Every day had the same rhythm in the painfully mundane town of Parthage, New York. Likewise, the people of it had fallen into a similar pattern. With the quaint atmosphere, coupled with the uniquely built houses made it a decent spot to settle down it, but oddly enough, attracted the most boring of folk. Amongst all the gray, however were a few burnt red sparks. Jayne Fish was one of these sparks.

    Now, Jayne was an unlikely girl with her curls of dirty blonde hair fluffed out at all angles from her scalp, and her green, deathly exotic stare that she could hold for hours if she wanted. She looked purposeful in all that she did, and was in fact very deliberate in her dealings. She spoke in ways that were intended to captivate. Her motive was that if she made it so, she could persuade anyone to agree with her- and she seemed to be quite successful, however only because her insane and excited behavior struck an odd fear into the hearts of those of her town. She wore a wide array of accessories that seemed to back the crazy stigma that she had surrounding her. She wore strings of colour and beaded feathers from her head, and such a variety of bracelets on each arm that it was almost impossible to find skin. Along with those she wore a softly ticking watch around her ankle, as if to be counting the time left before she stepped into her next adventure. Her clothing was always colourful and patterned with something floral or intricate otherwise.

    Jayne Fish and her family didn’t always live in Parthage. Previously the Fish’s were city folk. New Yorkers, to be exact. Jayne grew up as a fiere city kid, but her parents decided that it wasnt the right environment for a teen to live in, so her and her parents along with her two younger sisters and older brother changed location to the small town she previously never knew existed, and now despised with all the fibers of her ever beating heart.

~~brriiiing brriiiiinnnggg~~

“Unghh,” groaned a heavy headed and cloudy eyed Jayne and she raised a limp hand and flung it forward to the sleep button on her alarm. “Not today,” she whispered to herself, “noooot here.” Normally she’d be excited to get up and go through the motions, which against the phrase were usually new experiences all the time. But alas, she had awoken in...

“HELL. This is HELL!” She heard her brother Zac exclaim from the neighboring room. Jayne quickly blinked her eyes open and grabbed the cord to her alarm clock, and pulled.

“Agreed!” She yelled back. Satisfied in seeing the numbers go blank, she shimmied out of her pj’s and changed into her blackest of black shirt and greyest of grey skirts. She pulled her hair back into a tight bun and removed all of her bracelets. Looking into the mirror, her eyes glimmered deviously. She quickly changed expressions to a faux sullen one and applied the dreariest moods of makeup. Slapping her face out of a smile, and made her way slowly and mournfully down the hallway and spiral stairs.

“Hey honey, can you pass the syrup,” father Fish asked mother Fish.

A quick “Sure thing,” was replied before a bottle was tossed over her shoulder, on its way to Mr. Fish’s seat at the island counter. Unfortunately, this happening occured at the exact moment Jayne decided to make her entrance to the room. The syrup bottle whacked her in her scheming head the second she opened the saloon styled doors and stepped into the kitchen, causing her to lose character for a moment and burst out laughing.

    Mrs. Fish shot a glance over her right shoulder, turning away from the kitchen sink to look at her daughter. The gentleman Fish simply peered over forkful of food at Jayne, and shoved it into his mouth, rolling his eyes at her outfit and Jayne quickly returned to her prior expression and cleared her throat.

    “And what’s with this gettup,” her mother eyed it skeptically motioning up and down at it with her butter knife.

    “I’m not quite sure as to what you are referring to,” she replied sounding not quite as genuinely confused as she would have liked. “This is the proper attire for a mourning a death,” she added, forfeiting her attempt to pretend like there was nothing different from the usual.

    “You are correct,” her father agreed with his mouth full of pancake, “but what is the death that we are supposedly mourning this fine morning?”

    “Well, YOU are clearly not mourning. However, I am mourning the death of my happy life.”

    “Ugh, so melodramatic!”

    “Hows about you celebrate the birth of your new one instead, and be done with it?” Her parents both chimed in.

    “You mean celebrate what the exact purpose of my protest is? You already killed me, just let my rest in peace!”

    “She means not go to school,” whispered Mr. Fish to the Mrs.

    “Oh, no. No no no. Just because you think we killed your life does not give you the right to put me through hell for my decision to better it! You are going to school that is final. And you are going in less than 20 minutes. So get changed or dont get changed, you are going. And just so you dont skip out on the bus, your father will take you and watch you march your grey self into that school!”

    “RRRrrgh! FINE, but I absolutely REFUSE to eat breakfast. It probably tastes burnt from the flames of this damned place!” Jayne exits stage left.

This is it. This is purgatory. The last stop before the big H E double hocky sticks. So, my little protest in front of my parents wasnt a huge success. Well, then… I guess I’ll just have to find another way. I refuse to spend one day further in that God forsaken place. Grant it, I havent actually step foot in it yet- but I already know whats inside. Or rather, what isnt. What isnt inside are Malyssa and Brady, the two most interesting friends a gal could have. What isnt inside are my favourite teachers. The ones that are laid back, chill, and understanding like Mr. S, B and Mr. K. And what absolutely isnt inside is my home. My identity. Where I belong. Where I should be. Where my future could be shaped. This is a school. But its not mine. And I predict, and I can feel that this is true- honestly, that this year is going to be my undoing. Its going to absolutely be the end of a beautiful era and the start of who the heck knows what? I. Am. Doomed.

On the brighter side- the grass smells really nice and the outside is prettier than at my old place…. I make my entrance with eyes closed and mouth in full grimace.

The door shut itself with a annoyingly gentle click behind me. The kind that just didnt satisfy the moments needs. It needed a distinguished and dramatic thud. But no, it just had to close softly with a click. Omen number one, bad entrance. And that IS a bad omen. No exaggeration. Have you ever seen a fabulous musical or play without a good beginning entrance. The answer is no! Once you screw up the beginning, the audience is critical throughout the entire performance, and its hard to win back the magic. And lets face it, I already was doubting the magic. Its going to take a hell of a pixie dust storm to restore my glittering faith in this move.

Omen number two: total, and extreme embarrassment. In all of my huff I hadnt got the chance to change my clothes. First impressions are the absolute most important time to introduce the mood of a situation. My mood was now stuck in a boring, monochromatic scheme. I mean, Im pretty sure I wore this skirt to my Great-Aunt Hildie’s funeral! But it was decided. If I was going to make a proper protest, I might as well not back down now. Alice Paul and her crew of women stuck through their statement outside the whitehouse in rain and storm. When they were thrown in jail, it didnt stop. This place is my jail. And I refuse to make down. For Fish’s rights, and for the right of us all. We should maintain the power to choose whether or not we go to school in a strange place. Whether or not we obey our very very wrong parents, and whether or not we impress that totally attractive guy passing by my left side in the hallway right now.

Stay strong, Jayne. I mean, look what your wearing. Now is not the time. We have to stick with our Wednesday Addams-esque motif now. Lets dazzle, or rather scare, the crowds. Lets get kicked out of school.

--

Determined to stay in character, I traveled at an obnoxiously slow pace for the people behind me that were actually trying to make their ways to their first period classes on time. Lucky for me, I was not the slightest bit concerned for my record now going to be labeled “tardy.” In fact the more time it took, the better.

A solid ten minutes went by after the bell herding students to classrooms went off, I had finally gotten all that I needed from my locker and dragged myself to my own room. Without further ado, I stepped into first period Chemistry with Mrs. Hittelbens. How cliche is it that during my very first day of school, the very first period mind you, I had to choose a chemistry partner and-even worse- get to know them. I felt so very sorry for the poor bastard that got me as their partner while I was wearing my protest.

Terrified. That is the look I’d say he had on his face. It was the boy’s expression that was at the only table with another empty chair available. Well, at least the only one I was allowed to sit at. Apparently it is frowned upon by the teacher for those who want to work alone to do so. Not that I am specifically some antisocial gal or anything. I adore people. Well some people. And these people were not those select few; looking down the rows at them I witnessed, at the very least, seven look alikes. Apparently there is only one clothing store and salon in this town. They all had the same outfit types, straightened hair, and matched the same colour orange in fake tans. Although, I suppose I shouldnt judge to harshly at that. There seems to be only one way to get a little sun around here. And its not by walking outside. It has already snowed some and we’re just in the month of september! This is supposed to be upstate New York- not Northern Canada. Everyone here just played that one off saying, oh well there will be low 80’s next week.

Superb. Now my internal monologue is rambling about the weather. It must be the boring rubbing off on me.

ANYWAY, I waltzed over and took the seat in my hand, slowly pulling back on it for dramatic effect. With all eyes on me, the chair made a slow and dreadful moan from being rubbed against the horribly coloured tile flooring. This was perfect. With everyone staring, and mouths shut- it was my perfect entrance. The one I had been itching to perform.

I sat down on the stool at the work bench and pulled myself towards the table, forcing the scream out of my chair one more. All settled. Let the day begin, and be my last at this rancid place.

-GULP- I heard from the kid to my left. A thin, dark haired boy with thick, black frames cleared his throat. Turning to face towards me, his lenses under his dark fluffy hair flashed reflected light like a stormy clouds lightning into my falsely dead eyes. He did this merely in response to the teachers reprimand at his not greeting me or explaining what I had missed.

“Uh, hello there.” He said wiggling his lips up into a nervous semi-smile that looked rather odd when paired with his curiously expressive eyes.

I made no response, pleased by his uncomfortable wriggling, although I did pity the unfortunate fellow. Normally I’d say something to make him more comfortable and relieve the stress. But not today. Today I am not me. I’m the oddly gothic student who will mysteriously transfer out of the school as soon as possible for reasons that gossip will happily exaggerate.

“Um so, should I catch you up, so you know what we’ve covered today? I- uh I took some notes here… if you’d like to look at them…” He gestured towards his notebook, trying so desperately to make an attempt to help. He waited a moment and then continued, “Ooor you could just sit there. Thats, uh, super too. Alright. Um I’ll just be over here.” He quieted down with each mumbled word until he eventually was altogether halted in his reluctant speech.

I slowly turned my forward facing head until I was facing his, and stared hauntingly into his eyes. I could just imagine this scene ending up in some horror flick somewhere. Unfortunately, I couldnt stifle my urge to let out a giggle. I couldnt help it! Luckily, though, it was almost inaudible to everyone but the boy, who in response cocked his head slightly to one side. His nervous eyes transformed to puzzled ones.

“Right,” he let out, slightly more confident. “Well, Im Ben.” He then held out his hand in front of me, turning his body to face mine. Looking down at it I altered my expression quickly back to a neutral condition and whipped my head to the front of the room, leaving his attempt at a friendly shake for dead.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

--

    Saved by the bell. I believe that is the phrase used in place of “Holy CRAP, that was close!” I almost gave myself away. Fortunately we kept our contact afterward to the bare minimum for the remainder of the class (which was mostly stupid demos, and trite rules and regulations told every year). I was happy that for me, since it was the first day, I didnt have to do any real work. Its all just “paying attention,” and “listening” to syllabuses and introductions.  

    I stepped out of the room and into the hectic chaos of the hall and watched as Ben tried to throw himself into the flowing crowd- only to get knocked back by some girl in an apparent rush. He was thrown so hard, he stumbled back and his carefully perched glasses flew off of his head. He looked so pathetically like the cartoon character Velma in Scoobydoo that I just had to help. I gave in and stomped over to him, picking up his glasses and handing them to him forcefully. I hate when I have to break character.

    “Here,” I huffed, “And I’m Jayne.” And, I marched away the moment he had them in his hands not daring to glance back at the expression of surprise undoubtedly plastered on his face.

    “Wait!” I faintly heard from behind, but the voice was muffled by the hundreds of others in the hallway, and I didnt care to turn around.

--

    Class went smoothly for the next 3 periods. In gym we just chose our course sets. Im in the coed junior class, yippee. In English we sat in our individual seats and listened to the teacher drone on and on about things we had no use for, like how Okonkwo in some book they read over the summer was actually not so bad as a guy as thought. And in American we talked about how this year was going to suck and that it takes a lot of work to say, memorize the presidents; something I did already years ago back in my school. Fourth period though. That was where I loved the most, but dreaded going. Theatre Class.

    When I stepped into the schools theatre, the scent hit me. It wasnt a bad one. It was a dusty smell of memory and wonder. Full of the energy that danced across this stage before us. It was the smell of sawdust, paint, and the salty tears that were stained into the wood from whatever drama happened the last show performed. This was the one redeeming quality of this place. The mere SIZE of this theatre sent shivers of excitement down my spine. I couldnt help but compare it to the one in mine, which was the approximate size of of one of the classrooms here. Just slightly bigger than the classrooms back at my place.

Walking in dazzled amazement I stared up at the stage, which was shining with the only light in the room. The rest of the auditorium was dark, with the slightest reflected light from the stage. Not even paying attention to where I was walking, I slammed face first into an undetermined figure that was hiding in front of me. Although even if the lights were on I would not have been able to solve the puzzle of who, since I knew absolutely no one here besides Ben. And honestly, if it weren’t for his eyes and glasses I probably wouldn’t even be able to recognize him.  

“Woah, slow down little lady,” spoke the figure that was just a head taller than I was. His scent was hard to pinpoint, but it was something warm and relaxing. Sort of like those bubble bath fizzy balls you get when you’re a little stressed and want to release tension. Yep. He smelled of relaxing fizzy soap. Thats it. Anyhow, he gently rested his hand on my shoulders, the heat from them warming my skin, and carefully pushed himself a foot or so away.

I looked up at the stranger, only able to make out the whites in his eyes, and the outline of his curious smile. “Oh, my apologies,” I breathed out almost too low to hear. It was just then that the lights flicked on, and the stranger, now fully formed, removed his hands from my shoulder.

“Lights, students, action!” yelled an excited man that had just flung the door at the back of the auditorium open. “Class is now in session. Get your hellos and summer catch ups out of the way, because we are just about to begin your very first day of the many wonderful to come!” He boomed, creating intricate echos around the room as he moseyed on down the aisles to the base of the stage. Chatter sparked all around me. It was then I realized that the boy had already crossed the room to the stage where his, I assume, friends were and began joking with them. The teacher had also disappeared. It only took me a minute to find that he had hidden himself behind the red velvet curtain on stage right. It rustled and waved, as the teacher floundered around. He seemed to be looking for something in particular.

“Ah, yes!” He let out, announcing his satisfaction. He came out from the curtain holding a very well worn and graffitied semi-globe. It was horrendously sawed in half, and then covered in a sea of show titles and programs. It also had land masses of names and the classes each belonged to, dating back to the 80s. “Now, is everyone finished discussing their hopefully drama filled summer stories?” Everyone quieted down, and located his direction with the eyes and bodies. “Does anyone know what this is,” he questioned, raising the hand that now balanced it in its fingers, and motioning at it enthusiastically with the other. The way he motioned reminded me only of Vana White on the Wheel of Fortune. At least half the class raised their hands, and I could tell the other half really wanted to if they would only pick the answer off of the tip of their tongues.

“You sir, in thy blue coloured garment!”

“That would be the Fates Sphere.”

“Correct! And can someone tell me what the point of the Fates Sphere is?”

“You choose your own fate.”

“Correct, again. You hear that class. No blaming me for the partners that you receive. It is between you and fate who you get to work with. Now, circle up on the stage, and we will pass this around. It already contains each and every one of your names so grab a single slip, and pass the globe on. Once you get a name, call it out so that your partner leaves the line. If you get a name that already has a partner, dont worry Im sure the fates will throw you two together at some other point if it is destined to be so! Without further ado… Alaiya, you go first.”

And the games began. Alaiya, the tall, dark, and beautiful grabbed the globe. Looking down at my own outfit made me a little self conscious standing across the circle from her. All the boys seemed to stare eagerly at the hat in her hands, all probably salivating at the chance to get to know her.

“Jianna.” She announced with a smile. Apparently the two were already friends, as they took off to the side of the stage giggling. Next was a guy who was, I assumed was just nicknamed, Eagle. His punk rocker look definitely worked for him. Snakebite lip rings and all.

“Karissa.” He stated apathetically. The two paired off and went to the side keeping a strangers distance and not really talking much. Karissa made a few attempts, but his earbuds were in, and he seemed to be distant. After that, a few more went until it got to some jerk named Ash. He took the word tool to a whole new level. He wore his hat in the oddest fashion. It sat on the top of his head twisted slightly to the side. On top of his head literally meaning on the top of his head, like he wasnt even really wearing it. I had no idea why he didnt just pull it down. He wore a white tank with a gold chain, red sport pants with white stripes down the side, and white socks that went to his mid shins with his red Nikes. When the globe was passed to him, he nodded at his buddy, the dude I knocked into earlier, and smiled like he was expecting to get sex from whomever he chose.

“Jayne?” He said out loud in form of a question. “Who the hell is Jayne.” I rose my hand in a matter of fact way, just to piss him off further that he didnt get who he wanted but instead got me. “NO. There is absolutely no way Im working with this freak! She’ll probably murder me,” he angrily stomped, looking around for anyone to volunteer a trade or some way he could get out of this.

“The Sphere of Fate does not lie! It put you two together for a reason. Find it out.” Said the teacher snatching the globe away from Ash who was frantically searching through it again looking for another girls name. “Ah, ah, ah. You and Jayne. Now.”

He glanced at me again and rolling his eyes, “I think Im gonna be sick,” he mumbled with a motion of his middle finger down his throat.

“Hey asshat, you arent the only one,” I shot back strutting past his and bumping his arm. His friend glanced over at me and smiled.

“Looks like Im not the only one that won’t take your shit,” he hit his friend semi-jokingly in the shoulder and gave him a shove towards the direction I was walking in. “Sorry about my friend Ass- I mean Ash, here. He cant go against the prophecy that is his own name.”

I turned and walked backwards for a few seconds, just long enough to make eye contact with the boy again, and then back around to the corner of the stage. Once the fates had finished deciding our doom and everyone was paired up, directions commenced. The activity was apparently to come up with a skit during the remainder of our time and be ready to present it by tomorrow. Ash made groans and moans like he was just stabbed 36 times in the chest but somehow still alive enough to have the breath.

"Dude. Who's your partner," Ash whispered to his friend.

"Amy, why?"

"Switch with me!"

"No."

"Why, do you sti-"

"No." He breathed out sharply. "We'll get in trouble and its only the first day. We talked about this. We gotta stay below the radar if we want to stay on the team."

"Dude just SWITCH."

"'Dude,' NO."

"Ehem," cleared the throat of a big blue eyed blonde. "I would like to have a say here," she said sweetly. "How about I just go with Ash. And Max, you can hang out with Freak Fish here." Max's face looked like he'd just been kneed in the- well you know, and he nodded slowly grabbing my wrist will narrowing his eyes at Ash.

“Ow,” I interjected attempting to distract him from his passively furious mood as we stomped towards the opposite side of the stage. “Ow-ow… OW, let go of my wrist,” I commanded, then adding a fierce, “or I will make you.” He flicked his eyes is my direction, let go of my arm, and darted his eyes away. “Look, you dont have to be my partner. I’d rather just work alone,” I said not only channeling my character but sincerely meaning it. Working with someone who looks down upon me for the clothes I wear or status I have was not one of my favourite pass times. In fact, it disgusted me and clearly there was some tension in his posse that I’d rather steer clear from. No need to make myself suffer more than I already am in this hellmouth. Im leaving soon anyway. Just two more periods until lunch. Thats where its all going down.

“You can’t work alone,” he blurted.

“Is that a matter of fact? Or are you challenging me?” I quickly quipped nodding my head in a sassy three snaps fashion.

“Fact. This is a partner activity. You cant do both parts.”

“Watch me. I once did a one woman show for my friends, and I was stupendous.”

“Fine. Hows about a bet?” He loosened up a bit, and even let loose a small but devious grin.

“A bet huh? Any rules?” I have to admit I was totally breaking character.

“Idea is we both make skits on our own and present them tomorrow. Whoever get the gold star ge-”

“The gold star? Thats a thing?” I had to interrupt. I mean, Im all for shining and stardom, but in the small shape of a gold sticker? No thanks. My dreams are a tad bit bigger than that, thank you muchly.

“Yeah its this thing he does all year. Mr. S likes to see who can get the most stars throughout the year and if someone exceeds 150, they get out of the final presentation with the grade of a 90. I mean if you want to get above that you still have to present, but apparently its almost unheard of to get more than an 86…. my POINT was that whoever gets the gold star wins.”

“And the wager?” I raised my left eyebrow in anticipation.

“Im getting to that! Dont rush me.”

“Out with it already! Or I’ll drink your blood or something.”

“Ah there it is. I got it. If I win, you have to tell me what the hell is up with your outfit. Whats your life story, and why would you come here?”

“Which do you want me to answer if you win? Why Im wearing this or my life story?”

“Dont they go hand in hand?”

“Ever hear that phrase about assumption?”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. “The latter, then.”

“Alright well, if I win then you have to tell me what happened back there with the jerk and the bitch.” His face turned stone cold.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. And you know what. You never will. Choose something else or bets off.”

“Thats not how this works, and it was your idea.”

“Well, its off.” He said sharply and stalked off.

    Like I said Hellmouth.