Beautiful Beasts, S. E. Gutierrez [classic books for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

I hated school. Scratch that, I hated the people that went to school. All the stuck up sports players and cliquey I'm-so-much-better-than-you girls really rubbed me the wrong way. On top of that, all the so-called nerds acted like they were so far above everyone else. The only kids that were half-way decent and accepting were the artsy kids, but none of them were quite like me. I guess you could say I was loner. No one was really like me, and I really didn't like anyone else. I was an almost typical nerd.

I trudged up the stairs to my next class. It was by far one of the hardest classes and killed just about everyone in there, that is except me. When someone says APUSH everyone quivers with fear and stress. APUSH stood for Advanced Placement United States History, and was taught by a Mr. Wong, who was well rehearsed in the art of snobbery and foolishness. I prepared myself for the worst as I opened the classroom door, and sat down. I checked the board for the opening activity and took out my notes.

I was half listening to the lecture, and half zoned out. My pencil flew across the lined paper, and my thoughts drifted. The announcements speaker blared, and disrupted class. I listened to the squealing voice of some cheerleader advertising over-priced early-bird prom tickets.

The squealing finished and class resumed and ended. My last class was Intro to Art. I finished my notes, packed up my messenger bag, and trudged back down the stairs. I made the trek across campus to the Fine Arts building, and stopped in front of Mrs. Studebaker's door. It was covered in bits and pieces of paper with quotes, lyrics, and pictures on them. Her classroom was the same way, too. Covered in snippets of her life. She was my favorite teacher, unlike Mr. Wong with his pompous sneer and arrogant glare. I opened the colorful door, and took my seat in the very back of the room. We were doing paintings of landscapes and people. I set up my paints, and covered the table in newspaper. The school district decided to take all of the Arts money and give it to the cheerleaders so Mrs, Studebaker was stuck with cheapie paints and broken easels.

I started my painting, following the lines of my sketch. The crappy paint spread across the canvas, and turned into trees and lakes and grass. I mixed color after color, and watched as bushes came to life, and water seemed to move. I have to admit, I was pretty artsy for my being a computer nerd. I knew every Microsoft program, and every color in spectral order. I knew how to how to hack a security camera in under five minutes and the name of every kind of pastel, pencil, and pen. I was just your not so typical computer nerd, complete with hipster glasses and semi-long hair.

I continued painting, and when I decided it looked almost descent, I cleaned up, and grabbed my bag just as the bell rang. I slipped my bag over my shoulder, and left, waving goodbye to Mrs, Studebaker. I walked across campus, and started the thirty minute walk home.

School was finally out, and I strutted to my beautiful baby blue Corvette and turned the key. I checked my makeup in the rear-view mirror and applied a little more powder to my already flawless face and sped off. Five minutes later, I was pulling into the driveway and sitting on my fancy couch in my fancy room in my fancy house. My family was all about fancy. We tolerated nothing but the best and didn't care what the cost of it was.

My room was huge, the same size as the master. I had my own sitting room, dressing room, and en suite bathroom. I shimmied out of my skin tight, bright red mini dress, and kicked of my super sparkly name brand tennis shoes, stepped into the tub, and filled it with steamy water. I soaked for at least two hours, and decided my homework would just have to stay untouched. I finished my bath, and continued to pamper myself, and made the housekeeper-slash-maid give me a manicure and pedicure. I inspected each nail, checking for any flaws. My right hand was fine, but the stupid lady got polish on my cuticle on my left hand.

"Uh, Janis, redo this hand, you messed up." I ordered.

"Yes miss." she answered timidly, and got out the nail polish remover.

When she finally got it right, I stood up and left her to whatever it is that she does. I let my nails and toes dry as I sat on my plush king-sized bed and surfed the internet. I checked up on all the latest gossip, and started a few new rumors about some weirdo with wanna-be hipster glasses and a total nerdy appearance. And after all, appearance is everything. I said that some teacher asked him to stay at school and discuss why he was so weird and why he was utterly depressed and violent. I heard somewhere that he was on anti-depressants and they whacked him out, but before I started the verbal flames, I sent him a Facebook freind request and sent him a message, sounding as sickly sweet as I could.

Hey Johnny,

I started. I saw you in school today and you seemed super sweet. Maybe we could be the besetest of friends?

Love Natalie Kay Howards

Not even five minutes later, I got a message back.

Natalie,

I don't know who you are, say hi to me first before you send me a random friend request. By the way, my name is John, or Johnathan, not Johhny

Thanks,

J

That was utterly rude, and I fired an nasty gram right on back.


Be prepared for school tomorrow, your social life is officially over. Have fun with your anti-depressants! ;)

I smiled smugly, knowing that I was about to throw an undeserving nerd down to the bottom of the metaphorical high school food chain. He sent me back another message.

Natalie,

Seriously, you think I have a social life? Nobody knows my name anyway, so have fun! Oh, and don't forget to do this weeks English prompt, wouldn't want you to have a blemish on your perfect record. And please just leave me alone, what did I ever do to you?

J

This infuriated me! How was he so unfazed by my threat? It mad no sense, so I sent him another message.

Ugh, you're so rude and infuriating!!!! And what makes you think I care about that stupid English paper?! You're so ugly and acne-faced it's disgusting!

I sat there angrily staring at the laptop screen until he replied.

I'm sorry you feel that way. Everyone always say how drop dead gorgeous you are, but really, you're nothing but a rotting beast on the inside. I don't have to deal with it, you do, and I am truly sorry for you and what you've done to yourself.

That was it. He logged of and that was it. I was stunned. He called me a beast! I slammed the stupid pink laptop closed and let it slide to the floor. I sat on my bed, staring at my frilly room and my designer clothes and my salon hair products and my Sephora makeup and my ten-dollar-a-bottle nail polishes. This is what everyone wanted. The best and most expensive of everything. Guys wanted me, and girls wanted to be me. I flopped back into my expensive fluffy pillows, and fell asleep.

I worked on my hours of homework, thinking about how rude Natalie was to me, and how mean I was to her. I couldn't believe she wanted to spread rumors about me, a kid she thought was ugly and pimple-face. She had no idea that my skin was crystal clear. I couldn't believe I called her a beast. I stared at my APUSH paper and glanced at the start of my English assignment. I threw my face into my hands, and wished I hadn't been so cruel. I logged back onto Facebook and sent Natalie a message.

I'm sorry.

J

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and I was sorry. I felt awful, and apologizing didn't help whatsoever. I felt like I was a beast on the inside to. I forced myself to shove those thoughts into the dark recesses of my mind, and continued to work on my infinite amount of homework.

It took forever to finish everything, and even longer to fall asleep. I tossed and turned all night, thinking of how awful I'd been to Natalie. I rolled over and checked the time. My alarm would go off in an hour, and I groaned, and stared at the ceiling. I decided to go for a walk, and threw on an old pair of sweats and a baggy T-shirt. I crept out of my little room, and down the hall. I silently opened the door, and stepped out into the almost chilly air. It was around four in the morning, and I was going on a walk. I shook my head at how absurd that sounded. I lived in the not-so-pleasant part of town, where you always looked over your shoulder, and never ever went down an alley.

I walked to the tiny little park with the tiny little playset, and the surprisingly large, natural lake.