Dream Sequence Part 3: High School Blues

Stepping out of the house, the first thought in my mind was, ‘is it spring already?’ My mother waved goodbye, wishing me luck at school today. Deciding on the scenic route, I walked to school, taking in the smell of the blooming flowers.

Upon arriving at school, I entered through the front door, checking in at the school’s front office.

“Hey, uh. I wanted to check if there was any make up work left for me,” I asked the clerk at the front desk.

“Name?” said the slightly overweight middle aged woman.

“Flynn Reid,” I said.

“Flynn...Reid!?” she said with surprise. After punching some things into her computer, she looked back up at me through her glasses. “Yes. You do in fact, have some make up work. In fact, I’ve never seen someone with this much work piled up.”

She headed into a room back behind the desk, and after a few minutes, came back with a huge stack of papers.

“There,” she said, dumping the stack into my hands.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, taking the stack of papers and shoving them into my backpack, heading out into the school’s courtyard. There, I saw it. A plaque out in the courtyard.

‘Rachel Harper Courtyard, dedicated to a beloved friend, a victim of drunk driving’

“Dedicated...to Rachel...dammit,” I muttered. “They only recognize her after she’s gone...”A pair of footsteps behind me made me look up.

“Stupid, isn’t it?” said a girl next to me. I recognized her as one of the popular girls. “Some bitch dies and they name the whole damn courtyard after her. If I knew it was that easy to get attention, I’d have started cutting myself.”

“Shut up...” I muttered, seething.

“Huh? What was that pipsqueak?” she taunted.

“I said. SHUT THE HELL UP!!!” I screamed. She just laughed.

“Oh, wait...weren’t you her boyfriend? Oh isn’t that cute? Skipping school cuz yer widdle girlfriend died? What an attention whore. You two deserved each other.” she cackled.

*Thump*

She crumpled to the ground after my fist connected with her nose, breaking it.

“I told you. Shut the hell up,” I said. She began to sob, clenching her bloody nose with one hand. Hearing the commotion, the dean ran up.

“What’s going on here!?” The dean demanded.

“He hit me!” she shouted. The teacher turned to me, seeing the blood dripping from my hand.

“The school has a zero tolerance policy for ****. You are hereby expelled. Leave campus immediately, or I’ll have to escort you out,” he said.

“Fuck this,” I said, tossing my backpack aside, completely done with school.