teacher, teacher | {python}
Jul 2, 2015 19:38:01 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jul 2, 2015 19:38:01 GMT -5
JAGGER WALES
[presto] " TALKING WITH A BIG SMILE BUT THEY HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE THEY'RE LIVING THE GOOD LIFE CAN'T SEE WHAT HE IS GOING THROUGH " |
"Cough, cough," goes the sick little boy. "Cough, cough," goes me. It's an on-going thing for me. I get really sick, my parents have to use money they don't have to keep be from dying on them, I feel great for about a month, and I get sick again. It's a simple cycle and it repeats over and over again.
It's the air. The putrid, poisoned air that the factories create. I have to breathe it every day and, mixed with my already-shitty immune system, it makes a deadly cocktail: side-effects including coughing one's lungs up, fevers up to a hundred and three degrees, and don't forget the weakness. Man, let me tell you, nothing makes the ladies look a guy's way like they do when he is running his throat ragged, sporting a temperature so hot he could fry eggs on his forehead, and walking slower than the old people who have been exposed to the very same air for decades more than he has even been alive.
So, that's my life, or what is left of it. I am sure within a couple of years the air will get me like it has gotten so many before me. That is if the Games don't get me first. Really, it is a race of time to see which method of death gets to claim my body. I should find it sort of scary, but I am mostly just interested by it. It's a nice thought that my death may be certain but the cause is not. It makes me seem more normal.
She has the brightest red hair I have ever seen, and the teacher has just appointed her and I to be partners. How sad for her.
I was never actually supposed to make it into this academy, but lucky for me, I am smarter than I seem to think. I came home from school (my old school, for the plain-folk with no super-brain or weak immune systems) and my mother told me I had a letter. It was opened, of course. Why parents think it's okay to open a piece of mail that is for their children and not them is beyond me. Anyway, she already knew I made it, so as soon as I slipped the letter out of it's envelope she started cheering and pulling me in for a hug.
I don't know if she was proud that I made it in, or that she would get to live out the dreams she never got to see happen through me. Either way, she was a bouncing ball of joy for the next week, and when my first day at the new school had arrived she practically ripped her face off from the anticipation. Nice.
"I'm sorry," I want to say to the pretty girl. "Of all the people in this school you have gotten stuck with... well, me." But instead, I just nod and wave as I take my seat next to her. "Now, you'll be spending a lot of time with your partners, since this project will count as your final in this class so get comfortable." the teacher preaches.
Between coughs, I turn to face the pretty girl. "Guess he is right. I'm Jagger."ϟ
table by zoe