Wow, it's been almost a whole term and I haven't written at all. Sorry. I had projects and stuff. But I'll update more regularly now, since it's not all stressful and getting lost on your way to Social Studies. Basically, expect a thousand word chapter on Friday, seeing as I feel bad about how little I've written and it's my birthday
Gilbert, leaving his final class of the week, as he had a field trip to a "local business" for "entrepreneurial advice", was met by a angry looking Antonio who was nursing a black eye.
"What on earth happened to you?" Gilbert exclaimed, "black eyes are so unawesome!"
"Arthur," Antonio snarled, "we were rehearsing a scene and he accidently dropped a baked clay apple right INTO MY EYE."
"Oh, that sucks," Gilbert said, nervous, "please don't eat me."
Antonio seemed to realise he was being a bit stupid, and calmed down.
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
That was when Francis rushed up, dressed in a blue polo. "GILBERT! I'm so sorry, mon ami! I... I... I wish this hadn't happened," he sobbed. His eyes were puffy. "Gilbert, do you forgive me?"
"What?" Antonio and Gilbert blurted at the same time.
"What?" Gilbert repeated.
"I urged you to sign up for History," Francis sniffed, "and now you're partners with that horrible Kirkland."
"Oh, yeah, that's not your fau-"
"Shush, here he comes," Antonio hissed. "I'll be round the corner- if you need me, whistle."
"Gilbert. Here's my room number. Come up at five and we'll each pick a bit to write about. Then we don't have to speak to each other," Arthur said, leaving before Gilbert could even protest about how five wasn't ideal (it was).
Antonio poked his head round.
"He gone?"
"Yep. He's gone."
"Well, you're screwed, amigo."
And that summed up Gilbert's feelings pretty exactly.