No Fighting Please

Chapter 1

"I will float on my pain and my heart; I will float and feel no more. That's all I want. To feel no more."

I was so engrossed in my reading that I jumped in my seat when I heard the teacher almost shout my name.

"Azélie! Answer the question please!"

Seriously, how can this guy not realize that I don't listen during his class? I think it's something obvious to every one now.

"The question being?" I asked, him, closing my book. It's stupid really. This morning in French I started to get bored and wanted to re-read the beginning of The Bronze Horseman, when Alexander and Tatiana meet at the bus stop. Next thing you know Alexander is about to go back to war and leave Tatiana in Lazarevo. I liked the beginning more really... but that's just the thing with me. I want to re-read parts and then I end up re-reading the whole damn book.

Oh crap!

The teacher just repeated the question and I missed what it was again.

Honestly why does this teacher even bother. No one cares about Ethic and Culture class!

"I personally think that excision is just a big dude power trip to stop girls from enjoying doing it and lessen the chances of having their wives cheat on them because why in hell would they sleep with another guy if they don't enjoy it?" I started to rant.

He wants me to talk, no problem, I'll talk.

Teacher didn't find it funny though "We were talking about the Christian schism"

I shrugged "Oh well same old same old, Catholic Church is a big excision in itself"

Okay I don't have a problem with Catholic Church I just don't want him to pick me again.

But don't start my parents on this one.

Oh dear baby Jesus don't...

My parents are the living definition of separatist. Talking about the Quiet Revolution almost makes them purr in ecstasy. My mom didn't burn her bra... scratch that she did but ya... she burned her cross too. The thing is when she was younger she was just too energetic and her parents brought her to the priest and he said she was possessed by a demon and needed to be exorcised. That kind of scars a kid.

My dad had a wild way of living and his parents and everyone around told him he would burn in Hell all during his teenage years. That kinda got under his skin at one point.

Don't ever mention Maurice Duplessis at the table, they will kill you with X-Ray vision or something.

My mom said it was because the man needed to get laid that he was such a "conservative ass fuck". Her words, not mine.

Heck they called me Azélie after Louis-Joseph Papineau's daughter, that's how effed up they are!

All for the Free Québec!

I personally don't see the point of being so crazy about all of this but hey! I love my parents and their crazy activist ideas. So I don't complain.

That's the way things work in my family. My parents are separatists, my brother is a pot-head and my younger sister is a Human-Sized-Bratz.

But I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Well I would trade my brother when he triggers the smoke alarm at two in the morning when he opens the door of his room to go bake brownies.

But then again, his brownies are pretty damn good.

Good thing the teacher had turned his attention elsewhere because I was mind-rambling again.

And Vincent was kicking my chair.

I wasn't moving though. I knew exactly what would happen. He was going to lean over his desk to whisper something like an innuendo he had hear the teacher say, to laugh at his expense.

But today the chair kicking was over the top. So when I knew he was just a few inches form the back of my head, in a lightning speed movement I hid the side of his head with the back of my hand.

I heard him fall back in his chair and cursed like a sailor as I muffled my laugh.

"Azélie! If you don't listen to my class the very least you could do is not interrupt it!" the teacher said.

Doopsi, doops...

"Sorry Sir. Won't happen again! I'll just read my book quietly" I answered him smiling.

The look he gave me was priceless.

I didn't care though, I mean why the heck would he throw me out the class? Because I was reading? That would look nice when I would say that to the principal.

I could just see the scene. Me, sitting in front of my "I wear leather pants and pink blouse" principal. The exchange would definitely be quick.

I think this teacher doesn't like me just because he had my brother in his class three years ago and he still remembers him. It's a miracle there's no smoke residue in the class. Alright I might be hyperboling here but the guy did explain to me why I could see knives on the open stove at his friend's apartment and no it's not because he's sterilising them to cut people up.

Vincent kicked me out of my thinking and almost made me fall on the floor with surprise. I hadn't though about his payback. Oh well. I would kick him when the bell would ring. That's why I hadn't cut off the shorts form the skirt of our uniforms. Because I didn't enjoy exposing myself when I was kicking the shit out of him. Also because the Douchebag Squadron at our school enjoyed lifting girl's skirt up during rush hours in the stairs.

The teachers was glaring my way again and I tried doing an angelic smile his way but I think it leaned more towards the evil smile kind of thing.

Oh well. It was my last year here. And this was Ethic and Culture class. The class where Benjamin had decided to answer Chuck Norris to every question he didn't know the answer to. That's how seriously we took this class here.

When the teacher finally stopped looking my way, I turned around and looking at the blond boy with baby blue eyes that just screamed "I'm so kind" but truthfully it's just a cover, this boy is the devil in disguise, and smirked before trying to slap him.

But he was quick and saw me coming.

Next thing I knew he grabbed my arm, pulled it and I hit my chin on the corner of his desk before falling off my chair and because I had closed my hand around his wrist as a reflex, his desk followed my body colliding on the floor. And of course the desk just HAD to fall on my head.

Knowing me, you know that for some reason, it's like my head is a freaking magnet. I will ALWAYS hit it somewhere. It's a miracle I never had a concussion. Or I'm just a tough head. Either way, I was lying on the floor, yet again happy about the whole "not cutting the shorts" thing and started to laugh at my how clumsiness.

I mean I'm not overly clumsy. I just fight a lot and end up hurting myself. But I have a "no bone broken" record so I'm proud again.

The teacher didn't laugh though, and Vincent was apologizing, but laughing at the same time because let's face it I had worse.

Emma, my best friend, was giving me a reproachful look. I just knew she would give us the "no fighting in class" speech again.

But I just ignored it and gracefully sat back in my chair waving around like a princess with a big smile.

The teacher sighed and started to speak again.

This was how a normal Azélie Tremblay day went on.

© DarknessAndLight, 2010