Mitch Rodriguez, In-School Suspension

Mitch sat back in his hard, uncomfortable wooden chair and began to crack his knuckles with a smirk. He knew that the sound irritated the teacher sitting outside the in-school suspension room, as it was called by teachers, and the Torture Room, as it was known by the students.

Most people had never set foot inside this room. Mitch had had the pleasure of setting foot in it not once, but enough times for the headmistress and co-ordinator to recognize him at first sight and flinch, as if wondering how a boy who got straight A's in his tests could serve suspension innumerable times without feeling sorry, or guilty, or regretful at all.

He glanced down at the notebook in front of him. It had a neat, navy blue cover, with a white label stuck on it, saying Mitch Rodriguez, In-School Suspension. Mitch was definitely the kind of student who visited the room enough times to qualify for a notebook specially for the purpose, instead of the usual white A4 sized sheets given for the 'one visit' students.

With a sigh, Mitch opened up his book and began to write. He had been lucky this time. He had gotten into far worse punishments before this. He had even been to an expulsion hearing once, after getting into in-school suspension twice a month. He had been forgiven that time, and had only received a warning. 

This time, he just had to write the same line over and over, five hundred times. He personally thought it was a waste of time, since he could just say it. Mitch tried imagining the conversation he would have with his parents when he got home.

Mitch walks into the living room, a hopefully regretful expression on his face, his head down.

Mom: Oh, Mitch.
Dad: What did you do this time, son?

Mitch: It's, uh, no biggie. (charming smile)

Mom: Not another fight!
Dad: What did the other guy do? Who was it this time?

Mitch: It was Joey. He called me…a…name. 

Mom: Oh, Mitch.
Dad: It was just a name, son. He was probably just having fun.

And so on and so forth.

He blinked his eyes and frowned. It wasn't very bad, since he hadn't caused Joey any serious injury. He just had to sit in here for one day and then he'd be out. No time at all!
Mitch checked his watch and glared it after reading the time. Only another six hours to go.

Just another day in the life of Mitch Rodriguez.

Z for Zazzy

A shriek rang out from the living room.

"Leonardo Alvarez! What are you wearing!?" 

A small girl hurriedly stumbled out of the living room, a large pile of toys in her arms. At the same moment, an older woman sighed, got up from the comfortable rocking chair in her room, and began to walk toward the noise.

As she walked in, another shriek came,

"Mamá! See! Look at the state in which my son is in! I have brought him up with so much love, so much care, and see what happens to him! This is how his friends have influenced him, Mamá!" a middle-aged woman standing in the middle of the room, her cheeks flushed, screamed.

"Emilia. Peace," the old lady replied with an exasperated look,"he is only a boy. Do not act as if the world is about to end, my dear."

Emilia blushed and shut her mouth, but continued to glare at the teenage boy standing in one corner of the room, looking indignant.

"Abuela, I am not going to wear the clothes Mamá set out for me! I am simply going to the movies and she gives me a shirt, not a t-shirt, a shirt, and black pants and a tie! A tie for going to the movies! I ask you!" he said, his deep brown eyes shining with anger.

"Leo, I agree that a tie is not suitable for going to the movies, but perhaps what you are wearing right now is a bit too, ahem, noticeable, maybe?" the old woman asked, looking at what her grandson was wearing and barely stifling a smile.

Leo crossed his arms and stepped out to the middle of the living room.

"What's wrong with my clothes, Abuela?"

The old lady surveyed his attire with amusement. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a bright red message printed in block letters:WANNA FIGHT? BRING IT ON!! with a white skull in the middle, dripping blood. He was wearing regular dark-blue jeans with bright neon green sneakers and on top of that he was wearing a camouflage jacket with what looked like splodges of different shades of green splashed on it.

"It's the fashion, Abuela! It's called being zazzy!"

Y for Yen

Ernest sat down on the footpath, his back against the wall of the shop which read 'James Antiques'. He had always liked antiques, and besides, this position gave him a good view of everything. Not that it mattered, of course. He used to like to come to this very place, to look around at all the happy families, and would fantasize about belonging to one of them.

Now he knew better than to even hope that he would ever have any relation with those families. He was a street kid, and would always have to fend for himself. Somehow.

Leaning back to make himself more comfortable, he focused his attention on the McDonalds opposite to him. It was just a takeaway place, but many people got the food and then sat on the benches beside it.

One man got what looked like a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a huge amount of fries. He also got a large ice tea. Ernest stared at this huge meal with yen. He hadn't managed to get any breakfast and he was ravenous. Anyway, it was quite probable that the man wouldn't even finish his food and would throw half of it in the bin.

The man caught sight of Ernest staring at his food and gave him a disgusted look.

"Oi! Kiddo! Run off and stop looking so…so….so yearning, will you?" he shouted loudly across the footpath.

Time seemed to come to a halt. Everybody walking on the footpath turned around and looked at him. Most of them looked away, but one lady gave him a pitiful expression. She took out a twenty dollar bill from her tiny purse and slowly walked toward him.

"Hello, sweetie. Here you go, just take this and buy yourself something good to eat, okay?" she said, trying to hand over the money.

"No, ma'am, it's really kind of you, but I don't really borrow money, okay? Just leave me alone," he said, pushing the money back into her hand and looking away.

The lady, looking shocked, turned around and walked away.

For a second, Ernest felt furious. Why had he rejected the lady's offer?

The next moment, he had a strange sense of calm. 

No point in being angry, Ernest. What the lady had offered him would last for barely a day, and then what're you going to do?All you're gonna do is sit here, be useless and yearn for something you'll never be able to get… 

X for X

Ross darted through the snow covered alleyway, pulling his hat low over his eyes. He looked around to make sure nobody was looking, and then quickly ran into the shop, grabbed a meat pie off the shelf and ran out again. 

Wrapping the meat pie securely in a handy piece of fairly clean cloth which had just come out of his coat pocket, he began walking toward what he was quite sure was the southern side of the city, the place where he could rest and eat his food in peace.

As he neared the abandoned building where he usually took refuge, he took out the pretend key he had crafted out of paper, making sure to purposefully turn it in the keyhole before opening the door.

He settled himself down on the floor and leaned onto the cupboard which had proved to be an able backrest. He took out the meat pie and had a big bite out of it, holding the cloth under it to make sure that nothing spilled.

How had he come to this? Spending a good month out on the streets, praying that the police wouldn't catch him? From being one of the most respected detectives in town, to being forgotten by everybody and becoming a thief himself?

It was all because of that Hazel Rodriguez. Framing him for the theft of the diamond necklace, causing all of his friends and family to break ties with him and make him look like  a fool! However, a question always rang out in his mind…how had Hazel managed to get a picture which looked exactly like him burgling the jewelry shop in the midst of the night?

He had always presumed it to be a PhotoShopped picture, but he was sure Hazel couldn't have had a picture of him, and besides, she wouldn't resort to such simple methods.

In all his days on the streets, if anybody asked him for his name, he always replied with a code name, 'X'. After all, X was a variable, wasn't it? For an unidentified, dangerous man(supposedly), it was the perfect name.

A loud banging began on the door. Ross immediately jumped up, all of his attention on the door.

"Open in the name of the law, X! We know you're in there, and we know that you've stolen more than a dozen products from more than ten different shops" said a loud, purposeful voice from outside the door.

Dan! That was Dan, he was sure of it! Dan had always been one of his staunch supporters…but now…nobody had a clue where he was and those who did, knew him as the criminal, X. Overcome with a sense of nostalgia, he turned around, smooth as a cat, and almost tip-toeing, ran out of the house. One day, he would prove that he was innocent…one day.

W for Webster

"Mrs. Ferguson! Mother's asking whether you can finish this by next week Monday!"

"Melissa, could you please do this one for me, there's a dear now,"

"Aunty Mel! Please could you complete this one by the day after tomorrow? It's for my school function, you see?"

"Hi, Mrs. Ferguson. Please finish this one by tomorrow."

Questions and water droplets rained down on her as she recalled all the promises she had made while running through the wet, slushy mud. She would most probably regret it, but she had a whole week to complete most of them. Of course, she would have to complete Bernadette's by the next day but she would have quite a lot of time to complete the rest.

By this time, she had reached her small cottage and wrenching open the door handle, she went inside. 

In barely a few minutes, she had settled herself down on her cosy armchair and spread out her working materials on the table. 

Bernadette had supplied her with some gorgeous yellow taffeta to make a gown for the upcoming party in town. In her opinion, taffeta was a little too fancy but it would do for a gown, she supposed. 

She began to sew the main part of the dress, adding on a hem, and almost full sleeves. After around an hour and a half of hard whorl, she had finished the main dress. Now it was time for her favorite part; the decorations.

She took a bunch of yellow ribbons and began to fasten them around the sleeves and collar. She finished the task and then surveyed the dress with a critical eye. It was neat but looked quite plain. Perhaps she would embroider the bottom part of the dress.

Another half hour later, she held up the dress, satisfied. The bottom part of the dress was covered in roses of all colors and deep green leaves. It looked quite pretty without too much frippery, and that was exactly what she liked.

Lily had asked whether she could complete a deep purple frock with lace. She had also wanted something for her hair.

Melissa leaned back and closed her eyes, ideas rushing through her head like a river with a strong current. She sighed in contentment. The life of a webster was peaceful and it was spent making others happy…and that was exactly what she liked.

V for Vaunty

She strutted down the brightly lit corridor, hand on her hip. Smirking at her fans, who were lined up along the corridor, she waved a perfectly manicured hand. Her long, shiny, black  hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfectly spaced out waves and her bright, green eyes had the look of triumph that most popular girls' eyes had. 

In some ways, Nicole wished she could be more like Jenni Howard. The most popular girl in the school, Jenni had won over a fifty medals and cups for the school in various competitions. She was always nice and sweet to her friends and well-behaved to her teachers. She was well dressed and had a great fashion sense.

However, there were some disadvantages to being Jenni Howard. She was only nice and sweet to her friends, for example. She had been quite mean to a few of Nicole's friends more than once and bullied the younger kids by calling them tiny and silly.

Nicole stepped out of her place in the neatly organized line, and assumed a position in the middle of the corridor, blocking kids going to their classes. Blocking Jenni. As Jenni and her sidekicks approached, Jenni stopped smirking and began to frown instead.

"Hey, get out of the way. We're going to our classes, can't you see?" Jenni said loudly.

"Yeah, I can see quite clearly, thanks. Um, Mrs. Johnson asked for your chart. She wanted to, uh, exhibit it in the Science exhibition," Nicole said with a smug smile,"but I can see that you don't want to, ahem, so never mind."

Saying so she stepped back to the side of the corridor.

"Um…" Jenni replied, clearly thinking hard. "You can't just block students going to their classes, you know? But, just this once I'll forgive you and give you what you want."

Jenni handed over a bright pink chart with information written on it with a gold metallic pen. Nicole looked at it for a second and then gave a disdainful look at Jenni. 

"Huh. Well, okay. I'm not sure Mrs. Johnson'll be too happy with it but never mind, we'll see, okay?" she said jeeringly.

"Okay, yeah, whatever," Jenni muttered, looking furious.

Nicole turned around and began walking down the corridor. One step higher with Project: Disbanding Popular Girl. 

U for Unalterable

"Vicki Owen! Please come and seat yourself inside the waiting room," a loud, foreboding voice called out from behind the dull, grey colored door.

Vicki got up with a breathy little sigh and started to walk to the door. She tried opening it in vain and then stood aside for somebody else to open it instead. She took the hand of the man who had just opened it and trotted inside with a determined look.

As soon as she had gotten inside, she flashed a smile at every single person in the room, making sure that everybody could see her, and pointed at a scruffy little boy, who was snuffling into his teddy bear. He immediately sat up, his back straight and his teddy bear forgotten. 

She pointed to the floor and he got off the chair, looking disappointed. Nobody murmured when she clambered up onto the chair and then pointed to the floor again. The boy sat on the floor and began to suck his thumb.

Her family always said that she had a way of making people listen to her. It was a shame that she could never make them listen to her. They were, sadly, immune to her charms.

"Papa!" Vicki called, with a grim look on her face, her usually twinkling grey eyes stern.

"Yes, darling?" the man she had walked in with asked.

"Papa, do I have to go? It's not compolusery, is it?" she asked with the all the charms of a four year old girl.

"Yes, sweetie, you do," her father replied, running a hand through his shiny red hair.

She began to sulk and stared straight ahead at a new door, with a shiny gold handle. She liked that handle. Perhaps she would ask her father for one. 

"Vicki Owen! Please come in!" the foreboding voice called from inside.

She got up and smoothed down the folds of her dress. Her carefree childhood was over. The future was unalterable. She would have to go to school.