I grabbed a look at myself in my bathroom mirror. I'd made sure the black eye make-up feathered out nicely, adding undertones of green to emphasise my eyes more. I ran my hands over my hair, ruffling it up more, even though I'd already styled it to hell. The hair fell in straight, uneven layers. I glanced at my right ear with the small skull stud and four rings along the top. A small chain linked the bottom ring and stud.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, shrugging. I was going to hell anyway. I left the bathroom and picked up my shoulder-length bag. My side of the room glaringly obvious. Posters of rock bands splattered the walls, fairy lights stuck along the wall close to the ceiling. My room mate looked up from her book, her eyes widening immediately. I tried to remember her name when she'd moved in yesterday and failed. She looked like most girls here.
“You're not seriously going out like that, are you?” she asked, face pulled with horror. I raised a single eyebrow, scanning her own appearance. I wished once again I'd gotten it pierced so the gesture would look more dramatic.
“At least my skirt's regulation,” I replied. I didn't wait for her reply, hearing her make a choked offended sound. I shut the door after me and walked down the corridor, hands in my jacket pockets. I hadn't even reached the main corridor to my first class when Mrs Davenport spotted me. Her eyes narrowed as she made a beeline. I beamed a black lipsticked smile her way as she crossed her arms.
“I see we're still in our rebellious phase,” she murmured. Her eyes quickly cataloguing my offences. Shirt untucked, tie loosened. Jacket instead of blazer. Oh, and I'd ditched the normal school skirt in favour of a poofy black layered one.
“It's regulation length,” I said innocently when I saw her gaze move to it. She made a a-huh sound and sighed.
“Cassidy, how much longer are you going to do this? You were such a model student when you first came here,” she sighed.
“I'm still getting my A's ma'am,” I replied.
“The school board is aware. It's the only reasons you've gotten away with some of your more,” she paused, picking the right word. “Elaborate acts of anarchy,” she finished. I widened my eyes in mock offence and walked past her, turning as I did so I was walking a few steps back.
“Ma'am, I am offended! Me? An anarchist? I should complain to the headmaster,” I said. I couldn't help a smirk and turned, walking away.
“Lose the earrings Miss Powell,” she said before I left ear range. I considered just walking, pretending I hadn't heard. But then she'd just follow me and make me do it.
“Ugh.” I barrelled for the nearest bathroom and took them out, placing them in my bags side-pocket. “Stupid school,” I muttered to a second reflection. I left the bathroom and walked into the changing rooms. I just hung up my bag when Amanda walked over. I turned, meeting her gaze. A few years ago the tall, tanned, beautiful blond made me nervous as hell. Not just because she was intimidating and was a bully, but also because I was only just becoming aware of my sexuality. Since then I've realised Amanda's beauty was all polished effort. I wanted someone who was true to themselves, girl or guy. I really wasn't fussed.
“Look who it is,” she said, puckering her eyelids.
“A posh version of a whore?” I asked, gesturing vaguely in her direction with purple nails. Her eyes narrowed for the splittest of seconds, then her smug grin returned.
“Better than being a Nutcase,” she threw back. I stifled a short laugh at her words. I rested one hand on the hook where my bag was, half leaning against the rack.
“When are you going to learn that nickname doesn't bother me?” I threw back, raising both brows at her. Her face reddened a little.
“It's still true,” she said. She walked off before I could give a smart retort. It didn't matter, I was just laughing. Anyone watching us – and that was a lot of girls – knew I didn't care. Case was a nickname I had gained when I first started here. The Nut was added when I'd decided I'd had enough of the elitist people here. I got dressed, pulling on black gym trackies and a green vest top with a black star pattern on it. I walked into the gym and learnt it was badminton.
“Amanda, want to play a match?” I asked. We'd done this before, and she already knew the outcome.
“I don't play with losers,” she shot back. She turned her back to me, talking to her friends.
“Amanda,” I called again. I just knew she'd rolled her eyes at her friends before turning to look at me. Her eyes narrowed at my middle finger. Which only made my smirk grow wider. “You really need to learn these things Annie,” I shrugged, visible shaking with contained laughs. She did react to the nickname everyone knew she hated.
“Bitch,” she yelled. I snorted, raising an eyebrow. Even I knew not to yell in sports. Mrs Gardner paused in what she was doing to glance at Amanda. This time her whole face was red, not just her cheeks. It was definitely satisfying.