So as I was saying earlier, ACH was actually pretty bomb.

Literally.

Yesterday, we made bombs with enough power to blow up a small building using only using axe, dental floss, and a chemical that cannot be named here because it is still under development with the CIA…and I'm pretty sure you don't have enough clearance to hear about it.

No offense.

Because of the dramas of yesterday (apparently, Dr. Steve was "upset" about the fact that he now has no laboratory, but was pleased with the "excellent" expansion of our "excellent" young minds and was glad that we learned such "excellent" curriculum), today, we would be doing poisons and antidotes, instead.

Because those were a little less explosive.

So we had to partner up (mine…sadly enough… was Grant).

One would make the poison.

…and then the other would have to make the antidote…

Let's just say I chose the wrong partner.

Grant would be making the poison.

So then I would be making the thing that would save our lives. (Thank God.)

Dr. Steve (the shakiest teacher of them all) passed out the chemicals we needed to make the poison and antidote concoctions.

Since he was our shakiest teacher, you're probably wondering why he's dealing with poisons ('cause if you saw the affect of this stuff, you would definitely be wondering, too), but trust me, Ach is probably one of our safest classes.

So while I was picking up numerous test tubes and pouring in small amounts of one thing, then a little more of another, then pouring some out, Grant was still trying to figure out how to open the bottle that read: CAUTION: DO NOT OPEN UNLESS INVISED with a pair of scissors that would probably put most preschoolers safety scissors to shame.

"Grant," I started.

"What?" he replied, "This bottle is being mean to me! Dammed thing won't open!" he almost yelled.

"Chill, man!" I responded, "Just screw off the freaking lid and stop trying to decapitate it with your scissors, Grant!"

"Oh…..gotcha…no wonder you're in advanced placement," he stated, "Thank you, Zachie."

"We're all in advanced placement, Grant."

"Really? No way."

Maybe I wouldn't give Grant the antidote after he poisoned himself.

I didn't even respond. Just banged my head on the table, then leaned back and said, "And don't call me Zachie."

"What?" he asked, clearly offended, "So Cammie can call you Zachie, but I can't? What happened to equal treatment?"

"What happened to not acting like your gay for your best friend?"

"Oh, I'm not gay, Zachie. I just love you."

"Oh yeah, and what if I started calling your little Bexy the British Bombshell? How would you fell about that?"

"Stop it! Don't talk about my Sexy Bexy like that!"

"Mhmm. That's what I thought."

"Um, Zach, how much poison do I put in?"

"You don't put in any poison, Grant. You just mix all the stuff together and then it becomes poison."

"Oh…that would explain a lot."

I didn't wanna know.

So here's how the whole poison and antidote thing worked:

Grant would poison me and about a few seconds before I was about to die, he'd shove some antidote down my throat.

And then I'd get to do the same thing to him…

This would be interesting.

Our teacher would then also grade us on the effectiveness of the poison, the effectiveness of the antidote, how well we worked together as a team, how much pain we caused each other, and our tolerance of how much we suffered…

He pretty much based this off of how much we screamed… (or didn't scream)

And, I have to say…this next part was pretty ghastly…so…lets just say…we aced the class and (luckily enough) we all survived.

(A/N: REVIEW! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! did you like it? goode? bad? tell me your thoughts! any ideas you want to give me? suggestions? random comments? reveiw or PM me! and also tell me what your favorite ice cream is...mine is mint chip! :D)