A Bottle of Coke

Niamh has two worlds. One is in her head and allows her to do whatever she wants; she has total control. Niamh is free, completely content and allowed to express herself whether it be violently or otherwise. The other is not so much fun... for starters everyone is fake and sitting in a class with 29 other pricks who have more than one face is troubling.
In the real world she isn't able to show how she feels and things pile up until she is ready to explode. No one gives a damn about her and quite frankly the feeling is mutual. But as things begin to toughen, Niamh realises she has a lot to learn.


1. Niamh

My hand clenches around the first thing it comes into contact with, my water bottle. Teeth clenched I throw it at my teacher, her monotone chatter ceases immediately and a red mark blooms across her forehead. Mrs Kyle’s mouth drops open and she stands there floundering. It makes me laugh as though I am crazy.

The entire class stare at me, gobsmacked. They cannot believe I have just done this. I don’t care though. This is the first time I feel alive. I turn quickly to the boy beside me and clout the back of his head. Prick. I’d never liked him because he was one of those quiet people that is actually really mean about everyone behind their back. Before he has time to react I get up out of my chair, pick up my stuff and make my way towards the door. The class is still silent. I’m known to have a bad temper but this is way beyond anything I’ve ever done before.

A joyous feeling spreads through me and I feel quite proud of myself, no matter how violent my actions may be. I catch the eye of the boy I smacked and I take satisfaction in the way that he glares at me

“Young lady! Do you have any – why did you – go to the centre – NOW!” Mrs Kyle fumes still in complete disbelief in not what has happened, but that it was me who did it. She turns her attention to the head girl “Take her to whoever is on call and make sure she goes to the centre!”

A slippery smile slithers across the girls face. “Yes ma’am.”

She is quite pretty on the outside. Her only flaws are her lanky brown hair and her crooked teeth. In fact she was a lot like a shiny red apple. Only once you cut through to her core you saw that she was rotten on the inside. I wasn’t surprised of course; it was her nature to be a bitch. Not many people liked her but being two faced was second nature to most so everyone pretended to like her, trying to assure themselves and everyone else that it was out of sympathy. We all knew that was bollocks.

Smiling, I reach forward, grab onto her hair and slam her head onto the nearest table, taking delight in the sweet crunch of her nose –


“Excuse me sit up please.”

I groaned inwardly. Stupid cow. She could be speaking to anyone but if she had she would’ve said their name. Mrs Kyle had the most wonderful inability to pronounce mine meaning that she rarely even attempted to guess how to say it.

My name is Niamh. Yeah, yeah I looks like it’s difficult but it really isn’t. It’s pronounced ‘neev’. Not ‘ne-ahm-mah’ or however the hell your brain wants to say it. NEEV.

I was given the name because my father is Irish. I didn’t know or care much about him. He walked out on my mother a few months after I was born. Perhaps that was why she was so mean and cynical all the time.

My head raised and my eyes met with a pair of hard blue ones.

She cut her eye at me and continued. “May I just point out that this lesson is not for sleeping…”

On and on she went until I could take no more. It was exhausting being in this class and she was already sending me right off with her droning tone. Ugh. I felt my head lower back on my arms and I sighed happily. Glancing at the clock I noticed that the lesson had only been going on for about twenty minutes. There were still another gruelling forty minutes to go.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...