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              “No, I didn’t hit him in the balls, ass hole.  He was bleeding.”

              “Did you cut him?”

              “No!” She laughed.

              “Then, what did you do?” Scott asked.

              “Shut up.” Carissa’s snapped. Scott got to her.  He felt his work was done.

              “So what are you going to do about the grass?” Rob said being attentive to more pressing matters.

              “Yeah, I had my money on it too,” Carissa shoved Scott.

              “What do you want me to do?  I can’t crawl into the fucking sewer and fish it out.”

              “You gotta job.  I’m sure you can spare a hundo to make up for the bag you lost,” Rob said.

              “What do think I am made of money?”

              “Oh, I’m sorry dad,” Carissa said, “but you lost it.  Again.  You gotta get some more.”

              “Yeah, you better get me some smoke, or else.”

              “Or else what, Rob?” Scott said with confidence.

              “Well, I haven’t thought that far.”

              They stopped for a moment at the brick steps leading to the front door of the school.  Maybe they were thinking about skipping, but the temptation was not great enough so they all walked up to the metal detectors and set their bags on the conveyor belt. 

              A trophy case stood just beyond the threshold.  They did not notice it every day but a glint caught Carissa’s eye as she walked passed.  Once before, she had stopped to look at the relics of former glories.  She found that the school had once had a great football team (which in this part of Texas was a must).  But the dates on the trophies had run out about ‘92 and they had not made it to the playoffs ever since.

              Carissa had also seen a memorial plaque to a boy that had died when he was fourteen.  He had the same last name as Rob.  She had wondered if they were related but never asked.  Carissa had her own old memories she did not want to drudge so she left this one alone just in case this was one of Rob’s skeletons that was better left alone. The plaque read “Steven Welch 1980-1994. Our hearts are broken with the loss of our son.”  The boy in the picture resembled Rob slightly but not enough to tell if they were family.

              The main hallway, claustrophobic with the hundreds of faceless students lining the walls, spread in front of them.  Lockers imbedded on each side.  “See you, later,” Carissa said touching Rob’s arm as he and Scott peeled away down an adjacent hall.

              “What about me?” Scott said.

              Carissa threw up a quick middle finger as she walked away.

Carissa made her way through the maze of people.  She stepped sideways to keep from running into the group of kids that blocked the long corridor.  The school had once thought about expanding the hall but with the cost of books on the rise, the decreasing budget, and all the teachers wanting hire salaries, there was no money to make the changes.  It was always in the future budget but the future has a way not becoming priority.

              Carissa snaked through the people, perfume, and body odor finally arriving at locker 553.  It was across from the cheerleaders lockers.  For some reason, Carissa was sure it was not coincidence that all the “oh my gosh” and “woo” girls had been placed together.  They huddled by their lockers discussing boys and hair and who just got cars; they clearly had no idea that they were dense.  Carissa had been friends once with Destiny, the head cheerleader. But when Carissa began to think for herself, Destiny could not stand the defiance, exiling Carissa to the lowly existence of a
social irrelevant
.  Needless to say, there was a slight animosity between Carissa and Destiny. 

              Carissa opened her locker exposing a mess of crumpled papers and half stacked books.  Carissa rummaged through the mini-dump with pin point accuracy.  She figured if she cleaned the locker
I wouldn’t be able to find a god damn thing
.  She pulled out a small thick book.  English.  What a waste of time.  Carissa loved books, hated English.  Writing a two page paper on one page story seemed ridiculous to her.  Although she did well, every minute of time spent in that class was complete agony.

The teacher did not help, either.  Carissa hated her.  The voice, the way she looked, and generally everything else about Mrs. Shelton disgusted her.  Carissa did not know why, but there was something about this woman that made her cringe at the slightest sound of her voice.

              “Hey,” someone said from behind.  Carissa turned and a girl dressed much like her stood behind with a glassy look in her eyes.  It was April.  Carissa and April had become friends shortly after Destiny felt it was far too exhausting to attempt to continue their “unnecessary” relationship. 

              April was a party girl in the truest sense.  Fun was her motto, one could say.  She never did her school work, she always skipped class, and she did not come to school unless she was stoned.  April was a good person, even though some thought different.  She would always talk to people and if they were nice so was she.  She was not promiscuous and she never tried to be something she was not.  She came from a rather rich family, but she never let it show.  She had little in the area of “enemies” and always helped people when she could.  She was just, well, non-academic.

              “Hey, what’s up,” Carissa said as she closed her locker.

              “Nothin’.  Heard you freaked out some kid on the bus.”

              “News travels fast.”

              “Don’t worry about it.  That was David.  He’s in my science class.  Last week, we were teamed together on a project and he tripped, man.  He started talking about it was against morality or some shit.  A real head case,” April said.  “Idea!” Pointing two fingers at Carissa, “Let’s go show him our tits,” April said letting out a soft, choppy laugh.

              “He’d probably shit his pants.” They both laughed. 

              “Oh my Gosh.  Look at her hair,” they heard from the crowd.  Then as if on cue, several girls started to giggle…more like courteously cackling. 

              Carissa turned.  Her eyes locked with Destiny’s.  Destiny and her “posse” looked like they should all be Kardashians.  The resting bitch faces were strong in their group.  They all had the same color hair (this week it was brown with a bright red tinge) and looked like sticks.  Their cheeks shallow.  This group gave strong evidence for anorexia to be recognized as a communicable disease. 

              Destiny stood square in the center of the group, proud of what she thought was a witty verbal gut shot.  Carissa noticed a small imperfection above Destiny’s lip and loaded her cannon.  “Oh my Gosh,” Carissa yelled mocking the girls, “Destiny has herpes.”  Destiny’s smile vanished quickly.  She put her hand over her mouth and turned her head down.  Her minions looked to her for guidance but Destiny was never one for quick reaction. 

              Carissa and April began to walk away, thinking the encounter was over.  Destiny could not let it go.  She could not just lick her wounds and still be the leader of the pack.  Destiny had to show the crowd that insubordination could not be tolerated, especially from “common trash”.  “Bitch,” Destiny said, confidence clearly waned.

              Carissa turned back to Destiny, smirk back in full force.  Carissa began toward her in a slow stride then in a jog as she got closer.  She stopped inches away from Destiny’s face.  “What did you say, Cunt?”

              Destiny looked into Carissa eyes. She knew she just stepped too far out because popularity cannot stop a fist.  Destiny’s expression changed from confidence to
oh, fuck I am going to get my ass kicked
.  Destiny said nothing.  She was hoping that Carissa would not hit her.  Carissa had held back every other time.  Destiny was not sure this time would be different.

              “Huh, what did you say?”  Carissa was close enough that Destiny felt the splash of Carissa’s breathe on her lips.  Still Destiny had no reply.  Carissa stood completely still. Destiny’s heart raced as the adrenaline flowed in her veins.  There was no fight, only flight crossed her mind.  Then Carissa raised her hand quick as if she were going to hit the girl.  Destiny flinched.  Then, Carissa brushed her shoulder.  “You know they make shampoo for that,” Carissa said as she turned back to April. 

              Destiny’s fear turned to humiliation.  She could feel the eyes in the hall fixating on her.  She heard April’s laugh echo off the walls.  Her minions rambled but she could not understand them.  She could only hear heart beating.  “There will be a next time.  You will have your turn,” a voice softly consoled.  Destiny let the incident go, for now. 

              Carissa sat in the back row, of her least favorite class, with her book and notebook under her chair.  The same posters that had adorn the room for the last six months stood as a reminder that
this class fucking sucks
.  A poster depicting a marble carving of the Ten Commandments hung proud next to the teacher’s podium.  Although this poster could not legally be put up in a public school, no one had said anything about it.  Carissa had looked at the stone, thinking about how much dedication the artist had put into the carving.  The letters were so perfect and the tablets crept out of a larger base with no indication the sculpture was carved out of two separate slabs of marble.  It was truly a masterpiece. From an artist’s prospective, Carissa liked the poster. 

              Mrs. Shelton sat at the front of the classroom, elbows resting on her desk.  She watched as the children sat and talked before class was to begin.  She looked at her watch anticipating the bell.  As soon as time allowed, they were hers. 

              Mrs. Shelton taught her class with an iron fist.  She wanted her students to think about the stories they were reading.  The imagery and metaphors were the most important aspects of writing, the story was second.  Every assignment consisted of reading the story then deciphering the meanings and lessons portrayed.  Well, the meanings and lessons as Mrs. Shelton saw fit.  In the end, she would put down any idea that contradicted her own.  There had been many students come through with remarkable understanding of the required texts but she would deter their development quickly.  If they actually could prove her wrong, she would have them removed from the class citing they were being unruly.  The class was totalitarian with no room for self-thought, exactly how she liked it.

              The bell rang just as her watch hit five after eight.  The students went silent, fearing that Mrs. Shelton might assign an extra paper or another book report.   She walked to the podium, her shoes clacking against the floor.  “If order is not, the mind will fight,” she said placing her hands along either side of the podium. 

In unison, “Yes, ma’am,” the students replied.  She knew it was not exactly a great saying. Mrs. Shelton did not say it for enlightenment but to ensure the children knew she was in control. 

              “I had you read ‘The Lottery’ last class,” Mrs. Shelton said.  She never started class with a greeting.  She was rather cold when it came to the students.  She thought the notion of respecting students was weak.  If they wanted help, she would assign them a reading list and once that list was assigned to them, their grade depended on it. ”Now, your assignment today is to read the story again.  I want you to consider the reality and ramifications.  What do the characters represent and why does the mood of the story change so dramatically?  I want you to write a two page essay due next class period.” 

              Carissa reached for her book hearing several groan from the class.  Mrs. Shelton’s eyes snapped from the podium to the back wall.  Most of the students noticed.  Their audible bane subsided.  “Mr. Jones, Mrs. Hooper, and Mr. Reed,” their eyes met her.  “I would like your papers to be four pages.”  Control must be accompanied by swift punishment for all who break it.

              Mrs. Shelton walked back to her desk.  Then, one solid knock rapped the classroom door.  Carissa looked over her shoulder.  It was David peering through the door.  He had changed his shirt to a light blue button-up.  Mrs. Shelton motioned him in.  He walked quietly through the rows of desks to the front of the room.  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Shelton,” David said still clearly shaken.   

              “Yes, David.  Let’s step outside,” she said motioning for the door.  She led him back through the rows of desks and out the door. 
A student should never beckon or lead a teacher.

              Carissa, curious, watched from the corner of her eye.  Carissa was not nosy per se but David had intrigued her.  Today was the first time she had seen this boy and now this was the second time, in one day.  Maybe she was being a little nosy. 
He did have a breakdown and bled all over the fucking place.
 

              Carissa leaned as close as she could to the door.  At first, all she could hear was unintelligible whispering.  But as the conversation progressed, she heard Mrs. Shelton’s voice getting louder.  Though muffled, she began to understand them.

              “So, you did not bandage yourself properly. David, I do not know what you would do without me.  Your driver also said you were sitting with some girl.  Who was she, David?”