Joined: 25 Feb 2010
Vengeance of an angry twelve year old girl
Now, I suppose I better start my horrible seventh grade year from what was notable at the
beginning. The first few days of school were just us getting adjusted to the new building,
where our classes were, and so on. However, I could not wait for the Wednesday of that
week, as that was when I would be having my first English class. English had always been
my favorite course, and as I intended to one day be a great author, I could not wait to
begin the creative writing process there. I had kept my fingers crossed that my English
teacher, who I heard was named Mr. Renemo, was at least half as nice, supportive, and cool
as my previous teacher, Ms. Drake.
Looking back, I should not have been stupid enough to get my hopes up.
Sitting down at my three-person table, sandwiched between the aforementioned and awesome
Josh and Shane Phillips, the most annoying boy in the history of mankind, my hopes were
high as Mr. Renemo entered the room, sitting down at his desk. His eyes were cold and
humourless as he took attendance. Still, I clung desperately to hope. Maybe he's just
trying to keep a strict demeanour to keep us order, since he's new. Lots of new teachers
get stressed and try that, but turn out to be pretty cool.
Mr. Renemo sat up, looking around the class.
"Welcome to seventh grade English. My name is Mr. Renemo, and I'll be teaching you this
year. Before we write a short story, I'd like to know what you all want to be when you're
older, to try to get to know you more. Be sure to tell the class your name, since we're
There! That's a good sign, Luce. My hand shot straight up, and, sitting in the
front, was the first to be noticed.
"My name is Lucy Morrison. When I'm older, I wish to become a published author -
preferably a science fiction or fantasy novelist." The class seemed altogether annoyed
with my manner of speech, but I ignored their judgmental glances and cruel-sounding
whispers and snickers. Mr. Renemo nodded at me. "So, why did you first decide you want to
do this, Lucy?" I smiled at him, and adjusted my glasses.
"Well, you see, ever since I was very little, I loved telling stories. The stories
eventually ended up on paper when I learned to type and write, and I felt no greater joy
than doing that all the time. As a result, I want to do it as a living."
Mr. Renemo rolled his eyes, bringing up more laughter from the class. "Well, let's hope
you don't accidentally write a thesaurus."
Although few people got the joke, I did, and I felt numb as he moved on to other people. I
bowed my head, trying to ignore the horribly irritating laughter coming from Shane. I felt
someone take my hand underneath the table. I turned to come face to face with the serious
face of Josh, his blue eyes sympathetic behind his glasses. My faithful blond friend
passed me a note in my hand, and I took it. Unfolding it, I recognized Josh's neat
printing. However, only three words were written on the paper.
What an ass.
I stifled my laughter as the questioning ended, noticing how Josh refused to put up his
hand and contribute. I couldn't help but grin.He is the best geeky rebel I'd ever
met, after all. Mr. Renemo handed out sheets of paper, and instructed us to write a short
passage on someone at school, much like us, who was suffering some typical teenage or
school-related difficulty. Grabbing my pencil with great enthusiasm, my hand flew across
the page. It was quite surprised I was the first to finish, but then remembered how
quickly I'd been going. Stepping up from my table, I brought Mr. Renemo the sheet. He
looked up, and then at the class. "Well, now, since Lucy was the first to finish hers, I
suppose she wants it read to the class." I could feel the color draining from my face.
"N-no, Mr. Renemo, that's not necces-"He cut me off by putting up his hand and glaring. "I
didn't ask your opinion, Lucy. Now take a seat."
After a collective titter rose and fell from the class, I sat down in my chair, shaking. I
could feel Josh's comforting hand touch mine under the table. Mr. Renemo read out from my
paper, his tone almost mocking, to my horror.
Tom pulled back the gossamer curtains of his windows, gazing out into the
distance. Another day in his personal hell. Sighing, he pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, and
made his way downstairs. Not even the sugary cereal tasted good anymore - rather, it
seemed to hold the same texture and flavor of sand. Swallowing with difficulty, he
lethargically pushed himself through all the morning rituals before getting on his bike.
Trekking through the rain, his arrival at school was met with jeers from the athletic boys
and snickers from the girls. He found himself already being shoved into rows of closed
lockers and being tripped. For just like an unfavored Athenian politician in ancient
Greece, he was ostracized. Except to have his name scratched onto pottery and sent into a
life of solitude would be a relief compared to this. This was ostracism coupled with
oppression, and no one was willing to stand by his side and lead a revolution to fight
Josh grinned at me, giving me a thumbs up under the table. The rest of the class didn't
seem to think so, however, as I could feel their stares on me. Mr. Renemo hardly agreed,
either, as his cold eyes bore into me while he pursed his lips. "You said you wanted to be
"Yes, Mr. Reneco."
"Well, I'm going to take this opportunity to suggest you look for another career in the
future. This is only in your best interests, as I doubt someone would ever want to publish
this purple prose. Anyone else finished?"
For the rest of the class, I felt my stomach go empty. Really, I couldn't bear to look at
anyone - my mocking classmates, comforting Josh, the horrible Mr. Renemo - no one.
Finally, just as the bell rang, I heard Mr. Renemo call out. "Tonight's homework: write a
short story on the same topic . Three hundred words minimum, please."
Shakily, I left the classroom with Josh, going to the lockers. Josh noticed the tears I
was desperately trying to keep back, and he put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, kid, listen
- he's a complete and total jackass. Don't listen to him." I forced a wry smile, and gave
it to Josh, nodding.
That night, after having a good cry, I devised revenge. Sitting at my keyboard, I began to
type. It was the tale of a young woman who was a very talented writer and wished to some
day be published. However, as her classmates only gave prestige to those who were
athletic, she was looked down upon as 'geeky'. To make matters worse, the girl's teacher,
who was secretly depressed and an unsuccessful, unpublished author himself, kept telling
her to never write for a living, and even ripped one assignment of hers apart, throwing it
into the recycling. A small passage of that resembled this: "This is a good
narrative," Mr. Temo told Linda. She beamed. "Good for the garbage. It's amazing how even
your largest efforts amount to nothing. And with that, he ripped the paper, shouting at
her that he'd give her a detention if she didn't stop crying.
However, the girl character triumphed at the end. Because by the age of fourteen, she
published a large series of sci-fi books, and was almost as renowned, popular, and
successful as J.K. Rowling. A movie franchise was in the works, and they were planning on
making attractions based on her books at a theme park, as well. As for the teacher (whose
name mysteriously rhymed with Mr. Renemo's, I might add) who had so humiliated her,
he drove his car off a cliff after getting drunk. Life was no longer worth living for him.
Grinning, I handed this in the very next day. By the end of class, I'd received a
detention for 'disrespectful conduct' along with Josh, who had laughed triumphantly at the
teacher's suicide when he read the story out loud to the class. However, some of my other
classmates even grinned at me or congratulated me. But believe me, it was worth it. And no
way was I going to be caught dead serving that detention, so I appealed to the principal.
Some messiness followed, but in the end, neither of us served. And the story of the
messiness is for another chapter, reader.