The StarKids Academy

4| Visit To Hell

Ever felt the need to dig a hole, bury yourself in it and never come up ever again. I can bet almost all of us feel it at least once in our life. It is inevitable and it only happens when we haven't expected it the least. The fact only makes it even uglier and intolerable.

It is one of those bumpy rides in the fair that will almost blow you up and charge up to your whole meal. How can I be an exception? Even considering that it would be possible is foolishness. Whether I accept it or not, I am a fool.

God, why? Just, why do I have to be the one always? Why can't there be anyone else? I had applied for a bunch of jobs. All of them required different potential or experience and I was unsuitable for most of them. This one was included. When I was filling in the details, I knew I was shooting arrow in the dark. Then, how come I make it here and be rejected for all of the rest? Can anyone explain just, how? I still remember what I was thinking while applying for this?

Couldn't they have just rejected me? Threw my resume at my face and told me to get out right away so I wouldn't have to deal with any guilty conscience and the humiliation over and again? Why in the f*****g hell have I to be so unlucky all the time and invite trouble without even trying to?

Now, I know I am being absolute dramatic b***h and not taking up something that I need with the last bit of my life, but can you blame me? We have all been through High school s**t and know how ugly it gets.

I hated my school because I was simply a geeky nerd and many of them try to bully me until they all return with broken knuckles, slaps, or humiliated out of their witz. I used to lack social skills and I hated people in journal. Socially awkward, you bet I was? I still am and I still hate people which is why I hate this job. I'd rather work in a cubicle all by myself than stand on a platform and interact with bunch of horny teenagers.

I hardly mingled with anyone except for Pixie. Even with him, the 'wrath' was inevitable. How I am supposed to survive in this self-centered world is already beyond me surrounded by rich satans and their plastic bitches.

'How about I mess this up and screw myself up? This way, I wouldn't have to deal with this s**t and I will be out of this before I know it.' I consider the odds and almost shudder at the thoughts. It just sounded so like me, but it did not feel alright.

After wandering around whole of the year, I have finally gotten a decent job that can pay for my necessities. I cannot be a chicken who would rather stay in the shell of comfort than breaking past it.

What has gotten in my head? What is so wrong about the job that I am ready to get f****d up for nothing? Surely, being a guest faculty at twenty-two sucks. It isn't completely a dream job, but it isn't half as worse as the life I am currently living.

At least, I will get job security and plenty of food to eat without worrying about the next meal or the next after that. Not to forget the bank balance and respect from whoever had that I wouldn't make it. Who knows I might be able to change the lodging and get away from the trashy apartment of my Ex? The pay is handsome and guarantees that I will be living a good life. Not to forget the increments and portfolio built-ups.

'First time?' I hear someone asking. The voice is deep and husky. I am startled for good seconds, almost jump out of my seat but stay put when I realize that it wasn't I, Mr. Husky was talking to. The sexy blonde nods meekly, tucking her silky smooth hairs behind the ear as she replies in a soft and barely audible voice.

The reply is so hushed that even I, who is sitting some three seats away from her cannot hear it. Excuse me Ms. Blondie-hood, but we would be dealing with stuffed classrooms and tons of teenagers regularly? I would like to know how you would manage those monsters with this tenderness? They'd gallop you, chug you, swallow you before you know it.

The man smirks at the reply and whispers back. Gah! Flirty freak.

His expression resembles Pixie when he gets horny and wants to do some action in the night. Men will be men. Dude be like, what's wrong in trying and scoring some. If I can't get a job I can at least get some cunt.

I wonder what the asshole might be doing and most importantly where he would be? Would he be missing me or is he having the afternoon s*x in the MLFS bathtub and has already forgotten his broken girlfriend? Oh, how I wish I'd broken some of his bones so he'd be limping around in agony! That would have been satisfying for two reasons.

1) It would have been hilarious, served him right and the marks would be a permanent reminder for him to never mess with a woman.

2) I wouldn't be envisioning him grinding against a woman. Instead, I'd be seeing him in a hospital with purple eye and missing tooth.

I am capable of that really! In fact, I remember throwing a fat book at the punk, but he had successfully dodged and made a run for his life like his ass was on the fire. (which it actually was!)

When I found him pounding in Therese's cousin, I was furious and couldn't see or talk straight. I was raging beyond control and had instantly kicked him and his naked hoe out, not caring that it was middle of the night or early dawn and people could be ogling at their kiss-worthy asses. I just wanted to get rid of them and I did not care about anything else! Now I regret not making a fuss about it!

The morning when I retreated, the apartment was in the same state as I had left it. Same messy room with garbage and trash everywhere. It was still stinky with the odor of burnt sausages and soya chunks. The half-eaten sweet potato was in the same place as I had left while my laptop was still booting up. All and all, Pixie hadn't shown up when I was away. Had he, I would have known it better.

Again, I didn't want to live at his mercy when I had finally blown away our relationship and broken up with him. I have made a special emphasis on the fact by sleeping around with a completely random stranger. There is no way in hell I am getting back with him so there is no point in living in the same apartment as him and pretending that the other one didn't exist.

To take the next step, I need to find a new place to start over and for that, I need this job. So here I am at The StarKid's Academy, waiting for my turn amongst the twenty or something aspiring candidates—all of us competing for the same or different job titles. Neither of us is selected, but all of us pretend that it is 'I' who is getting it and the rest of 'them' are only wasting their time.

I keenly observe a couple of faces sitting across me. All of them appear rather young and experienced. It is common amongst the employees. None of them look a day older than thirty or thirty-five. Thirty-five could be the higher end while twenty-two could be the lower. I wonder why are they so focused upon hiring young faculty and if there is any policy in regards to that?

Shrugging at the thoughts, I look around the building. Built-in the ancient architectural style with red bricks and limestones, the building is beautiful and unique. The campus occupies around 9000 acres of land and is amongst the largest schools in the United States. (Yeah! I googled that out before coming in here! Geek? I know. I know.)

Currently, over 18000 students are enrolled there—all of whom have a special link with Hollywood or the fashion world. It only serves the elite and the architecture and amenities are designed keeping the same in mind.

The School is organized around three separate bases: The Juniors, The Sophomores, and The Seniors. I am applying for the Seniors and the most troublesome creatures to handle. There are around 40 academic departments at all levels which ensures the overall development of the fellows and has tie-ups with leading Universities and Institutions around the globe.

All bases are on the same campus along with student dorms, sports varsity, faculty quarters, in-house library, the Kids Shopping Center, The Research Park, and staff colony. It is divided and subdivided into individual segments.

Apart from that, the campus is up and at the face of modern development despite being founded and established in the late eighties. At first glance, the main building appears in line with a princess's castle from some Disney Fantasy.

'Ms. Skanda Bharti?' A woman in a small office skirt, tight formal shirt (which almost has her boobs spilling out), and even tighter smile calls for my attention, slapping me out of the thoughts.

Nervously, I look up at her to find her glaring at me. Presently, I am sitting on the placement campus of the Starkids Academy. The exclusive school I have signed up for which can be my passport of self-dependence.

Only this afternoon, I received a follow-up call from them. The first round of interviews was conducted on Google-Meet. I had to face a huge panel of seven interviewers. All of them had stern faces, curt voices, and crappy attitudes—iconic of mundane hirers. Nothing new!

They tried to be as intimidating as it was possible via the device, yet they were unsuccessful in breaking a tough nut like me down. The meet cost around forty minutes of my time, but it was worth it.

Me being my usual self who has gone through more interviews than they can conduct in a week have faced their stupidly hypothetical questions with ease. It appeared as if they were trying to test my base knowledge about the subject and if I was capable enough to teach which I, obviously, am.

Not trying to be too boastful or anything, but it is one of the ten fields I have some experience in. Also, I have been a straight-A student throughout my academic life. Handling some Calculus equations has to be a piece of cake. If it isn't, it has to be a major concern.

'Yeah?' I make a straight face as I ask the Ms. tight-shirt with a tilt of my head.

'You are next.' She replies sternly. 'Third room to the left! Keep your folder enact.' She nods in the direction and walks away without waiting for my response.

Pretty much, rude! I am used to all of it. It is identical throughout all job centers. Hardly a handful of them has genuinely good front-desk manpower. For the majority, you have to bear with the curt answers and roll of eyes. Maybe, they are trained to be a b***h.

Shaking it off with a nonchalant shrug, I collect my documents and references in a bunch and follow the tight shirt's instructions.

For now, we can only hope for the best!