hello from the other side |arctic|

The girl with annoying black hair sits two desks in front of me. She twirls her long hair, and all I can think of is grabbing an axe and chopping the head off. It comes off like my shoes, and her hair is mopped over her unattached head. Her body slumps in the chair she sits in, and then, it is motionless.

With a blink of a pair of eyes, she is missing no limbs. If Pepper wasn't constantly asking to see my drawings, I would definitely make that work of art on paper. Pepper told me I was descriptive all my life. In some cases, it helped her get a better knowledge of me, but in others, it just gave her more reasons to worry about me. She has no reason to worry about me. The constant concern in her voice shows me that Pepper Botts is not one to give up. She is not one to forget.

Kameron Venn. Her brother was in the Hunger Games, and after he died, murdered by his own friend, she has never been the same. She is less perfect, but her popularity in school has grown. Popularity is disgusting, and I'm not just saying that because being popular is not my forte. It is just a huge contest on who is of more importance. And if there is nobody to tell you you are important, then you won't believe it either. Being popular is like having a motivational squirrel by your side at all times. Some people have plenty (their attention crowd), and others have none. I have no motivational squirrel, no weird animal to tell me to "Gopher It!"

Kameron stands up and turns around. Her face is bloody in my mind for a single second. No eyeballs, just blood oozing from her head. My imagination goes wild to those who anger me. I have to continue to withhold my anger because I don't want Pepper to get another note from my teacher. I don't want Anthony to give me an unneeded pep talk. But withholding anger is like poison. The more to try to conceal it, the more it'll kill you.

I don't need a ping if I'm not talking to anyone specific, so I mutter out some words.

"Make way for the Queen," I try to make it unheard, but my voice has never been quiet. I scooch my chair to the side to make way for the idiot. All of them are idiots. Clever. Slack. Pepper. Anthony. They think something is wrong with me. They think I'm not right in the head. But I can assure them that I'm not crazy, no I'm not crazy. I'm a badass bitch that's saying hello to the other side of life.