Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

rang
    “Advanced Drama.”
    “Oh, goodie! Me, too!” She grabbed my hand and towed me out of the now empty cafeteria, jabbering about how lucky she was to have found me on her first day. It wasn’t until we had left the cafeteria that she realized she had no idea where she was going and opted to follow rather than lead.
    I led her down the hall as she continued to jabber about how her first day had gone and all the irritating people she had met. I smiled at her description of our very eccentric American History teacher. “Small, withering Mardi Gras attendee” fit him.
    I hesitated outside the door of the drama room. I had been placed in the advanced drama class by mistake this year, and as such, it was a class filled with seniors, meaning that the notorious Cynthia McFadden was in this class. While it was unlikely that most people would mention anything about the cast list for Hamlet, I knew her kind. The probability that she would say something was high, and I preferred to steel myself against it.
    The drama room was a large sunken performance space surrounded by tiers of carpeted risers that rose up from the center of the room where you entered. Ms. Flowers, the drama teacher, always kept the room dimmed during performance time with stage lights blaring, but during class time we were treated to fluorescent lighting that made every soda stain on the carpet pop out. A large thrift-store couch sat right in the middle of the lowest tier, looking out on center stage. Most of the students lounged on the different levels as they prepared for class to start, leaving the couch for Ms. Flowers use. Wyn ran off to find Ms. Flowers while I went to my usual alcove.
    “Well, if it isn’t Smelly MyHoodie,” Cynthia McFadden’s voice echoed around the large space, causing several heads to turn. I crinkled my nose at her poor attempt at name-calling, waiting for the deeper onslaught.
    “We missed you on Friday, at rehearsal… Oh wait, I forgot, you didn’t get a role.” If anyone had read a book on how to be the quintessential high school diva, it was Cynthia. She had mastered this role better than she would any other. From perfectly plucked eyebrows and hair, hours in preparation, to overpriced shoes and backpack, she looked like a snob. It was more than her looks though. How she spoke, how she talked, it was all done to be anyone’s high school nemesis or hero. If I had to pick, I would have to say she was my nemesis, although the term is a bit dramatic.
    Even though Cynthia was a year older than me, she had been one of the first in elementary school to realize there was something wrong with me. I hadn’t always hidden behind hoodies, and in 1 st grade, Cynthia had seen the same thing in me that had made my dad take off. Maybe it was the way I held myself, how I never talked too loudly, or the fact that I liked to climb to the top of the baseball fence. Something just bugged her about me, and she made it her business to get everyone else to see it too.
    I attempted to let her taunt roll off me, sealing my lips together to prevent a rebuttal. I growled to myself as I attempted to walk past her; I wasn’t one to create confrontation.
    “Hey, I’m talking to you.” She grabbed my arm hard hindering my escape and then jumped back as if I had shocked her.
    I turned toward her, keeping my jaw shut tight, ready to take whatever cruel punishment she had ready for me.
    “You stupid, little girl. I’m so glad my graduation is a month away, and then, I won’t have to smell you anymore. Too bad everyone else has to put up with you for another year.” She looked at me expecting a reply, but I couldn’t think of what to say without my entire face turning red and a string of expletives pouring out.
    “Why don’t you just go hide up by the stage lights, pretend you’re flying and casting magic, or whatever it is you do up there, you little freak.” She flipped her long bleached-blonde hair and turned away from me only to come face-to-face with Wyn.
    Tiny little Wyn had her hands balled up in fists at her side, her face flushed red. Even though Wyn’s full height only came to Cynthia’s chest, the look on Wyn’s face caused Cynthia to take a step back. I was concerned Wyn would say something stupid that would cause criticism for the both of us.
    “At least she can get up there and keep her clothes on,” she said, “or is that too much of a challenge for you?” Laughter and whistling sounded throughout the