie this time around.
She shrunk down in her seat as the last few students dutifully introduced themselves, and hoped the day wouldn't last too long.
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