Brenn Says: Don't Date A Genie

Big Plans

I don't really get people, and they definitely don't get me. That's why I like books. Whenever I'm not at home reading, I'm braving the wild and dangerous jungle they call Middle-School. I hate it. I find it lacks a certain... MAGIC, so I did what I always do when I don't like being somewhere. I created my own little world. I call it Brenn's World.
In Brenn's World, I'm not a weirdo. In fact, I'm like the coolest person around. Basically a rockstar. And people never make fun of my clothes. They find my unique fashion sense absolutely fantastic. Boys don't throw paper spit-wads at me. They give me roses and daisies and sunflowers. Girls don't call me No-Fren Brenn. They fight over who gets to BE my friend.
I like Brenn's World, but Mom doesn't. She takes me to this doctor who says I have to spend less time in Brenn's World and more time in what he calls "The Real World." Of course, he says that because he's never spent a minute in Brenn's World.
Duh!
Either way, I like my mom and I hate to see her worry so much, so I've formulated a master plan to fix this problem.
See, every year the school picks four students - two boys and two girls - to receive an all-expense-paid trip to Washington DC, where they get to see the city, go on tours, and eat yummy foods.
If I go on that trip, the other girl who wins will be FORCED to bunk up with me, and then she won't have a choice but to talk to me and get to know me. MAYBE I'll even pull a few strings and get her into Brenn's world. I know the owner.
I think it's a good plan because my doctor says that sometimes it helps to meet people outside of school first, when they're away from all their social circles and can be themselves. On this trip, it'll be just me and her in the room, and no one else. She'll HAVE to get to know me. We'll be best friends in no time.
To be chosen, I have to be one of the first two girls to hit 50 volunteer hours helping out around the school. I'm going to win this race. I already got 30 hours last month helping Mrs. Pythagoras install Math-Tastic on all the computers, then tutoring all the little kids on how to use it. It was a hard job, but I gotta say. I rocked it.
This week, I'll be helping Mr. Blume stock 22 boxes of donated books into the school library. He said he'd leave that project to me, and he'll sign off for another 10 hours if I agree to volunteer every day this week for an hour before school and another hour after school. Works for me!
That's where I'm headed now, and I'm power-walking my little butt over there. The dismissal bell's about to ring, and when it does, the jungle comes alive. Everyone turns into wild, screaming animals, who push and shove and kick and tug and... Yeah.
No thank you.
I have something called mild Agoraphobia. It's where I start to feel panicky in places where something could happen to embarrass me. And the things is, the other students at this school are REALLY talented - like freaky good - at finding ways to embarrass me, so most of the time I just prefer to avoid them. Mom explained my condition to Principal Stones, and she's given me permission to leave my classes a little early to avoid The Crazies. That's what I call the other students.
"Hey!" Says the one voice I didn't want to hear. My skim grows clammy and fingers begin to shake. "Hey! I know you hear me!"
Jessica Summers, the Hall Monitor. She's one of the other students trying to win the scholarship. She started this Hall Monitor thing at the beginning of the year and also has 30 hours. She hates my guts. She also hates my face. And my voice. And pretty much everything about me. And it doesn't help that she's also super popular, and super pretty, and super, SUPER mean. So when she decides to pick on me, everyone else follows, and since she's hall monitor, she ALSO gets out of class early.
"You got a hall pass?" She marches over with her yellow monitor sache across her chest and a notepad in her hand. "I don't see one."
"You know I have permission," I say.
"Do you?"
I look at my watch. The bell's going to ring any second now. I turn and begin to walk away. She grabs me by the shoulder.
"I didn't say you could go."
I look at her. Her lips are curled and there's an evil look in her eyes. My stomach turns. My knees feel weak.
"Please, Jessica. I have to go."
She circles around me.
"I think you're cutting class," she says. "Is that what you're doing?"
"I'm going to the library. Mr. Blume said I could-"
"I think you're lying," she pokes my chest with her finger. "And I'm writing you up."
I look at my watch. In less than a minute, that bell is going to ring. She knows what she's doing, she's just playing dumb.
"Fine. Write me up. I have to go."
I side-step past her and begin to walk when she grabs me by the shoulder again.
"You're such a loser," she says. She doesn't give any explanation. She never does. Just the statement like it's some kind of fact.
"You need a mint," I say, the I shrug off her hand and storm away.
RRRRIIINNNNNGGGG!!!!
Oh no.
The dismissal bell.
The classroom doors open.
They start pouring out into the halls, like savage beasts looking for prey.
The crazies.
"Oh yeah," says Jessica with a hint of humor in her tone. "Now I remember. You DO have permission. Sorry. Bye and good luck."
Like I said, she knew what she was doing.
My heart is beating fast.
My breaths shorten.
I want to move but I find myself stuck to the ground.
It's happening.
Stampede.