The rendition of the Ancient Mariner fell from the teachers lips, like a soundtrack from an old movie, as she blinked unaware of her predicament. There was a distant hum from the air conditioner, which buzzed overhead as Amy held a pen in between her naturally straight teeth. It tasted distinctly of fresh plastic, and her mouth was alive with the taste of the biro casing. That pen was only one of several to fall victim to the habit, gnawed into a mutated version of it's former self. Strong molars imprinting it, crunching, till its lid no longer slid onto the nib, but hung, sticky with saliva. It was nasty and as her green eyes inspected the remainder of the object with the inevitable disgust, her limbs slowly slid further into the uncomfortable plastic chair. The base of her back ached, but her eyes were still dancing back and forth. Attempting to uncover the last few mysteries before the class bell rang, that would reunite her with her best friend Karma.
Miss. Covert was still blissfully unaware that she was one of the most boring teachers in existence, as she continued to point out the moral values of the fictional narrator's piece. The problem was, everything about the teacher made her tiring to be around, never mind the part where you had to listen to her. The clothes she wore screamed washed out, while her hair screamed unwashed. Amy however, reserved judgement while her peers chuckled over the fact that Miss. Covert's desk picture was of an obese,tortoiseshell cat. After all, she had no reason to judge, when she was overjoyed at the idea of crawling under a duvet with Karma and watching as many Netflix movies as possible. That was what the weekend normally was like, just because they had returned after an extensive summer break consisting of the same thing, didn't mean anything would change. At the end of the day, nothing would change, and Miss. Covert was symbolic representation of that. As the older woman was in the same state, simply a different book. Amy had pretty much came to the conclusion that life was the same routine with minor changes. The only one change she could see at that moment was her age. Pulling her hand to her mouth, her teeth began to bite at the stubs considered nails. Slowly chewing away and discreetly placing them in her lap. Once they had become less than small circular stumps, her head hung back, a groan announcing her irritation on the slow, sounding ticking that counted down her moments left in class.
Breaking free from the musky classroom that was beginning to smell like a mixture of sweat and cheese, life never felt so relieving. The moment passed as quick as a gasp of fresh oxygen, and the bustle of the corridors onslaught commenced. The slamming of doors, the crowds of roaring students,all screaming with the ecstatic idea that the weekend was lingering in wait for them all to catch up. And boy did they run. Spiralling fast through the corridor like a wild hurricane. Amy shifted the tanned leather, more securely onto her shoulder avoiding a guy on a skateboard as he wheeled passed, head to foot in dark clothes. Out of danger, her green eyes looked around for Karma who had chosen Geography over the Literature Classroom. It was unusual for her not to be leaning against the far wall, an eyebrow raised in question at if; Amy was ready to take the journey home. Sometimes she even threw a packet of chips at her head, with a warm hearted smile. The unusual change to routine, elected an uncomfortable emotion in the tall girl's stomach. In the busy crowd, before she could decide a plan of action, a large jock slammed into her. Stumbling forward with flailing arms, she grasped onto a deep breath. As the sharp burn of pain subsided, while the muscular male ran past, most likely heading to the football field. After Amy recovered from the unexpected blow she set on a path to find her friend.
The problems with karma was her exaggerated perception on everything, just because no one knew either of their names—excluded the lunch lady Erma— meant that the school was run against decorum. That the unpopular stereotypes had become the hierarchy. It wasn't the case, the bullies were still the jocks, yet people knew you for your quirks more than your physical attributes. Not that either Karma, or herself, had a quirk to deliver to student society. Unless you consider the fantasies and the crazy plans they went on to satisfy Karma's need for adventure, while Amy was forever reluctant? She headed towards the Geography class rooms with her head slightly hung, worried that another large burly figure would collide with her. Instead she saw 'her', gawking at some boy who was leaning over sipping from a water fountain. Karma's pale hand was slammed over her mouth, keeping bile down as her nervous excitement made her stomach uneasy. Amy felt her skin prickle, her eyebrows lowered into a frown. The reason for Karma not turning up seemed unjust, it made her spring forward and grab a hold of the dark eyed girl. "Karma." Amy stated between a growl and a whine.
The air was crisp with a cool breeze, which required a jacket and alerted everyone that the end of summer was about to dawn.