Hacking the Sun - The Re-Remake

Chapter 3 What You Say, you Fucken Weeb? 2/3

During a bitter-sweet memory, Jessica knew that teenage angst was nature's way of encouraging independence. Counter-intuitively, there were entire institutions dedicated to penning up adolescence.

"Dysfunction is not inherent to the human condition," she muttered. "It's nature's recoil, I'd say, against the attempt to stifle growth."

"What you say, you fucken Weeb?"

The brunt of a sneaker slammed her into several plastic storage bins. Then and there, the smell of the gym changing room, the heated sourness of post-practice hockey, sunk in. The sprinklers had yet to trigger their fragrance filters, so the scent amplified her bitterness. Looking up, she found the angry scowl of a student in the crimson skirt and white blouse of Ashenvale Academy.

"Mr. Johnson knew my essay was forged!" the bully exclaimed, running pink nails across red-dyed hair. "The point, as I stressed, was to make it sound like my writing!"

"But I thought you wanted a passing grade," Jessica sassed. Her face felt the brunt of a sneaker, again.

"I don't see any teachers or security," said the lookout. Like with all walking clichés, there was a lackey who stood as a lookout to the locker room, casual to the cruelty of yet another Queen Bee. Up until Freshman year, Jessica had thought them extinct.

With the pain in her chin and neck, she struggled to rise but managed to sit upright, and felt the familiar hardness of a hockey stick beneath her fingers.

"And another thing," Queen Bee continued. "Micah said you were talking to Jeremy in the computer lab. Why?"

"Because he asked for help?"

"Be real with me, bitch." She grabbed Jessica's collar. "You know I like him, right? You heard about it, and the next day you just happened to meet up with him in the lab?"

"Nothing's more romantic than computer literacy, Avery," Jessica whispered sarcastically. "I can't control my obsession or the need to make you jealous. My life revolves around it, especially now."

With a small shove, the girl let Jessica fall before crouching over her space. "I forgot. Is this turning you on?"

"You realize there are cameras in this room?"

"Because I give two shits? My dad knows the Principal, cyberwhore, and he has Azarean connections. No one cares about the rambling of some reject. It's annoying. Your parents probably faked their deaths to get away."

Numb to the pain, Jessica carefully rose right before Avery's grin. Faster than her thoughts, her arm swung the hockey shaft and smashed that grin sideways. The blow cracked the stick, and Avery lay on the floor, stiff.

"Shit!" cried the other girl. She looked from Avery to Jessica, horrified, then quickly ran off.

Jessica stared at the body, nails digging into her palms. She had to do something before her life came crashing down again. She had to run. The camera footage had to go.

She sprinted out of the campus. Outside, the clouds seemed particularly grey above the walled garden. After-school activity was a mistake. The blood in her veins churned, her skin crawled, and it channeled from sweltering resentment into a migraine.

Top-tier alumni from every field could secure entry into the most prestigious academies, where they could share halls with Azareans. Hence, the moment she demonstrated a high aptitude in academics, followed by an affinity for hockey, Jess made enemies; the moment she excelled in school, she made enemies; the very moment she cared, she made enemies, which is why she hated Gerald Leibniz. Academia was a curse, social life a curse.