Regina scowled internally at the idiocy of her math teachers.
He'd written the formula incorrectly, which he does often.
If he hadn't hated her mother, she'd correct him without hesitance.
Alas, he does, and in an association, he hates Regina.
Her classmates are oblivious to the mistake, hurriedly copying the equation.
She knew this would be on the test.
If she got the question pertaining this formula correctly and they didn't, she'd be more tormented than usual.
She raises her hand, cringing internally at the groans, and waits for him to notice.
When he does, an annoyance crosses his face, "Yes, Regina?"
"You wrote the formula wrong, sir."
Even though he hated her, her mother had taught her to be polite to authority.
His head snaps back to the board. The class waits in anticipation as he studies his work.
He turns his attention to the class, addressing them, "It won't be on the test anyway."
Her period continues as usual aside from the ongoing glares.
When the bell rings, she quietly gathers her belongs and scurries past leering classmates.
The library had been closed for the week so her usual study stop was gone.
She decides to head for the school bleacher, uneager to go to the school bathrooms or even worse, the cafeteria.
She finds a seat near the middle of the bleachers.
Sometime during her study, she glances up.
A smile overtakes her as she notices a soon-to-be football player dancing in the end zone.
Normally, she'd scoffed at egotistic nature, but the dance seemed too goofy and exaggerated.
She watches as the player bolts down the field, arms spread like mimicking an airplane.
Her study material forgotten, she laughs at the ridiculousness.
After the player does something particularly silly, she lets out a loud laugh before glancing down in embarrassment.
When she peeks at the player again, she finds the player waving at her, rubbing their neck in an almost sheepish manner. She returns the wave shyly after she debates whether are not to leave.
She stays put.
The practice continues with the player gaining confidence by her audience.
It's strange to have someone perform a silly gesture to get her to smile which they succeed in.
Eventually, her free period is over and she has to hurry to her next class.
As she does, she's oblivious to the eyes trailing after her.
The rest of her class periods are more tolerable than usual. She has a sneaking suspicion it was because of a mystery player. Her mood had been considerable happy as she put her books in her locker.
The school day was over.
She had gotten an A+ on a science test which will please her mother. At the thought, she allowed herself another. Her mother might even give her a moment of peace which in itself was wishful thinking.
The school hallway was practically empty with only a few stranglers so she let herself space out.
It was a mistake.
Her locker slammed, almost catching her fingers in the motion. A group of cheerleaders surrounded her, efficiently trapping her from leaving.
"Blue, Cruella, " her eyes flicker to each as she greets them, "Mary Margaret."
The latter ignores her gaze, unlike the two smug girls.
"Regina-"
Cruella drawls out her name with a cruel tone."
She's silenced by a glare from Blue.
"We saw you eyeballing the new football player."
Even at the mention, she felt a slight blush overtake her.
"I don't-"
Her excuse is cut off by Cruella, "Oh shut it, Mills. You know exactly-."
"Cruella!"
Blue's snappish tone has Cruella clamping her mouth shut.
Blue returned her attention to her.
"Hear this, Regina, " the teen leans closer, "you'll never get anyone's attention, especially a jock's."
The girls walk away as tears begin to form in her eyes.
She hurriedly wiped her tears as she speed-walked out of the school. Her mother had insisted, or, well, ordered, her to have a driver.
As she climbed into the backseat, she greeted her driver with a smile.
The man started the car, glancing at his front mirror with curiosity, "Are you alright, ma'am."
She focused on the moving scenery, a sense of familiarity comforting her.
"I'm fine, Graham."
He nodded and after a beat, she adds, "Thank you."
A smile appeared on his face as he returned his attention to the road, "Your welcome, madam."
The drive is pleasant enough for her emotions to sober up.
Her mother would be furious if she shall any tears (or emotion), especially in front of the help. She cringed internally at the term her mother was so prone to using.
"Regina dear!"
Her mother's beckoning voice called her as soon as she entered their manor.
She resisted a sigh, attempting to find her voice, "Yes, Mother?"
The day could only get worse.