Friday The 13th

I’m not one for superstitions but this Friday the 13th was too much to handle.


I woke up thinking that Friday, November 13th had occurred twice over the past two years.


Because my mind had confused the unfortunate date that Arpeggio was consistently bothering me throughout, which happened to be his birthday.

My glasses had broken in my dad’s car because they flew off my face, hit the window, and got broken underneath Begonia’s foot which she stepped on my fingers before I could grab them, the Sunday before the 13th and I had to go to school with Begonia’s narrow pink pair of old glasses.

Which isn’t healthy, but you got to do what you got to do. I could have been a bat that whole week.

I honestly didn’t think TOO bad happen. Boy, was I wrong.

In the shower, I only got one millisecond of hot water before the water decided to come from the Arctic. In my moment of shock, I slipped in the shower and the new bar of soap, which are VERY hard, smacked me straight in the face. Leaving the bathroom and rubbing my face, I dried myself and applied lotion.

Unfortunately,  It was my face lotion for my acne which has acid. And since my legs are sensitive, they started to itch.

So me with my itchy twitchy legs galloped all way into my closet where my pile of new clothes were and the blouse I knew was going to be there that planned to wear. But perhaps I should have checked on the blouse first because there was this type of darkened circle smack dab in the middle and I was confused as heck.

But then there’s a LARGE variety of clothes in my closet that I had to replace it with. And not to sound typical, but it takes forever and a half figuring out what to wear if my plans end up screwing up.

I will literally sit in my closet and look at the clothes without a clue. I’m strange.

Eventually, I chose another blouse and started for the stairs. Unfortunately I misstepped and fell down the stairs.

And guess who noticed?

No one.

In fact to make me feel better about myself, Swamp stood at the top of the stairs and literally laughed as he went downstairs making no effort to help me.

“I wonder why I just have the worst siblings in the world.” I grumbled to myself as I slowly got up and checked myself for any injuries, cuts, or bruises.

Hoping nothing else would happen, I went to the kitchen to get breakfast. There were two jugs of milk that looked identical and I chose the less full one so it would finish and then the new one would be opened later. I poured it into my bowl of cereal and placed it beside me as I began to eat.

The milk tasted incredibly salty and sour. Like salt and vinegar chips but in milk form.

“What is up with this milk?” I asked no one.

That’s when Fletcher laughed at me again, “Wow, you are absolutely stupid. That’s my project, dummy.”

I immediately spat out the milk and clawed at my tongue, “WHY DIDN’T YOU LABEL IT OR SOMETHING.”

“I did.” He smirked and pointed at this obscure, tiny gray spot in the first circle of the percent sign.

Fletcher was really ticking me off this morning.

I continuously rinsed and spat water trying to get the taste off my tongue and ultimately decided to brush my teeth again. I slowly walked downstairs, grabbed a bottle of water and my snack and left the house, after turning out all the lights and locking the door behind myself. I, very carefully, walked to the bus stop, wanting nothing else to occur.

My friend looked to me, “Hey, Delia. Can you help me open this?” She held a water bottle. “It’s jammed.”


And I tried and tried but I couldn’t open it.

“Wait, give it here.” Swamp’s friend said.

And he tried and then it opened.

And sprayed.

All over me.

Did I mention it was carbonated water?

I was wet with carbonated water all over me. “Will this get sticky?”

“I don’t think so…?” My friend guessed.

I sighed as I tried to wring my shirt.

Fletcher was just dying near the mailbox as I stood miserably.

Nice to know he’s got my back.

when has he ever

And so I climbed onto the bus, looking wet as people stared at me the whole way to seat 7. I stared out the window with thoughts that confirmed this day COULD AND WOULD get worse. I said pretty nothing on the bus ride for all I really did was listen to Taylor Swift’s Red album. Getting off the bus, I nearly fell into a sign which was smack-dab in the middle of where the bus’ doors opened. I slowly walked up the stairs which was always congested since it was apparently the new hangout for all the popular 8th graders before class started (and even after).

“That’s a new attractive look.” Aria commented as I came into homeroom.

“Gee, thanks.” I dead-panned as I grabbed a chair and set it down. “I think the carbonated water really brings out my darling eyes.”

“Bad luck blues, got you down?” She questioned at the lockers.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

So I worked on studying for the science test that was that day. But when I got up to say the Pledge of Allegiance, my leg got caught with the chair and Coast’s chair, I don’t even know how, and I fell on my back. People were asking if I was okay while trying stifle their laughs. How embarrassing.

My back was aching as I forced myself up and trudged to Math with a lack of enthusiasm while I traveled the hall. Nothing much happened after that except when during the Brain Gym in Social Studies, I fell with my chair again.

And in Spanish, we got a 45 question Pop “Quiz”. I knew the material, it’s just my mind was busy blanking out. Aria left the room in a hurry for Orchestra and I was the last one leaving. Leaving the Spanish room, suddenly it felt like my bags were dragging me down and I slipped and fell again near the door and people walked in saying, “Thanks, Delia.” thinking that I was leaving the way for them.

“Why are you on the floor and letting people walk over you?” I heard someone ask.

“Well, you know, rough carpet is the new heavenly clouds, haven’t you heard?” I commented as I was helped up, “Thanks.”

“No problem. You should get on to Orchestra.” Arco said before he went in.

I rushed into my safe haven: Orchestra.

Nothing can ruin my day here.


I nonchalantly grabbed my case off the rack as usual and plopped into my seat hoping for a good rehearsal. However, My heart stopped when I opened my instrument case. I felt tears prick at my eyes but I didn’t dare cry in front of the whole orchestra.

I simply raised my hand and let out almost a squeak, “Mrs. Anima?”

She looked at me and then looked at me with sad eyes as she noticed I opened my case.

“Oh, Delia.” She breathed.

The whole orchestra began to look at me.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Aria hopped over, “Oh, f-ck.” She whispered.

My viola had been cracked without a bridge and just picking it up I could hear something rattling around.

“What… happened.” I struggled to get out.

Everyone looked my instrument.

Mrs. Anima looked at me as to ask if it was alright say it to them.

“Sure.” was all I said.

“Alright, so Delia has a brother in the 6th grade with who she shares an instrument with.  And her family isn’t only one, there’s more families like that. So today, he put his instrument on one part of his lap and the case on the furthest part.”

You could hear all the face-palms and see so many people rolling their eyes. It’s BASIC knowledge, LOGIC EVEN not to do EVER do that.

but NO.

“And so he dropped the instrument and the case crashed into the instrument,” people looked at me and winced, “And I have to say this, never in my 13 years of teaching have I ever seen a bridge naturally go inside the f-hole and I can’t seem to get it out.”

great. My brother was orchestra legendary and in a horrible way. I wanted to literally explode and leave shrapnel all over Swamp.

“You know, those certain words are perfectly acceptable use right now if you feel like it.” Aria said, shrugging.

“D-mn, 6th graders always destroying things.”

” The 6th graders are really destructive this year, I mean we were more extremely careful and scared of it than reckless like they are.” Aster noted.

Most of the orchestra spoke in agreement.

Pond looked to me, “Try not get arrested for murder this weekend.”

“I can’t promise you that.” I gave a small smile before I glared at the ceiling. All of the violas looked to me.

“Actually, I think we’ll help you kill him.” A girl started.

“We just need a shovel and a hideable weapon and links with the police along with maybe a get away car and fake IDs, oh those would be very useful and..” Amaryllis rambled.

“Too far, Amaryllis.” They all told her.

This made feel really okay. These people were basically my family and the violas were the deeper part of it. We were the ignored, “lacking” instrument group, yet they actually had my back unlike my actual family.

Hyacinth and Anemone soon approached me and said they could get the bridge out. I was very doubtful at and it took them pretty much all of class but they got it out. Unfortunately they couldn’t get the Sound Post out. I had play a viola WAY too small for me to play but persevered.

I wanted to take pictures of the damage done just before putting it in and and shutting the case. I set my bookbag and case in a corner as I began to stack the chairs less heavy than my heart. I loved my viola and this had to happen right before I thought I had a good name to name it.

Arpeggio entered and I rolled my eyes not needing anything else to provoke me. I began to put away the stands as he said a honest hello to me. All I did was respond with a clipped ‘hi’.

“Yeah, she’s p-ssed.” Aria explained.

Arpeggio got one stand and watched me put one before commenting, “Wait that’s the wrong way.” And tried to fix it.

The first stand smacked me in the face and felt immediate pain near my nose and the lips.

“Now why is this stuck?” he tried to continously get the one stand out and the other stand ended up hitting me in the face again.


They peered at my face.

“Now, why the h-ll would you do that, Arpeggio?” Coast griped.

“You’re going to f-cking get it.” Aria concluded.

I was frustrated to no end at that moment.

“Delia, I-”

I raised my hand as I walked straight past, not even wanting to hear it anymore.

“Mrs. Anima,” I began, clutching my lip, “Can I go get water? My lip is bleeding.”

She winced when she saw the blood and nodded as she was talking to the young bassist who often came in the room on Friday. I walked briskly out of the orchestra room and into the barren hallway that still had voices echoing from the other connection classrooms.

No matter how much water I drank and times I tried to chill out, the taste of iron still rushed in  my mouth. I slowly walked back inside as people looked at me while putting another stand away. After continuously muttering about how glad I would be when the day ended, I noticed the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, people.” I heard from my left.

“Why are you here?” I immediately snapped in a chilly tone while adjusting another stand before shoving its innocent self into the stand rack with the others forcibly.

“Do I have to answer that question?”

I felt myself relax some for he could never keep me mad for long.

“I’m sorry, but seriously? Did Mr. Firth kick you out?”

“Oh, I get it, but no. I had to escape the dictatorship before it was too late.”

The way Mr. Firth says “kick you out” sounds like “kicskt you out.” And trust me when I say this, he says this phrase A LOT. So some guys made a joke about it and yeah.

“Ah,” I leaned my folded arm on the rest of the stand, “So guess what happened to my viola?”

“It broke.”

I looked at him like, how the..

“Yeah, actually.”

He turned to Mrs. Anima’s, “Was it Lavender’s where the sound post went…” And he made an up motion with his finger. Lavender’s viola broke by it being on the floor (which is never good) and Juniper reaching something, knocking over a chair and the sound post broke through all the wood and basically destroyed the bridge.

She shook her head and I answered while pushing the stand cart back, “No, but the bridge fell into it, it’s out now, and the sound post is rattling around there. As a plus, it’s cracked. And my face met a stand up and personal twice.”

We kind of spoke more before I rushed off to the buses. On the bus, in my neighborhood, I got struck in the face by a tree limb from the open window. When I got home, I was removing my boots and then something else decided to add to my misfortunacy.

Is that a real word? Misfortunacy? Well, it’s a word now. Or before now?

Anyways, a part of the right boot sole ripped off mid-removal. I had just gotten them during the spring break and in a moment of panic(! At The Disco {Sorry, I couldn’t myself that time}), I instantly threw the boots in the deep depths of my closet and nearly prayed they would fix themselves before I declared myself as Very Misfortunate.

Wasn’t my day splendid?

But more important than what happened to me, the ISIS attacks on Paris were that Friday night. ;-;

Its actually quite interesting how they used that Friday known for bad luck and fear.. Odd scare tactic.

Float In The Cyber Space.


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