E-Scapegoat
or
Assault of Miss Fortune
I haven't always been the person I am today, adored by all people. In fact, I used to be quite a loser. Indeed, a large amount of my previous life up to this year had been spent in what some people would deem frivolous activity. But lucky me. I got a smack in the face with one of Mother Nature's inevitable custard pies this past summer, and she is not a good cook. But you probably don't want to hear about all the background, so I'll cut to the meat of the fun and terrifying bad experience I had.
It all started back in May. Unlike a large portion of my fellows, I enjoyed school because I had never considered the possibility of anything else. As a result, I was considered a "goody two-shoes" by some. My grades were stellar, and I applied myself, but the downside was that I lacked a social life. For a girl in high school, this is not a very good thing to have as one of your defining characteristics. I was raised by intelligent parents, and being a fair bit smarter than most made me get insulted quite frequently for nearly every reason in the book. I never dressed like the other girls, or had a boyfriend that I went out with every night like the other girls, or talked with improper grammar like the other girls. My intelligence alienated me, and to be frank, it was a little frustrating.
Reader, you may have noticed that I talk, and write, far differently than a normal adolescent female. Not only do I have intelligence, I have opinions. Take, for example, the word "teenager." I never have liked this word. I feel that it was created by some counselor with a troubled patient in order to beautify the intolerable cruelties that reality has in store during this period. The proper word is "adolescent," and it should be used whenever possible. Anyone caught using the former alternative should have their mouth washed repeatedly with Lava soap, you know, the nasty, gritty stuff. But I digress.
Everyone insulted me for my differences, or for no reason at all. To me, their logic was obvious. They needed a scapegoat, something to take their damage. A sponge, if you will. So, not wanting to become further alienated by rejecting their insults or returning them with scathing words of my own, I sat in silence and listened. In time, I got fairly good at sitting there and ignoring people. In fact, it was fairly easy. I would just set a small part of my mind in the present to act as an alarm to alert me when they were finished, and let the rest of me drift into deep thought.
That all changed in May. A new student transferred into our school, and directly into my classes. Every last one of them, which was quite strange. See, some of the classes I was enrolled in were not for the faint of heart. Since they required rigorous testing to enter, I was naturally confused as to how he was able to get in. But I paid it no mind, until one day he approached me after class.
"Hello."
"Uh...Hi." I replied. I mean, this guy was a loner, but everybody thought that he was cool. Cool people did not normally associate with me. I was confused.
"Arin, isn't it?" He asked.
"Y-yes," I responded, gathering my things.
"I'm Penn. But you already know that, of course."
"I do, and I'm confused."
"What by?"
"Well, I'm not sure how you managed to get into all my accelerated classes."
"The same way you did. Intelligence. And I listen to people." That much I knew to be true. Penn had a strange intensity about him, almost surreal. He also had a tendency to blend into the background sometimes. One day at lunch, I had looked up to find him leaning against the wall in his leather jacket, looking directly at me. When I looked back, he appeared gone, but when I looked harder, I found that he was still there. The same thing happened to teachers. In one class, the teacher accidentally called him "Mr. Sworde," the name of a student from a previous hour whom he looked nothing alike. Penn had that kind of effect on people.
"Like that time you were eavesdropping on my friends and I at lunch?" I asked, slightly spiteful that he had done so.
"If those are your friends, I'd hate to see your enemies. They treat you like garbage, and I'm fairly sure you know it. What I want to know is, why do you put up with that? The insults from morning to night, and yes, they do insult you at night."
"How do you know? Did you follow one of them home?"
"Actually, I did."
I was now convinced that Penn was some sort of stalker or psychopath, and I had attracted his attention. This was, in my mind, a bad thing to have done.
"I think I'll ignore you now." I said, turning away.
Penn laughed. "Sure. But when you get tired of being used like a verbal punching bag, let me know." At that point, the bell rang, and I felt lucky to escape this raving loon. Until I remembered that I'd be in his company for the remainder of the day. And every day after that. But in the next class Penn reverted to his usual taciturn self, but I got the feeling he was watching me.
Penn's statements confused me at first, until I got down to actually listening to the abuse I was taking. For the most part, it was downright depressing. Being insulted once can be a bad mark in your mind, but taking thousands of the blasted things in a single day? That weekend, I relented and decided to talk to Penn the next Monday.
As the cruelties of the universe would have it, Penn was absent the entire week. Whether it had anything to do with the fact that Cominghome Court nominations were being held, I don't know. The fact remains, however, that I was nominated as a "joke" by a couple of smart-alecks whose attentions I had been receiving for quite some time. And was elected. This naturally came not only as a shock but also as a white-hot rage-inducing stab. I made up my mind to scathe these fools in the worst way possible. I decided to show them up. This naturally presented the question of, well, how. I was still the same desperate loser "goody two-shoes" that I always had been. The only difference was that I now had a cause, and, stripped of my dignity, found that I had little left to lose. Fortunately for me, there are none so dangerous as those with nothing to lose. The girls thus became slightly terrified when I walked in the Monday after with an insane grin upon my face, near cackling in sheer comedic and evil glee. Curious as to what I planned? Read on.
I woke from my bed at 10:30 that dreary Saturday morning that was to mark the end of my quiet, unknown life. I faced the reality with an unfaltering grin on the outside, sheer mindnumbing terror on the inside. Quite simply, I couldn't believe what I was about to do and possibly get away with. Penn, a fellow student whose mind I deemed screwy to the highest degree, had been the real driving force in this scheme.
As soon as I heard the news over the PA, I was infuriated by my peers' actions. I had to prevent this from happening...but how? Go to the authorities and tell them the truth, that I was set up? That would be the coward's way out. That would be a last-minute effort if it became necessary. I had reached the point where I was thoroughly tired of their shenanigans, and decided to talk to Penn, who showed up near the last part of Friday. I approached him before the dismissal bell rang.
"So," he said, not looking up, "Have you decided to take me up on my offer?"
"Not exactly," I said. "I'm sure you've heard the news."
"Ah, yes. If you refer to your mistaken nomination and election, then I know of it."
"That's why," I said, not too sure how he knew it was a mistake.
"And you want me to help you make a mockery of the whole thing in an effort to get back at those who did this?"
The kid was astute, I had to give him that. "Y-yes. How'd you know?"
"I have my sources. Besides, you wouldn't be coming to me if you had anything nice in mind." This was true.
"Anyway, I've got some ideas, and I was wondering if you could help me pick one."
The bell rang, and Penn followed me onto the bus. The driver was an old hippie who was, I believe, too messed-up to notice his presence. We spent twenty minutes debating ideas, until finally we settled on Penn's plan, which was far more interesting than any of the various things I had come up with that struck at specific people. Penn's scheme would ruin the whole evening, make me look innocent, and strike a minor blow at the school itself.
"Okay," Penn said, "I'll get all the supplies for you. I'll make this so easy, a hamster would be able to pull it off."
"Being smarter than a hamster, I think I can handle it."
"I believe that most people are not smarter than hamsters at a base level, but only seem smarter due to their creativity. Picasso could paint, and hamsters can run mazes faster than humans." With that comment, he got off the bus. I muttered under my breath. Penn always had the last word.
That evening I did something uncharacteristic of me. I told my mother that I had been elected, but I didn't mention that I'd been duped. After the usual maternal fussy business, she took me dress shopping, and makeup shopping, and shoe shopping. I tolerated it all with a minor air of annoyance, but The Plan said I had to pretend I was going along with it. However, going to Cominghome unescorted if you are a member of the court is a surefire way to stir up controversy, and that was just what I was going to do.
I woke the next morning and found a box, addressed to me, sitting on my front porch. Inside was a personal CD player, hooked up to a strange black box by way of the headphone jack. I grinned wickedly. If Penn's little box did what he said it would do, the pop and rap -infested Cominghome would be besieged by whatever music yours truly put on the CD. This was going to be fun.
I, not some fool DJ paid by the hour, would control their music. With my eclectic library this meant I had ultimate power. Naturally, having such power raises the question of what the heck one is to do with it. There were so many alternatives. I considered techno, but discounted it almost immediately. With such strong back beats people would immediately start enjoying themselves. Then I reconsidered. There were plenty of fun things to do with this. I explored the classes and settled on adding a few select downtempo or slow techno cuts to the mix. I then thought. What else can I do to punish these infuriating fools?
The answer came so readily it was shocking. I couldn't punish them with techno, rock, hip-hop, pop, or anything else except one thing. I riffled through my library and found what I was looking for. I filled the CD with music, smiled, and sat back. I played several rounds of solitaire before getting dressed for the big night.
Of course, if I forced the speakers too early nobody would be unhappy. I'd have to do it during the most popular song. After, of course, I shocked them with my lack of an escort. As it turned out, I had a surprise in store for the fools. I slowly walked through the crowd, turning heads. Everyone was silent. I heard their whispers. I walked up onto the stage and stood by the others, smiling passively. I clean up really well. The guys, much to the dismay of their dates, noticed. I was having fun, for some strange reason. This was going to be a blast. Literally.