Mostly she hates when people look at her like that. Like she is speaking in demonic tongues. Might as well have been. But she could always manage that wit and sunshine. One could never tell if she was being serious or sarcastic, because she always sounded so
cheery and chirpy. She twists around in that blasted infernal excuse for a desk, with her eyes darting around the room, betraying her relatively calm façade. Embarassment was racking through her in the form of fire up and down her spine. She hoped it didn’t show.She smiles widely at her attentive audience, blocking out her thoughts that question what they must be thinking now. What were they expecting her to do? Grow a beard? Exit by means of a flying saucer? Disrupt the space time continuum? They stare intently, as though she is a side show attraction. What? She wants to know. She’s not going to turn into an elephant, so stop gawking at her. How long had they been staring at her? It could have been eons. Oh, for
London ’s sake, this was beginning to get just plain awkward. She speaks finally, Unable to tolerate it. “ Oh I guess you guys were waiting for the part where I sprout fins. Sorry, but that show isn’t until tomorrow, so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”“ Okay…weirdo.” One boy remarks from the back row.Oh, COME ON! Weirdo? That is the best they can offer? Jesus, adolescence was sucking the creativity out of them.“The
name is Camille Sophia Kennedy, sorry to disappoint, but I understand you cant handle more than two syllables at a time, but don’t fret, ‘weirdo’ will suffice for now, I really don’t mind.” Camille Sunshine smiles all sugary sweet at them. She doesn’t anticipate a response. She knows they’ll sound silly when they try to top her.This sort of thing happens to Camille on a regular basis. She would rattle of answers and articulate like a college professor, and get the usual freaky extra terrestrial stare. Or she trips over something and gets a snicker or two then shrug it off. When the bell finally rings, freeing her from that deathtrap of a classroom, she sails out quicker than the speed of sound. Gazing very studiously around the somewhat dilapidated hallways,
Miss Camille can smell the corruption. Literally, actually, since a boy is smoking across the hall. She is wrinkling her nose in utter disgust as she pulls several books from her locker, which looks like it may disintegrate at any moment. A boy and a girl are standing with their tongues in eachothers mouths. “ Oh for phantasmagorias sake, have some dignity!" she says, as she is slamming her locker shut. She momentarily looks back at it, just to assure herself that it has not fallen apart. It has, for it is partially unhinged. She ignores this small occurrence, turning on her heels rushing toward the next class. Gym class. Not her best subject, considering she has the overall athletic
coordination of a one legged goose in a comatose. And she knows it, she even calls herself athletically inept. And make that socially inept, too. Toss in mathematically inept for that matter. She walks toward her daunting destination as though it she is about to be sacrificed via guillotine, in front of an audience. She would have taken that as opposed to gym class any day. Compared to physical education, a guillotine is like a tea party, she thinks.