The Mutant Chronicles

The Mutant Chronicles

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Chapter 1

“Bella Rose.”
“Hmm?” I raised my eyes from the book I was reading. We were in study hall; Rochelle and I. Rochelle is my best friend, and she’s also one of the truly beautiful people in our school. At John David McInerny High there is the ‘In’ crowd as well as the ‘misfits’ but it’s not the same way that I imagined high school when I was still a kid and watching movies like The Breakfast Club. What I mean is that sometimes the band geeks are the popular ones. No one wants to be the druggy and the cool girl happens to also be a brainiac.
That is how a person like me can end up having a lot of “friends”, even though I’m not pretty and I read too much. I’m probably too smart for my own good. But this is how it works; the beautiful people feel sorry for me and imagine that I am thankful for their attention. Also, it makes them utterly cool to hang out with me. Isn’t that a sign of popularity; when you are cool enough to be buds with the mutant? It’s the same story with the unattractive people; they are made beautiful in comparison.
This doesn’t mean that I haven’t been scarred by these very same people—scarred worse than the accident ever did. They are my friends but they aren’t. Does that make sense?
“Jay Pembroke keeps looking over here,” Rochelle said. I pushed up my glasses. I like wearing glasses and I used to wear the big bodacious ones--initially because it was something to hide behind. But now I have round glasses like Harry Potter or John Lennon, and somehow I feel a little bit cool in a-hipster-kind of-way.
“He is always looking over here,” she whispered because technically we are not allowed to talk. I glanced around and met Jason’s eyes. His head was resting on his folded arms and he really was staring. I looked away.
“Well you already got a boyfriend, and besides, he knows we’re talking about him so shhh,” I muttered while staring back down at the book I was reading.
Rochelle rolled her eyes at me. “Andre is not my man. He is just somebody that I pass the time with.” I saw her look boldly at Jay. “He definitely is no Jay Pembroke; jock, popular with his tall self.” Ooo she could be such a slut.
“You are going to get us in trouble,” I whispered. “Besides, running track isn’t a sport is it? Like…golf, isn’t a sport.”
“Meh. I think it is. Have you ever seen him run? Anybody that can run like that is definitely a jock.”
He was the best runner in the school. You didn’t have to be a basketball player, or on the football team to be a jock I guess. I’d never seen him run but I knew exactly how he looked. He used to mow our lawn in the summers; back when I was home schooled. I used to watch from the window hoping he wouldn’t see me. I’d been out of school two years and hadn’t seen much of anybody I knew. One day Mom asked me to go out and pay him and I begged her not to make me. I told her that I go to school with him and maybe she saw the desperation in my look. She didn’t make me go out there but the next year she did end my home-schooling.
After study hall I had American Literature. Wow, what a class. I get to read books that I would have read anyways—and then get A’s by writing what I think about them.  We are reading The Life of Pi about this boy who is trapped on a boat drifting at sea with these wild animals; how did he survive? You’re asking me? I do it every day.
After school, I walked home. I can take the school bus but I live really close to the school and can be home in less than twenty minutes. My Mom offered to buy me a car for senior year. I have no idea how she hasn’t figured out my plans for after senior year. I turned down the car because I didn’t want it as a reminder for my mom to have to deal with after I’m gone. Period. I made up a pretty convincing lie, though. I told her that when I turned 18 I’m going to use some of the money from my trust fund to buy a really nice one.
Truth is, I don’t mind walking and I do mind being on the school bus. People don’t mess with me anymore; one cool person stands up for you and the next thing you know, you’re cool, too. The problem is that basically only the younger kids ride them. I’m an upper classmen now and it’s just not cool—unless it’s raining, and then it’s less cool to ride the bus than it is to arrive at school sopping wet.  
I do consider myself a non-conformist. Yet, oddly, I do care about such opinions. This is the first week of the new year; my last year. And I intend to make it a good one, the best one. Can I squeeze everything that I want to accomplish into this last year? Yes.
Mom was at work, she doesn’t get home until nearly six. I started dinner because sometimes she is just really tired. I sent her a quick text to let her know so that she wouldn’t stop and pick something up. And then while the chicken and rice was simmering I finished up my homework.
After dinner Mom wanted to watch a Netflix movie and so we retreated to the family room where we have a nice theater/ entertainment area set up. I grabbed my laptop and navigated to my blog; The Mutant Chronicles.
Blogging is the perfect place for me. It is a place in which I don’t have to hide but where I am free to be a 17 year old optimistic/ pessimist, manic/ depressive suicidal freak who tries to pass it off as humor because that is what all the classy, depressed folks do.
 I typed; Pans Labyrinth just scared the holy crap out of me! What in the hell is that thing with eyes in his hands??? No more Netflix movies right before bedtime for me. Good night blog-followers.

to be continued...


  1. Corrections: Life of Pi
    We are reading The Life of about this boy who is trapped on a boat drifting at sea with these wild animals; how did he survive? You’re asking me? I do it every day.

    1. Thank you anonymous. I'll correct that!

    2. Sorry to be so blunt, internet not working properly before. Had to submit comment a few times just thought it best to get to the point. Interested to see where this goes

    3. Not a problem. I was just happy that no one slammed me for how short that chapter was. I looked at it after I posted and thought, damn, I've been writing for days. Where is the rest of it? Oh well, more to come.