Katrina Greene rested her head against her chemistry notebook with a resigned sigh. She hated chemistry with a burning passion. Despised it, even. It wasn't necessarily the science's fault. In fact, she loved science. Especially chemistry. It was, however, the teacher. She would just space out during her lectures, and was highly (dare I say) forgetful. Said teacher, Mrs. Speilsburgh, was currently at the lab benches, mixing acids. Without any protection.
No, not the drug acid. If you think that they'd allow teachers to so much as touch drugs in school, then you are a severe nincompoop. Honestly.
Hydrochloric acid of 60% proof, lemon juice, and vinegar were all getting mixed into a highly volatile container. She took a stand. "Mrs. Speilsburgh," she called out to the lady, who in turn gasped and jumped slightly in surprise before looking at her.
"I understand that it is not my place to criticize you, Madam, but I really think that you should at least have some eye protection and gloves if you are to mix acids. It would be a shame if you got hurt." She said to her, putting on her own pair of goggles and gloves before grabbing some. Taking them over to the squirrelly, gray-haired lady, she smiled.
"A-ah! Th-thank you Miss… What was your name again?" She asked, setting the container down in a less than cautious way as she wracked her mind. That was another thing that Katrina disliked about Mrs. Laura Speilsburgh; she had early onset alzheimer's. It truly was a shame. She has such a brilliant mind. She is kind and polite as well. It is also a wonder that she has not been fired yet. Katrina twitched back as some liquid rose up slightly.
"Greene. Katrina Greene. We went over this, Mrs. Speilsburgh. I apologize if I sound rude, but have you taken your medication today?" Katrina asked, putting the goggles over the teacher's coke-bottle glasses and snapping the string behind her head. She then carefully put the gloves on the lady, removing her rings and putting them on the furthest spot from their lab bench.
"Medication?" The pale, wrinkled lady asked, tilting her head slightly.
Katrina sighed, pushing a stray hair from her face, allowing her light brunette tresses to gather up in a more tamed bang rather than the sty of a mess that it was. Toying with her waist-length braid, she contemplated on what to say. "You should go home, Ma'am. Talk to your husband. I will cover for you. I'll just tell them that you got sick, is all. Besides, this is last period." She said, smiling. While she liked the teacher, she couldn't allow this to carry on. At this rate, she'd endanger someone's life.
Laura Speilsburgh nodded, packing her things and leaving without so much as a peep. It was a pitiful thing to watch, but it was for the best. Katherine walked to the intercom slowly, pressing its button.
"Mrs. Speilsburgh has gotten sick, I am here to inform you that I will cover for the last five minutes of class as she takes care of herself," Katherine called into the machine. Hearing the secretary give the affirmative, Katherine sighed. "Everyone, please pack up. It is about time to go anyway." She said, pushing her bifocals up some so that she could peer out of them with ease. The class started lively chatter, already used to her commanding nature. But, it was necessary. Katherine knew Mrs. Laura Speilsurgh before the alzheimers. In fact, Mrs. Speilsburgh used to babysit her. But now, there is no memory of her in the lady's life except for the odd occasion in which rarely ever happens.
The class was used to this. They were used to her taking over for this teacher. Hell, if the school could fire Mrs. Speilsburgh and hire someone else, they would. But the school is poor, very much so, and it was nearly impossible for them to do so because of not only this reason but also the school's reputation. Students have attacked teachers many times here, and it was getting tiring with the amount of them quitting.
Yes, tiring.
Everything was tiring. Katrina was tired of the fights in the hallways, she was tired of the bullies picking on her, and most of all, she was tired of feeling so purposeless.
Yes, purposeless.
The fifteen-year-old brunette sighed and packed up her stuff, preparing to take her leave. It had been a long day. One of those days where you just want to lay down and sleep.
Unfortunately for her, she has a far longer day than anticipated, ahead of her.