Welcome to First Grade Sin


I’ve remade the cover.

I have wrote small chapters. I won’t say what it is about cause if do. I won’t write it at all but I’ll post the ideas I had, like they were leading up to something #1 IDEA

They add a building block to mark your achievements. I haven’t even build mine to the top, I keep getting held back and they send me back to first grade. I sure would like to graduate from First Grade prison, or at least have someone to share this cell with me.

I can draw on the walls to cure my boredom, now if could keep the drawings on the wall instead of them popping off in every direction.

I heard second grade is so much harder than first cause they actually want you start thinking. Elmo can’t even hold his bottle, Sue is still using her fingers to count and I’ve been held back. Maybe I’m just stared to leave.

“Bishop Child”


“Girl… this is your second detention, what have you done now?”

I don’t know, I think they just like throwing me in.the ring, honestly I’m tired of being thrown by Big Red. I hate kindergarten!

“Well… there isn’t much for you to do in first grade, you’ve passed your classes, you’re really smart despite doing stupid actions”, my teacher put her hands together. The light just shined off her clear skin in the room, she was beaten up woman with an eyepatch and sown corner of her lip. A previous first grader snatched her and pulled her lip.

“How has First Grade treated you so far Bishop?”

I shrugged, it’s been hell. “You talked to your mother?”

She left me in Kindergarten, “no”, I replied softly. “It isn’t that bad Bishop. Now if you cut your hair you might look decent instead of a hood”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah? You’d love to see me weak. I love my curls”, I said. “You never tell anyone else to cut their hair”

“Because most of them are boys”, she smirked.

You know they deem it weird when you haven’t had a crush yet in Kindergarten? I mean, I would if someone was cute enough to look at but I’m surrounded by broads with skinny ponytails. I hate they stared that trend where putting Crayola  on your face. My design is cute, it’s like a crown around my eye in red.

“Bishop I’m serious. You can’t stay in Kindergarten for ever”

“Ms. Sweet…”, I groaned.

“I’ll force you out this grade if I have to”

“My blocks?”

She bit her lip, remembering I haven’t completed a single block. She looked at me firmly, “stop knocking them down”

Yes, I knocked my grades down on purpose. Who hasn’t, I hate kindergarten but second grade is hell, you can see it fromwas the fence. More boys are over there, I like being a girl on the girls side. We play awful rough but Boys just get you with that look. “Do I have to do something?”

“Well…”, she pulled out my paper from the desk. “I’m sick of seeing you here Bishop. Let’s see…. oh! Crayons war fare?”

I smiled slightly. “Stabbed one girl in the eye with a…. firetruck red…”

I really love colours. “Says here you painted her on the walls of her cell Bishop, we still don’t know how to get her down”

“Copy and Paste”

“So that’s how your hand works. That paint”

My right hand is painted up like a rainbow. Like I said, I love colours. I could dip my hand in red and paint anything, I once made a whole scenery with a forest. They thought I escaped but I’m still in jail. Messed up the guards real bad. “Drawing on walls is your sin, that’s cute”, she smiled. “Your mother had such a hard time getting you to learn but obviously with belts and hands but you’ll mark anything that proves writeable”

I like to draw on walls. You know kindergarten was made as a rehabilitation for naughty children. I can’t believe me drawing was a big fuss, well, I did draw on people’s faces a lot which proved to be a bigger deal than I thought. Probably got from my dad.

“You’ll be in second grade by the evening”, said Ms. Sweet.

“Second? By the evening!”

“Yes! By the evening!”, she mocked.  “You’ll see the Warren, he’ll show you”


“Edwards Dean I believe, WED, funny little name they came up with but the boys are friendly, a bit odd but nice kids”

I’m not actually a child but by their magic standards I’m three years old. Somebody was 33 with an age six mental if I’m correct. “I believe your stuff has already been moved–”

“Ms. Sweet!”

“Say bye to Mackenzie and the girls cause”, she stood up mighty fast to slam her hand on the desk. “You won’t be back anytime soon!”

I hate graduating.

“Hey Rannells! You prick! Give me back my juice box!”

“It’s mine! Get your own”

I never shook for hard, I’m surrounded by boys. “Fat ass give me my lunch!!”

Oh, they swear, they never let us swear. I wonder what they’ll think, seeing me. Probably a real softie, all in a dream with a poodle on it. They didn’t let us wear pants. Even the uniform was skirt or dress.

I clung my belongings to my chest, I stood in the lunch room observing all the faces. One boy had a scar across his eye, another had tattoos up and down his face, same skin like mine too, a brown shade.

I felt as if I walked in another dimension, girls acted so different from the boys. Mostly cause we were forced too.

I was scared to go through the lunch room. Food was flying, voices were loud, you’d think we were really kids and not magically disabled brats about seventeen and above. I still don’t get what magically disabled is.

I’m not disabled. Maybe. A little. Shut up.

“Mack, let me play cards with you”

“No Robbie, this game isn’t for kids”

“It’s monopoly and your 19”

I tried gliding my way through the mess of an area. Hopefully my perfume doesn’t set them off and I’ll survive.

“Who hell smells like Lillies?”

Well flump!

I never came to such a strong halt in my my life, I think I made a skid mark. Everything was so quiet, they all looked at me. The first time I was in a room like this was V and the girls, jumped me, but she was my bully. You need a bully to guide you cause it kind of builds you. Helps you grow like. V was mine and then she got trampled on the playground, I lost a friend that day.

“Girl?”, I heard it like ten times. I guess they haven’t seen something with breast but then again, I haven’t either. They teach you not to look in the showers, everyone stared but me.

“Girl!”, that yell made me jump nearly out my heels. I dropped my things and was hoisted up. I frantically kicked my legs out and all they did was laugh. “She has on a skirt”, one large boy pulled my dress. “What’s under here”

I slapped his hand away and he whined. He couldn’t have been more then twenty. “This one has breast!”, one said excitedly. I was in a ditch, surrounded, caged in. One boy poked my chest and licked his lips. He had some cold green eyes. “She looks like Rook”

“Hey… but why her eyes like that?”

The bright green eye boy poked my face. “She’s awfully cute”, she said. “Are those braces?”

“Is that your real hair?”

“You look seven”

“How old are you”

I was getting bombed with questions and when I’m overwhelmed I usually explode. I start seeing colors, it’s not nice to cage an animal. I jerked by my arm and shirt lifted up. “She has a flat stomach!”

“Her feet are small too”

“She has bows in her hair!”

“What’s she taste like?”

“I wanna play hopscotch with her–”

Stop touching me, stop! Colors of purple and green flashed at me like blood spots. I was cornered, no exit. I can’t… breathe…. It’s too hot.

“Hey, girly, you look sick…” voices sounded distorted and out of sync. Please let me go.

Everything was all colorful, surrounded by a rainbow, too much red. I can’t handle this!

I heard a loud horn sound and they back off. “Pops…”, they all uttered. I hate graduating, I hate kindergarten, I hate school, I hate my life!

I scurried out the pit of hell I was in and was just under a random lunch table trying to figure what just happened.

“What the hell are you boys doing!”, the voice made me feel so much better, mostly cause it was the voice of jesusa, a savior. Hallelujah.

“Now… stop acting like you’ve never seen boobs and pussy before! You’ve seen miss Ms. Sweet, now she’s a nice lady ain’t she?”

“Yes sir…”

“Now Ms. Sweet taught us about self control, taught each and every one to be a gentleman, cept Rook and we don’t need nor want any more funny boys”

The man I assumed as the warren came to coax mecable out my safe spot. “Hey there…”, his tone was gentle. “You’ve got funny eyes, lamb, just like Rook”

I’m starting to be more interested the more I hear the name Rook, he looks like me? I want to see. “Come on out from under there, how old are you?”

I hesitated, “about… seventeen”

“Two years old?” He chuckled. “Rook’s 19, the biggest baby we got and you look tougher than him”


“Sure”, he smiled. “Same wild hair… curly… I bet they wanted you to stop and cut it”

I felt I could trust this man, he understood I liked my hair, Fairchild always wanted to cut it. I don’t know why, something about ordinance. One kid got her hair cut and all she wanted was a bob. Having your hair cut is like shame, you feel angry, negative, bitter. It doesn’t feel right and a lot of girls go through it.

“I’ll put you with the Saints. Make them guard you from these

St. Vincent Eight sounds like a gang, I wondered. The gang I had was Canon Crucifix, we changed the name so much. Kiss Kiss was a stupid name then there was Leather Skins (I have no idea where that came from) but we were young, I was actually nine when that started and fourteen when V got stomped on. The playground was battle ground, we eventually started calling it The Ground.

These St. Vincents had a nice block, the hall reminded me of a school with the lockers. I looked at the crazy stuff on the walls, paintings, crudely drawn and….. oil. “Oil?”

“Greasers love their cars, especially Tony”

“Tony?”, I questioned. “Oh he’s a boy with a gun, nothing dangerous, also a blade”, he said rather harried as he shoved me in and the pitch black room. “Have fun, and play nice kids”

I was in a bind, I’ve just been transferred to second grade and I’m pretty sure I’ve been sent to die.

Nothing freaked me out more when I saw four glowing eyes in the corner, followed by sharp teeth, pearly white to. “Ey, Daddy-O….”

The Warren had shut me in, I was there with my back against the wall. “Ain’t yous a looker, pumpkin”

Why me? All I do is draw on walls and that accent is real cute. “Why haven’t you morons turned on the lights? She’s practically glowing pink, she’s so shy”

Oh yeah, that happens. I’m a damn mood ring. “You can see me?”

I put my hand up against the walls, leaving a green print. Of course it just pops off like a sticker and crawls on the floor.

“Ah!”, one boy shrieked. “Sinner!”

The lights came on revealing their faces. “Ow, Apollo get off me!”

“What is that!”

“Stupid eight year olds, please tell me your older”, said the  male with the bright blues.

“My real age or classified age?”

Apollo, as he was called, was clung to the boy by the arm. Scared of the moving hand. I wish i could tell him it was safe. “I’m seventeen”

“Your just two years old?”, he gasped. “I guess that beats the four year old in the corner–Apollo get off!”

“What is that?!”, he shouted. “It wants my leg!”

“Is he ok?”, I asked.

“Eh….”, Apollo twirled him around as it began to follow his every move. “Hey, sinner, what is that?”

I draw on everything I touch, leaving my mark where ever I go. “Imprint”

“Imagination levels run high. I’m not the creative guy myself, car kinda boy–Apollo stop!”, he yelled.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Apollo had a big pompadour, blues, and dirtied up tank top. “It doesn’t do anything. It’ll stain you if it touches”

“Great”, he said as he pushed Apollo away. “I’m Maggiore… hi”

“Bishop… hi…”

Maggiore? That’s a unique name. “Call me maggie if you want”, he said, he was so pink. I could see his colors, shy, a bit mean spirited, loving and green for the spirit. He even has red on his back. It’s bruised though.

Bruised ones have usually been beaten to obey, I’m not really bruised but I have my scars from when mahe beat me with an extension cord. Ow, my back hurts thinking about it.

“Apollo is my brother… monkey on my back. The klutz is Rook, or Rookie–”

“Don’t introduce me. I can speak words too, greasy”

“no spik Ingles… sorry”

“I hate you…” Rook grunted. He looked my way, his hair falling in front of his face just partially showing off the scar on his lip. “You got my weird eyes”, he said, I didn’t catch it at was first. “What’s your name?”

He was giving off pink and a foggy blue. “Bishop…”, I answered. “Bishop Childs”

He got up from the car bed excitedly. “Bishop?”



“Yes… that’s… what I said”

“Like Omni?”, a grinned stretched across his face. “Who’s Omni?”

“Oh thank God she doesn’t know”, Maggie threw his hands up. “Rook, that’s your seventh time man, let it go”

He looked so defeated. “I just…. I thought…”

“That ain’t none of your kin Rook”, said Maggie.

He groaned before sitting back down on the bed. It had me concerned, “something wrong?”, I couldn’t help but ask, Apollo looked at me and shook his head, I guess it wasn’t the best question at the moment. “So…. why they send a girl over here?”, Maggie asked. “This is a boy’s playground”

“Ms. Sweet always said I looked like a hood”

“A hood?”, Maggie jumped up and threw a smile before chuckling madly. “A hood!?”

I felt a sting from that. “What’s the problem?”

“Do you even know what a hood is? You dress like a kinder and you still wear bows”

“I look adorable!”, I defeated. “You look like a mechanic!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Most girls like the grease look. Hard working man and all”

“How old even are you!”

He tapped his finger on his chin. “Let’s see. You’re seventeen, that makes you two years old. Rook is four years old, being 19—”

“18…” Rook corrected. “If she’s steventeen then she’s a baby. Apollo, who’s eight, but realistically 22”

Twenty two? Apollo looked young in the face, I was at least expecting a boy less rough looking. “Big whoop!”, he said. “So we’re the oldest”

“Well, there’s Vincent and…”, Maggie stopped himself. “Yep”

“Is Vincent the name of your gang–”

“It’s not a gang!”, Rook yelled, he flashed red and it made flinch. “We were never trying to start a gang. Never”

I wasn’t making myself very welcome, everything I seemed to say was coming out wrong but Apollo knew what I was feeling. “It’s ok!”, he smiled. “Let’s go out to the playground, sinner”

“It’s Bishop”, I corrected.

Magically disabled, I don’t feel disabled. What’s abled magic anyhow? Maybe it has to do with the way my drawings come off everything I touch. I drew a dog on the ground. My inked hand dipped onto the concrete, I made it look really evil. He growled for a minute until I drew a cookie.

Kindergarten… what a place. A prison. A rehab. Whatever you call it is how you see it I guess. It’s literally a huge carnival, giant swings, giant rides, giant slide, everything is just so damn big.

“Hey… It’s the chick”, I looked up from my art. It was big bright green eyed ghoul from the lunchroom. He must of been way older. Face pierced and tattoos. “Hi…”, I said shyly. He bent a knee down to my level. “No need to be shy. Hey… I’m sorry about poking you in the lunchroom”

“It’s fine”

“You forgive me? Oh! Wanna… I dunno… split a cookie–”

“Oh no you don’t cookie cutter!”, Maggie’s accent rung in my ear, startled me a bit. He ran up to me, putting himself between me and him. “Damn Maggie Pie”

“Don’t you Maggie Pie me!”

“So she’s your bully now? You sure love baby sitting”, he said. “Where’s big bad Tony?”

“Tony ain’t here troia”

Such a bad mouth…” the boy frowned as he walked away. I looked at Maggie flashing lines of red color, “Maggie”

He looked down at me as I uttered his name. “You wanna draw?”

He smirked, ruffled my curls, taking a crayon that had been tangled in them. “Sure…. you can show me how you do that thing you do”


Posted on April 26, 2015, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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