Opposite

The Opposite

Prologue

It was supposed to be a normal day. I was supposed to be a normal 16 year old girl, at school, bored out of her brains. Was it like this? No. Since that day my life has been like, the space underneath a ladder or the opposite of a good-luck charm. People prefer to believe that they are safe, that they won’t be involved in a war or be murdered. They prefer to just see those things on the News and sympathize but inside they are privately thanking God that that is not them. I was one of those people until what I thought would never happen, happened.

I always thought my life would lead to something big, but this was not on my list. I imagined fame or being able to make a difference, not near death experiences. I shouldn’t be complaining, it’s not as if anyone could have stopped it. Thinking back on it now, I can’t believe I survived it, that I didn’t have a breakdown. It’s like I was a whole different person. I guess in certain situations I react better.

People used to always say to me “Life isn’t fair” and I used to say: “Why can’t it be?” Now I fully understand that phrase. Life isn’t fair.


Chaos

The day started normally. It was Friday the 13th of April. The date should have been the first sign, but I didn’t even think about it. I woke up at 7:30am and dragged my sorry butt out of bed. I put both legs in one trouser leg somehow and my eyes seemed to be glued together. I was dreading going to school that day because I had a chemistry exam first period and I hadn’t studied, as usual. Even if I had studied I don’t think I would have done well, but I didn’t even make it to first period that day.

I walked to the bus stop, dragging my feet and humming a tune, trying to look upbeat but unfortunately I ended up looking like a crazy person. The bus was late and I kept thinking that the day could not get worse, I was wrong. I stumbled onto the bus and walked to the back. The bus, how can I explain the stupidity of my bus? The bus is cheap-skate and ugly, pretty much like any other public bus you’ve seen in Auckland but with more graffiti, body odour, rubbish and children. All the other secondary students that went to Willow Heights and I sit in the back half and all the reject intermediate goers sit in the front. People jostled onto the bus, pushing, shoving, swearing and threatening, just to get the best seat, because where you sat on the bus showed how popular you were. Take Rupert for example, he was the only one who got on the bus at the first stop, so he had any seat he wanted…until everyone else came on. Then he got pulled up and had to stand in the aisle. This shows that Rupert is not popular. Poor Rupert.

Doesn’t that sound like the most hellish ordeal to go through first thing in the morning, when you feel like crap and you need peace and quiet to study for the exam you forgot to study for? Well it is pretty hellish but I bet there are worse things that you can encounter first thing in the morning. I wasn’t “popular” but I wasn’t Rupert, so I was allowed a seat at the back. I sometimes felt like pushing the fool that sat next to me off his seat and pulling Rupert onto it but I really didn’t want to end up standing in the aisle with the “unpopular” people, so I didn’t. It sounds worse than it is. I think.

The amazing thing is that I still didn’t study. I watched the raindrops chase each other along my window, the sun rising ever slowly at its own pace, listening to the incessant swell of chatter. Who does that? I think I should get something checked out because that’s not right. I didn’t even realise until my feet hit the tarmac of the school grounds, that I was at school. My eyes widened. How do I do it? I don’t even know, being inconvenient just comes naturally to me. Chaos seemed to follow me like a giant wrecking ball. INCONVENIENCE! I joined the humble crowd, walking in a fluid movement to the front doors to get to home room. I knew if the bell rang and I was late, that the day would officially suck. I got to homeroom on time somehow and joined my friends, nodding my head.

I have three best friends. They are shrill and obnoxious and they could possibly be the coolest people I have ever met. There is Suzanne (the loud, hilarious, stunning, human circus), Joseph (the musical, shy, cheeky, stud) and Isabella (the calm, sporty, enthusiastic, braniac). None of the students hated us but none of the teachers loved us, especially when we were all in the same class. I think they are the ones that kept me sane; we made a huge impact that day.

The day my school got invaded by terrorists.


Normal


3 weeks earlier we had all poked fun at the fact we had a terrorist attack drill. They kept telling us “Students, today you will witness a new thing here in the school. You all will.” We couldn’t help but laugh at their earnestness, I mean, how many crazy terrorists in New Zealand are there? And we didn’t think it very likely that these “terrorists” were going to choose to blow up our school specifically. The three bells went off as the drill, we started to laugh again, even though we were getting stern looks from the teacher as we locked the door and windows, but if “the terrorist” heard those three bells he would know he had been found out and therefore lacked the element of surprise and would probably blow himself up on the spot. So, the bells are effectively making the situation worse. Our teacher kept repeating “If only we had fences…”, like fences would keep anything out or in. It’s ridiculous.