Doomsday by Design (part 1)

Some of ya'll know, I've tried this story many times, and I have a novel version AND a manga version. I think I'm finally ready to write it properly. Here goes!

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Paranoid.

That's what they called her, their favorite word for her... excluding all the hateful, vulgar ones. She was in a particularly ghetto school setting, and in a class for special needs kids, no less... not retarded kids, no. People with emotional problems, more like. Like herself, for example.

Sandra leaned back in her chair, popping her back against the metal, awaiting anxiously for the day to end, though it wasn't even lunch time yet... still. the scent of school-made quesadillas drifted up the stairs, and she could hardly bear it. Thankfully, she had free lunch, and jeez, she couldn't wait for that bell to ring...

Not for another half hour, though.

Sandra wasn't your average girl, no... you're eighteen year old with an attitude, yes, but not average. Not really.

Spiked collar, black and silver make-up, which made her oceanic eyes glow with a beautiful, cold, snake-like leer as she gazed angrily at the world beyond her. Short, blood-red colored hair, with two long, unevenly parted bangs streaming around her pale, rounded face and her dangling dagger earrings, the rest of her hair fairly short, barely reaching her neck. Black tank top, leather jacket, black nails, fingerless black gloves, navy jeans decorated with a few chains, studded belt, the works...

Anything not to look like the drones she despised so very much.

Sandra was a medium-built girl, but she wasn't too big... she was in shape. Curvy, too... more attractive than she'd ever think of herself.

As her feet propped themselves upon her desk, the boy sitting next to her, Alan, gave her a look.

Alan was, essentially, Sandra's opposite.

He was a genius, to say the least... but because of his social issues, he landed himself in Knowles' class. A very bright, logical, straight-laced kid, who frowned upon any rule breaking. Oddly, he and Sandra were good friends, who seemed to stick by one another during school hours... neither of them was sure why.

Darius, a tall, lanky black boy, sat in the front row in a lazy way, similar to Sandra, though he, unlike her, was actually paying mind to Mr. Knowles and his teachings. He brushed one of his long corn rows away from his shining brown eyes as he stared ahead, looking monotone.

A girl sitting a row in front of Sandra, a petite girl named Luna, twirled her fingers around her pigtails as she nervously pondered on the subject at hand... something about JFK being killed, Oswald, Grassy Knoll, etc etc...

Sandra rolled her eyes, staring at the white ceiling, then staring out the window to the glistening city outside.

Such a world out there, and God knew what was going on out there right now... yet here she was, trapped in the damn shackles of the public education system, designed to mold, brainwash, and prep us to serve the world and the ravaged economy like all good little sheep are supposed to... because that was the life of the second class, nothing but paid slaves...

The thought of it sickened her. She couldn't wait until Mr. Knowles would shut the hell up so she could break away from class long enough to jump on a computer in the library, just long enough to check up on her usual conspiracy forum site to see if there were any new stories to be heard...

Sandra had been hearing a lot of buzz about a third world war online lately from her fellow conspirators. Still, it was nothing new... a website full of paranoid truth seekers, attempting to dig into every nick and cranny of the government's stories in order to find some hidden truth, some dark conspiracy... of course they'd say things like that.

Sandra sighed, the thought of it darkening her mood. She was cautious to chew her gum quietly and steathily, so not to alert Knowles. She didn't feel up to fighting him today.

Still, the subject of JFK's assassination seemed to peak her interest a little more than the usual topics in history class.

Sandra stared at him from the back of the room, her expression, as usual, blank and cold, totally unreadable.

Her overly imaginative thoughts swept over her mind once more, and she thought; What would I so if the sh!t hit the fan right now?

She repressed the thought, trying desperately to listen closely to whatever Knowles was saying, fighting her terrible short term and her microscopic attention span.

Who knew what would happen today.

Who knew.

Knowles's stringy brown hair had a certain shine to it, with the sunlight invading the classroom, casting a glare from his oval-shaped glasses.

"... magic bullet theory." He finished. This was the only part of the sentence that Sandra caught.

Sandra raised her hand.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes, but nevertheless, Knowles nodded her way.

"What makes you think a bullet is actually gonna be magic?" Sandra asked. "You really think there wasn't another person there who didn't get caught?"

"Nobody knows." Knowles told her. "But Lee Harvey Oswald was the one who--"

"There's evidence that Oswald was set up, y'know." Sandra cut him off. "He wasn't trained to do crap like that."

Knowles revealed a somewhat tired expression, seeming to understand where this conversation was going.

Sandra noticed, feeling a stab of anger pierce her.

"Well... like I said... no one knows." Knowles concluded. "Anyway..." He trailed off again, rambling on, and Sandra quickly lost interest. He never had an interest in her theories... conspiracies had no place in a class room, he said. Teach by the books, protocol, etc.

Sandra found this annoying, and used it as ammunition for her "school is brainwash" beliefs.

When she turned to gaze out the window again, her attention went to the young man sitting beside it... he was a handsome individual, one who rarely spoke to anyone in the school. He wore a sleek black suit, and he was slim, but not skinny... he had ruffled brown hair, his slender, beautifully carven face lined with side burns, and his big hazel eyes glistened with an unspoken profoundess that Sandra sometimes found compelling.

The young man's name was Abel, and he was a transfer student from England, and Sandra had spoken to him a few times, though the two of them weren't best friends or anything... but still, something about him captivated her attention. Something she couldn't explain...

Suddenly, the floor of the school gave a slight tremor, a dull thundering sound erupting from nowhere.

Knowles stopped, looking around. He turned to the window, watching the overcast that was overcoming the once sunny morning sky.

"Must be a storm coming on," Knowles told his class. "Well, anyway..." Blah blah blah...

Sandra released a cloud of breath, dismissing the odd sensation of bizarre, anxious feelings that seemed to hit her out of the blue, unprovoked entirely. She shook it off, watching the clock intently, awaiting her lunch time, her salvation.

And then we all shouted "NEXT!" at once!

Great start!

I have a feeling that floor trembling was the S hitting the fan. Our heroine is just getting started. More Please.