Expelled in Sixty Seconds: A Raegan Mckenna Fanfic

She's got an amazing bedroom that's always messy, masses of money she spends on fast-food and video games, a picturesque house that's never felt like home, and a perfect family that wish she'd never been born. Raegan Mckenna is a reject, and she'll be god-damned if she lets her new school accept her. If she's going to be a misfit, she's going to be the best damned misfit Emberly's ever seen.
This is a fanfiction of "Welcome to Emberly" by movellas user IAmYourNemesis. All credit for characters, locations and all that good stuff goes to her. It will make sense if you haven't read the movella, but you really ought to read it, because it's fantastic.


2. Anger Problems

“Excuse me. Uh, Mister… Sir?”

Raegan stuck her hand up and stared the teacher down till he looked up from his computer. He didn’t say a word; just jerked his eyebrows upwards in that way teachers did to ask, What the hell do you want, child? Can’t you see I’m busy? She bet he was just playing Minesweeper.

“Uh, yeah.” Raegan licked her lips and sat up. “There seems to be a mistake on my timetable.”

The teacher, or form tutor as he’d called himself, had spent the entire morning acting about six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than he actually was. Raegan bet she could lift him up with one hand if she tried. He pushed his glasses up his nose before sighing heavily and answering her.

“Yes? What’s the problem?”

He sounded bored. What the fuck gave him the right to be bored? Extortionate tuition fees from rich twats like her parents were paying him to be here. Well, that was where Raegan assumed the money was going, anyway; it certainly wasn’t going on making the shitty building look nice, nor was it seeming to do anything to elevate the school out of its thoroughly average atmosphere which, so far, was just another grotty bustle of indifferent students and condescending teachers. Oh, sorry; tutors.

“Uh, yeah.” Raegan said, squinting down at her timetable. No, yeah; that’s definitely what it says. “It says on here my first class is, uh… literary theory?”

“But?” The teacher said.

But,” Raegan repeated. “Literary theory’s not actually a thing. You can’t be serious. Like, when you say…” she put on an English accent, pushing the Irish affections in her voice down as far as she could and trying not to grin. “When you say literary theory, what you actually mean is English. Right?”

The teacher curled his lip up in irritation. “Um, no, we mean literary theory, dear.”

“So, uh… what exactly does one do in, um… literary theory?” Raegan sighed and withered her eyes at the handful of students who’d turned to stare at her, sticking her middle finger up at one boy who’d shoved her on the way in.

The teacher looked at her like he was nonplussed by her stupidity. “Uh… Raegan, right?”

He’d pronounced her name wrong. He’d said it Ree-gan instead of Ray-gan. She didn’t correct him; It was hilarious to her how stupid these stuck-up people actually were. Some of the kids in the room were so posh they sounded like American people trying to parody an English accent; she betted most of them had played a video game before, or eaten at a fast-food restaurant. Nah, she was being judgemental again, wasn’t she? Correction: they’d probably walked into a KFC at some point and then walked right back out once they’d discovered the C didn’t stand for caviar. Or that they didn’t serve swan. Shit, you’re getting distracted. It’s your anger problems again; mum’s always going on at you to remember your medicine. Look back at him. Stop glazing over.

One of the girls in front of Raegan whispered something to her friend. They both glanced behind them and sniggered. Raegan’s middle finger, having not been used for a while, started itching.

“Well, um… Raegan.” The teacher said. “Literary theory is reading and writing. Ever tried that before, sweetie?”

More sniggers. Someone at the front mumbled “Goldfish brain.” How original.

“Oh, right, right, yeah.” Raegan held down the frustration, cursing the medication she’d forgotten to take that morning. “So it’s basically exactly like English, then?”


“What you’re saying is that you just took a subject with a perfectly easy to pronounce two-syllable name and you gave it a posher stupider one, Sir?”

The teacher blinked. “I beg your pardon, Raegan?”

“It’s Raegan.” She said. “And don’t worry; I gotcha. Literary theory is just a fancy way of saying English.”

Raegan slumped down further into her chair.

“Even though nobody here seems to fucking speak it.”

“What was that?”


The teacher rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, and went back to playing Minesweeper.


On her way to literary theory, Raegan came across a group of boys outside on the pathway, slouched against the walls like a particularly poncey smoking club. All of them were spindly and weedy-looking, with perfectly combed hair, but she assumed from the way they glowered at her as she approached that they thought they were the coolest kids in the world. They were laughing about something, but as she came up on them they all stopped to look at her. One little kid with a tufty, sorry excuse for a moustache snorted with laughter.

“What d’you want, Ginger Nut?” The tallest boy said to her. His tie was slightly undone, one corner of his shirt was untucked, and he held a can of Red Bull in his hand. Oh, shit, call the police; we’ve got a right badass here.

“Um.” Raegan raised one eyebrow. “Mate, I need to get past. You’re blocking the pathway.”

“We block whichever pathway we want, Ginger.”

“Uh, yeah. Much as I’d hate to disturb the Thug Life you were clearly living before I interrupted you, I’ve actually got a twatty class to go to. And you’re blocking the path.” She clenched her fists.

“Walk on the grass!” Some other kid yelled.

She turned sideways. “As much as I’d love to, my mum paid, like, eighty quid for these twatty shoes and I don’t think she’d appreciate me muddying them. I’m just trying to get to Room Five.”

“Ooh, she’s Oirish!” Red Bull Boy said. “Watch out, lads!”

They all laughed. Raegan sighed, closing her eyes to suppress the anger.

“Anyone? Room Five? Help an adorable year seven out?”

She was taller than all of them but the ringleader.

“A redhead with anger problems?” Another boy heckled. “How fucking original of them to send us one of those.”

“Sorry. I’m off my meds.” Raegan smiled sweetly. “Keep blocking my way if you wanna see a real shit-show, assholes.”

She saw a couple of the boys exchanging glances. Raegan rolled her eyes and tried to push past, but a couple of them got up and stood in her way.

“Guys, please.”

She wished she had something smart to say, but a genius comeback would doubtless come six days too late.

“Room Five ain’t this way!” Someone said with another laugh.

“Uh, are you sure?” Raegan said. “I’m, uh… assuming you know the school? You see, I was given this quest by a magical wizard. He gave me this map, and it clearly says the literary theory room is, like, beyond the Elwynn Forest, across from the Eternal Flame Crematorium, and then right to the north of the clusterfuck of weedy douchebags who think they’re gangsters. Anyone seen any of those?” She sighed, wondering just how bad it’d be if she just got her shoes dirty.

Very bad. Your mum hates you just for existing. Imagine how awful it’d be if that existence actually led to something she’d have to deal with.

What did she just call us?” Someone with a particularly squeaky voice piped up from the back.

“Sorry. I’m new to this whole social ladder.” Raegan sighed. “Please just move. I’m lost and new and late and all that shit.”

“No.” Red Bull Boy tipped his can towards her.

She blinked. “Was that supposed to, like, uh… intimidate me or something?”

He grinned and took a swig. “Oh yeah.”

“I’m shaking in my Clarks,” Raegan said, sighing and turning to walk back the way she’d come. As she walked, she could hear the boys shouting after her, but one thing she noticed was that not a single one of them had sworn, even though there was nobody around to hear them.

I wonder if any of them even KNOW the word fuck. Probably have. They’re just too scared to use it.

None of them tried to hit me, either. Guess that’s one upside to being in a school like this, rather than my old one. Then again, there’s no telling how much I’d love to punch that stupid boy in his stupid midget face. These people think I have anger problems? I’ll show ‘em anger problems.

As she took a left turn and resolved to ask the first adult she saw for help, Raegan couldn’t help thinking that this school was not going to like her. Not one little bit.

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