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Hi, my name is Sociopath
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 4.64 with 11 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-04-05 18:34:56 |
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Considering all the plays and things Carrot, TW, Rose and I have been writing, I came up with an idea: story series. When I describe what the characters did to get into the academy… keep in mind they’re not true and I DIDN’T become a missionary murderer, nor did I eat my neighbours Bull Mastiff.
:]
I’ll write this instalment, and then another one of us will write the next one and so on… we haven’t quite sorted out the ‘order of writing’ yet.
Dolls: Carrot hugging TW, girl with the black ponytail: Rose, Me [Laury].
xxx
Chapter One: New girl on the Block.
“On any other day I'd shoot the boy.” — Mayday Parade, When I Get Home You’re So Dead.
The wind gushed around the three girls stood at the gate—two of which were pushing their brunette hair behind their ears, while the black-haired girl pulled on the railings.
“I’m bored.” This was the usual statement that the middle-heighted girl made. In detail, you could tell she had teal eyes and freckles going from the left side of her face to the right. Her hair went down to her shoulders, and in free time the only thing she’d wear would be black shorts, a Lonsdale jacket and black shoes.
That girl was called Laury, a typical fourteen year old with one exception—she was in Palings Academy for Unruly Young Women for becoming a missionary murderer, and trying to eat her neighbour’s dog.
The black haired girl spoke, “No shxt.” The black haired girl had few freckles, a lovely smile and her fringe went way past one of her eyes. Her nose didn’t make much impact on her face—it was small. Her eyes were grey.
This girl was called Cara.
The last girl turned around and sat down, her back against the railings. She didn’t say much except, “I agree.” Nothing really needed to be said, if you looked down, deep into her beautiful eyes you could tell she was upset. Annoying, feared, angry.
This girl was, in fact, Rhiannon.
“Hey—who’s that girl? Is she coming here or is she going to St Josephs?” Cara suddenly pointed at a girl with black hair getting out of a silver car. She had the three girls’ uniform on.
“Oh, I think she’s coming here.” Rhiannon replied, planting herself firmly on the ground.
“She IS coming here. Her name’s Cassandra Rose, but everyone calls her Rose nonetheless. I heard Mrs Quinn talking about her to that new trainee cook. And I kind of snuck into Quinn’s office and read her report.
Her report was good—seemed as if she could help us murder Meg and her gang from St Josephs.” Laury explained, picking her nails and walking over to the opening of the gates.
They were locked tight, so the girl’s mother (the girls were presuming that’s who the woman was) had to speak into an intercom-typed thing to get to Mrs Quinn, the headmistress.
The other two girls followed Laury, arm in arm (yes, arm in arm. They were ‘married,’ as some people liked to call it). Cara smiled sweetly and pulled her fringe over her right eye. “Hi there, I’m Cara. This is my huswife, Rhiannon, and my sister-in-law, Laury. Why’re you here?”
The girl on the other side of the rails. “I—I have Sociopath. I tried to burn my cousin’s friend’s brother’s face off with mega-hot candle wax. No other boarding sch—academy could keep me. So, I’m trying this one.” She sighed. All three of the girls gasped.
“Awe—!” Laury started, but Rhiannon stopped her.
“What she meant to say was: we think you’ll fit RIGHT in.” Rhiannon smiled and glared at St Josephs across the road.
Rhiannon stared at the girl, whilst all three of them were wearing a simple grey skirt and a white shirt; somehow, the girl had managed to make her own form of bottoms: a black tutu-typed skirt with a maroon under.
You could tell it was made by the stitching, it was unprofessional, but it was very creative and stylish nonetheless.
I think we could bribe her to make better uniforms for us rather than the cloned ones that St Josephs have, Rhiannon thought.
This was going to be a long four years of Boarding School.
xxx
“Say, Rose,” Rhiannon sat on her bed. There were four beds in their dorm—the fourth was spare, but Cara had offered Rose the last one and she accepted.
“Yes?” Rose replied.
“I see you’ve made your own skirt, and I was wondering, could you make us three one? They don’t need to be the same as the one you’re wearing. They could all be unique.”
“Yeah, sure. Why?” Rose asked, pushing her suitcase under her bed.
“You see, that other academy across the road, that’s St Josephs, a posh, snotty school and their uniform in same as ours and stuff, and I thought it’d be better to ‘out-dress’ or ‘out-style’ them.” Rhiannon smiled at Rose.
“And some people say this sort of academy is supposed to be for crazy kids.” Cara sighed, reading a random book that she pulled from the library downstairs.
“Yeah, I know,” Laury replied to Cara’s statement. “Rhi can really be ‘nice’ when she feels like it, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I’m not usually like this,” Rhiannon explained to Rose, “you know. I’m not usually ‘all nice.’ But today I got a postcard from my mom with pictures of my dog, Noodles. Noodles is a man-eating Chihuahua, by the way. He’s not REALLY man-eating but I like to pretend he is. He’s top-dog.
That’s why I was put in here; I pretended that Noodles was man-eating and set him off on all my enemies back home in London. Speaking of London, I hate being here in West Yorkshire… Bradford really sxcks, don’t you think…?”
“I guess it does suck,” Cara giggled.
“Yeah, I guess it really, really does. But it has an advantage: Cineworld for the Free Time we have!” Laury laughed.
“Wait… we have free time? We have a Cineworld? Are you serious!? Do we have a train station? Can we go to Leeds or Halifax!? …Can … can we go ice-skating? Or to the Alhambra?” Rose just wouldn’t stop asking questions.
“Not ice-skating. There’s a boy there who I really want to shoot.”
Cara said the most random things. |
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