Eating my own arm, after a full course meal, reading a book in a foreign language (emphasis on the foreign part), studying Quantum physics, playing in four lanes of traffic, babysitting, because children in general creep me out…this is just a minuscule part of the long list that I’ve come up with of things that I would rather be doing than sitting here “listening” to Mr. Boyd drone on.

“Now this trip will make your senior year count,” whatever the heck that’s supposed to mean.

Umm…hello I’m a sixteen year old who skipped ahead because I want to get out this place as soon as possible. The last thing on my mind is making memories that won’t matter, or be remotely relevant until I’m at least six to eight months into my midlife crisis.

I’m not gonna lie, I zoned out less than five minutes into his pep talk, as soon as I heard “memories that will be passed down for generations,” mentally I was out of there.

Besides, what bozo had the bright idea of making him this year’s speaker in the first place. I honestly think the faculty gets some type of sick pleasure from this torture… I mean does the words cruel and unusual punishment mean anything in this hellhole?! His voice has about as much enthusiasm as an automated voice recording. He makes the guy from the Clear Eye’s commercials sound interesting, and he spits when he talks (which is one of the fastest ways to get to the top of my kill list by the way). He seriously has to notice the fact that everyone he speaks with is at minimum, an arm’s length away, but I digress. If I don’t stop myself now I could go on for ages about the fact that Mr. Boyd is a boring, mediocre individual, that I honestly thinks works very hard to be as awful as he is.

“You have reached this point with your hard work and dedication, and this trip is the schools way of giving back to you.” Is he reading a script? He must be. How is it giving back to us when we’re supposed to shell out the cash to go on it the first place.

Okay, that’s it…. I promise. Besides Mr. Boyd isn’t what concerns me at the moment, there is someone else that is more prevalent in my life right now and unlike Mr. Boring can’t be ignored, and doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of go away.

This guy, if you can even call it that, literally turned my world upside down, inside out, and tore it in two (so original right)?

So who is the destroyer of worlds you ask? Well first let me ask what causes more havoc than a tornado, shakes things worse than an earthquake, causes more wreckage than an eighteen-car pileup and yet still smiles like a baby that has just discovered its foot?

Aether Lislington.

Aether freaking Lislington has been the thorn in my side, the pebble in my shoe, the crick in my neck... well you get the point. Or maybe you don’t, he’s more annoying than a mosquito bite between your toes, than gum stuck on a brand new shoe, than summer in general, because me and sunlight don’t get along like that... again you get the point.

“Do we get to choose our roommates?” Aether’s voice grates from the front row. I eye him with disgust, seriously who cares about that? Apparently everyone but me, because there’s a chorus of groans when Mr. Boring responds that roommates are chosen alphabetically.

So, back to what I was thinking, if you don’t get the point by now there are plenty more reasons where those came from. I have a whole eighteen slide PowerPoint presentation dedicated to just how awfully tiresome this kid is.

I mean it should be illegal for someone to be that stupid, and trust me for someone with a 4.8 GPA (which I only know because he told me…. Idiot) Aether is pretty dense. First off, he always seems to take sarcasm seriously. What’s up with that? And for someone like me who is fluent in the subtle, yet beautiful language of sarcasm it is maddening. Besides that, whatever I say seems to go in one ear and out the other. For instance, I tell him I don’t want him to eat lunch with me and does he listen? I’ll take, What is No for 200 Alex. He sits down and starts talking about the benefits of packing ones lunch versus buying the cafeteria funk. Like I care. Not to mention he seems to have a topic… for everything.

I’m pretty sure what he’s doing is considered stalking and is illegal in all 50 states and quite a few other countries. It baffles me how clueless this guy is. At his best I would describe him as a Disney princess personified, he displays all the symptoms: sickeningly sweet, naïve, and beautiful (just because I hate him doesn’t mean I won’t admit he is easy on the eyes… sue me). And he seems like the type that gets everything handed to him; people like him really grind my gears, because I work for everything I have and it’s still not much.

Not that I’m complaining, too much, about what I have or anything like that, I just don’t like silver spoon trust fund babies!!! Ok, ok maybe I’m being overly harsh. I’ll put it this way.

Aether’s got the looks of every stupid teen movies dumb jock: blonde hair, letterman jack, sports car… the works, except maybe the popular girlfriend, not for lack of trying on the girls parts, the friendliness of a child, and the brains of someone that could work for NASA. Not to mention his optimism could probably put Prozac out of business. He volunteers half his of time at the shelter, is the president of three clubs, not that I know what they are, I try to keep my knowledge about any and everything Aether related to a minimum. I only know this much because he never shuts up, and pretty much everyone likes him. Sure he sounds like a saint in theory, but I still don’t like him!

Main reason why? All of my problems started when he got the bright idea that we were friends. And he didn’t ask my opinion on the matter. So, when I graciously declined his generous offer, he just kept talking as if he didn’t hear me. Apparently he’s not used to people rejecting him or his book smarts don’t go any further than the page because he hasn’t gotten the hints, and it’s not like I’ve been subtle. End of rant (holds for applause).

It all started 3 months ago when our AP English teacher, Mrs. Raleigh, who thinks she’s God’s gift to the literature world, got the brilliant idea to assign the class partners for a stupid poetry assignment. She is forever on my “Sacrifice First during a zombie apocalypse” list because the day she assigned us partners was the day I met…Him.

Rewind.

Three months ago before my blessed time was encroached upon by Aether it was my first day of my journey towards freedom from McCall High School! Unlike most who want to end their high school eras with a bang I was all for getting it over with, and flying under the radar. But you know that saying that things don’t always go as planned. Well let’s just say that pretty much sums up my life after I met Aether.

My first day of school was a far cry from the smooth sailing, don’t get noticed, or stand out day that it was supposed to be. It started with me oversleeping and waking up ten minutes before school started.

And just because I’m sixteen doesn’t mean I have a car. I was supposed to take the bus but fat chance there. Parents at work. Siblings gone. And I don’t know if you can tell from my “bubbly” personality but I don’t do friends. Never have and never will. Period. And before you psych freaks attempt that mind bender mumbo jumbo on me it’s not that I’m some misunderstood teen starved for the love and attention of my peers, or a social pariah, or anything like that. I just don’t like people. I never really have. I’m content to be alone with my own thoughts, which are probably on a higher level than those around me (not that I’m a snob or anything).

And let’s face it when you are alone you only have to worry about your own feelings and it’s pretty hard to offend yourself. I once took a quiz on Facebook to assess my personality and it described me as the analytical thinker and it pretty much hit the nail on the head; but that’s getting off subject.

Where was I again? I swear I never had a problem focusing before Aether butted in.

I don’t have friends unless you count my dog Spudd, but I only keep him around because he can’t talk; but don’t tell him that. And it’s not like he could get me to school. So, I did the only logical thing, called a cab but I still got to school twenty minutes late, and did I mention I forgot my lunch? I’d also forgotten to put shoes on and obviously rainbow toe socks are not appreciated. And did I mention that they lock the doors? I had to walk all around the school building just to come in through the front office.

My toes peeked up at me while I got my late note.