Begrudgingly

I don’t even know why I’m still doing this, honestly. I mean, okay, it’s the fifth. I’ve only been at this for four days. I don’t know how I could want to give up already, but it’s so tedious to come up with stories, and they never turn out well.

I’ll do it anyway, don’t get me wrong. But I’ll do it, as the title suggests, begrudgingly.

I’ll do it begrudgingly later, though. For right now, I want to see if I can throw some words around and accidentally inspire myself.

Today was a fine day. The weather was nice, and, oddly, a bit on the cool side. My Spanish teacher continued to dig his little hole deeper and deeper in the two hours of the morning during which we were forced to endure him. One does not take his class, one simply endures it.

After that, we took the first half of the standardized math test. It was almost laughably easy, and the entire class finished within the first hour or so of the two hour class period, so we got the rest of the class off to hang out and talk. I wound up talking to some girls whom I don’t honestly like all that much. There are four of them. One of them is slightly irritating because she’s always fishing for complements, a quality which I find immensely off-putting. Another is very harsh, judgmental, and conceited, as well as self-important–another quality that never ceases to bug me. She insults people a lot, and she’s really defensive about anything that could be taken as an insult.

She felt the need to tell us a winding and confusing story, which sounded something like, “So, if there was a boy who said [whatever he said], and the girl said [something very defensive] and the boy told her that he [some sort of excuse] and the girl said it was okay, and then the girl’s friend told her [nonsensical advice that could only come from a teenage girl who only watches the Disney Channel], what do you think that means?”

Then, when I said something along the lines of, “So, you’re having problems with a boy who likes you and you kind of like him?”, she got very hot and bothered, looking around the room in an almost theatrical pantomime of I-hope-nobody-heard-you, and hissed, “Shhhhh! Keep your voice down! I don’t want anybody to hear!”

Nobody would have cared, and I tried to assure her of this, but she was not convinced. She continued to tell of her friend’s so-called advice, and kept telling us that this boy she liked was super hot and everybody liked him–but don’t look him up on Facebook, he takes really bad Facebook pictures.

I sing-songed, “Defensiiiivie…” and the other girls laughed but she smiled the most frightening smile and turned bright red and said, “I don’t–Wha?” or something like that.

She continued to tell us that he was partially Asian, “but he isn’t like most Asians,”–at this, of course, I was about ready to erupt with laughter–“I mean, he’s kind of smart and gets good grades and stuff, but he, like, rides his bike and hangs out with people and stuff…”

I interrupted her, “Asians ride bikes and have friends too…”

She pressed on. “But, like, he isn’t like the kind of, y’know, Asians, playing video games and watching Pokemon and whatever…”

I don’t know what she said next because the other girls and I–the four of us–started laughing too loudly to hear anything else. With my head in my hand, I said, “You racist bitch,” and we all just kept laughing for a good few minutes while she awkwardly stumbled to correct her blatant lapse in tact.

Nothing she said could have possibly made up for it, so I’ll spare you the details of her desperate apology to the Asian community as a whole and continue with her story.

“ANYWAYS,” she started again, in all caps, because that’s how this girl talks. “Well, he said, ‘Sure…’ in like this totally out-of-character way, like, ’cause he’s usually so, y’know, happy and stuff, y’know, and my friend was like ‘OH my God, just walk right by him today at lunch and wave and then don’t have lunch with him, DUH.’ Isn’t that stupidest thing ever?”

I had a feeling that she didn’t actually think it was the stupidest thing ever. In fact, I thought, she probably would have gone through with her friend’s plan had she not decided to share her plight with us advanced geometry students.

She also seemed to believe that nobody else knew anything about relationships but her, “because [she has had] THREE boyfriends before!” Three, in all caps, of course.

I kind of wanted to point out that out of everyone at the table, I’d probably had just a smidgen more experience in relationships than anyone else, because I actually have a healthy, steady relationship right now, and had a less healthy (but still steady) relationship last year, and besides that, I have a lot of friends who are upperclassmen and have had more experience in high-school-love than any of us. But I didn’t mention it because I thought it might be rude to interrupt her story, and to show off that I have a boyfriend and they don’t.

I’m sorry, by the way, if it seems like I’m showing off now. These are just the thoughts that went through my head at the time of these events.

Moving on with the story, though, this girl continued to tell of how dramatic her life was (it isn’t really dramatic at all, just so you know), and we tried to interrupt her with stories that would allow for more modesty, but she continued to talk down pretty much everyone she knows and brag about how much better she is than everyone she knows.

The bell rang at last, and I was almost too happy to leave for lunch, during which I hung out in the band room with some people who I think I should get to know better.

Some of my friends would rather I hang out with them all the time, which makes me kind of uncomfortable, because I really like meeting and learning about new people, but I don’t want to disappoint my friends. It’s just a vicious circle.

That’s enough for today. I think the story about the girl in my math class was enough for my Story A Day, and if I decide later that it wasn’t, I’ll just write something else.

Good evening, chickedies! See you soon.

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