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Lessons in Forgiveness	By : rinflowers1986 Category: +1 through F > Ed, Edd, and Eddy Views: 4391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Ed Edd and Eddy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“The day my life went all to hell.”

Yeah, that seamed like an appropriate title for the piece of shit essay my new literature teacher gave us. We were supposed to write something stupid about an event that changed us, for better or worse. “It could be a pet or family member’s passing. The end to a cherished friendship or relationship, or a move.” Yeah. I chose move. If you could call what I did a “Move” More like a migration across more never ending scenery than a b-movie could produce, to land here.

“Somewhere in the middle of a place next to nowhere,” as my wonderful roommate described it, I guess its someplace in Arizona. I don’t know, no one knows really. This place just isn’t on any map, and for good reason. I bet the map maker went here, and experience such a trauma that all memory of this hellish place was wiped from his mind and so he just flew on autopilot and skipped right over here.

Let me describe it for you. It’s a small school, VERY small. A few buildings that served as the dorms arranged in a complete circle around the main building where our classes resided. A rode separated each dorm, like a driveway, and ran like a thick black tar mote around the center building. Outside our circle of dorms was nothing but miles of scenery, mostly used by my fellow pupils. There were a few acres of farmland to the west filled nearly to bursting with animals, apparently owned by one student. To the east was a planted forests, having grown some in the forty years since it was constructed, there was a watering hole for the animals, mostly used by the students as a pool. Oh, and all of this is surrounded by towering rocky mountains that look like some giant toddler was playing with blocks, precariously stacking them in the hopes that they will tumble down and provide some form of entertainment to it’s underdeveloped mind. Joy.

From the moment I arrived on campus I would look up at those rocky crags and prey for some sort of earthquake that would send all those misshapen formations tumbling down to crush the school and all its inhabitants so I could return home to the hell I knew, away from this new damnation.

Well, I suppose that’s good enough of an introduction. Why not get on with the body of my story? After all, I should really follow format. Wouldn’t want to ‘fail’ my class right? Ha.

It started at my old school, a far different place than this. Brimming with various different types of dorks and sports geeks, and art fanatics, emos and goths, punks and rockers, country folk, exc. Everybody was a dork to me, except me of course, and the occasional skater. Everyone in my line of sight who didn’t share my view of the world as a rotating dirtball infested with idiots living their pathetic lifestyles and working to advance to a higher, less worthless but still pathetic lifestyle. Just my luck that the school, and everywhere else, was inhabited by optimistic and or pessimistic dorks. If they weren’t smiling about every damn thing they were complaining about how horrible their life was and how much everybody in the damn world hated them or didn’t understand them or, my personal favorite, just didn’t care. I’m a card carrying, button wearing, bumper-sticker owning member of the last choice.

I. Don’t. Care. Plain and simple. If I put for a little more interest I might get that tattooed on my bum, so when I moon the god damn whiners they’d know exactly what I thought of their complaints. Of course, that action would require me caring what they thought of me, and the effort to pull down my pants in front of them was just too much of an exertion in the presence of such depression.

So given my attitude and taste in sports I was usually out hanging with my own clique in the parking lot. Now we weren’t skaters, though a few members were, we just belonged to our own special group. And we preferred not having a name for our special outcast status. We were a sarcastic lot consisting of sports geeks, goth dorks, biker retards, and skater morons; basically anyone who held the same idea that the world and all its stupidity would eventually destroy itself. We just wanted to have some fun before we blew up.

But that all changed when they handed out the tests. They weren’t necessarily thick packets, but they were fancy, trimmed in blue ink and wrapped up in a gold ribbon. The words “Your Chance for a Future” were printed in big, golden letters on the cover. If ever a chance for a future were handed to you, you’d expect it to look like that. I of course, couldn’t give two shits where my future was going. My dad was filthy rich, my mom was filthy rich, and I had the job of my dreams, working down at the auto shop. Still, it caught my interest when the teachers said we had two days to work on them, in or outside of class.

Two days; to take the tests wherever we want, wherever we go. Look answers up in books, correspond with our friends. Sounded like the easiest A a student could ask for. My group? Well not that we cared or anything but the questions were pretty interesting, almost personal. Sure there was the basic math and reading and science in there, but the thin packet mainly consisted on our view on life, and the world in general. In the end, we would surprise ourselves by the answers we put down.

Now I’m not much at math and science, though I do enjoy a good book once in a while, I refuse to say what genre, but views on life? Common, you should understand by now that that was my calling. I had ass loads of opinions. Very few of which I actually used. You see, the way the questions were asked, they way they were phrased, it made you have to really think about it. The question, not what other people would think of your answer. Some were multiple choice, others involved scribbling down a sentence or two. Surprisingly many people, almost all of my group, turned in extra sheets of paper where we continued our thoughts. I tried to keep it within the lines of what they were asking. They gave us room for two sentences; I’ll narrow my opinion of the meaning of life down to two sentences.

The two days were up; we turned in our packets, and thought about the strange test for a few more days, then ultimately forgot it. It was how high school worked.

It was a few months after that, right before school would end for our brief, two week summer vacation after which we would come back to a knew classroom, new schedule, and new set of skills to learn. How was I to know that the moment I set foot through the door of my home, school would have officially ended; my life along with it.
Apparently the test was a scouting thing; a private school had offered a temporary scholarship to whom ever got the best score on the test. Not saying I passed with flying colors. My overall score was a 78%, but they were please with my written answers. You know, the ones where I summed everything I believed about the world into a few choice sentences dispersed around the pages of the packet. I wasn’t the smartest or the bets, I was the most interesting. So I was to be shipped off to a school for the interesting.

The rich and interesting, as I soon realized. The amount the family’s paid to have their children learn here was no small sum. And as for the temporary scholarship. It was like an all expense paid vacation to an asylum. One school year, one full school year at this private school. I’ll have a chance to work for another scholarship for another year when the deadline approaches. If they aren’t pleased with my progress they’ll ship me home. Still, one full year. Yeash.

And so I left, in a small fancy car driven by a driver who sat behind a black screen window. A small suitcase of cloths and a few knickknacks, my lucky baseball for one, sat beside me on the plush cushioned seats. My favorite bike was wrapped up in protective foam and strapped to the back of the car, more so that it wouldn’t scratch the car, not for my bikes protection. The day wore on then night came. Eventually I fell asleep.

And woke up in my new room. Really, I don’t know how I got here, the thought that someone carried me was way disturbing so I told myself I walked here and forgot about it. Too sleepy to do anything but plop down on my bed. My cloths were already packed away in my dresser, a thick soft wood block with four deep drawers and weird designs engraved in it. My bike was propped up against the wall of my room, the lock and chain still in the small leather bag tied to the handlebars, the key still tied to my shoelace.

I explored the dorm a bit; really it looked like a house. A kitchen, a living room, two bathrooms connected to each other by a door, and a door from my room leading to my bathroom, I assumed that the second bathroom had an identical door leading to my roommate’s room. The house had two bedrooms; by the proportions I’d say they were identical. I stood for a moment staring at the door to the other bedroom with a strange sign of it. It looked a bit like D2, in like a squared form. Like in algebra... don’t ask me, I barely pay attention. Shaking my head I turned to go back down the hall, when the door opened.

And out stepped a golden haired god in nothing but a pair of sagging silk boxer shorts. After he got over the shock of seeing me, in my rumpled traveling cloths, standing in the middle of the hallway staring at him. Yeah, he turned as red as my signature cap and slammed the door and didn’t come out until an hour later, dressed and pressed from head to toe. With some kind of sagging beanie covering his head.

After the dozen days of summer vacation I learned a lot about him and this school, he appointed himself my personal tour guide. I always hated dorks like him, cheery, smart, bordering on showoff. And way too clean, there’s not a speck of dust in the place. Still, whenever I’m on the verge of shoving him in the nearest “trash receptacle,” I always get the vision of him that day, early morning, golden hair and boxer shorts. Unfortunately I have yet to stumble across him half dressed again, not that I want to see him like that. He just didn’t look like a dork then is all, he looked…kind of cool. To this day, my roommate remains the only good thing about this school.

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Kevin sighed as he reread his essay on the computer. It was everything he had wanted it to be. Cynical, rude, and insulting. Eddward had offered to proofread it for him; to be sure he would get a good grade. Raking his fingers through his mass of red hair he highlighted the last few paragraphs and hit delete. Now one, NO ONE, would ever read that.

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Yeah, I belong to the group of fangirls who believe full heartedly that D2 has gorgeous blond locks hidden beneath that sock of his. So, tell me what you think. I liked starting it off with Kevin’s totally asshole attitude towards life, and ending it with his crush on his roommate.
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Lessons in Forgiveness