Just a quick couple of notes before we get into the next chapter (sorry!) - first, I should have placed a disclaimer at the front of the first chapter - Cory, Topanga, Eric, Jason, Shawn, Amy, Alan, Jonathan, Eli, George, Morgan, Harley, Frankie, Joey, Chubby, Bertha and the Matthews sofa do not belong to me. They are Michael Jacobs and his crew. I'm just borrowing them cos Boy Meets World is finished and I think we need more! I'll put them back when I'm done (and maybe in the mean time they can have a little fun, eh?)
And secondly - I do not live in the US, so any inconsistencies (eg. I have no idea if lunch is after third period) please excuse!
Thanks,
Lacey :)
Now back to the story...
JOHN ADAMS' CAFETERIA AT LUNCH
Eric took his plate of mushy cafeteria food, and seated himself at the table his friend Jason was already at.
"So, Eric, are the pills working," Jason asked with a doubtful look.
"Yes, actually, Jason, they are. This morning I knew what Mom was going to serve me for breakfast even before I got downstairs!"
"It's Wednesday, your Mom always makes pancakes! Even I know that!"
"Yeah, but she could've made something else, and she didn't, because I knew! I can see the future!"
"Well then," Jason said sceptically, "Tell me what will happen if..." Jason looked around the cafeteria, his eyes settling on Debbie Winters, one of the more popular seniors in school. "I go and ask Debbie Winters out right now!"
"Sorry, bud, she's gonna shoot you down," Eric replied in a knowing voice.
"We'll just see about that!" Jason got up, walking as coolly as he could up to Debbie's table where she sat with the rest of her popular friends, only tripping over one chair on the way, and spoke a few words with her. Dejectedly, he then came back to Eric.
"You were right, man. You are psychic!"
AT ANOTHER TABLE...
"Oh my lord! Quick, Shawn, there goes Pamela Anderson!" Cory suddenly announced, leaping up and pointing over Shawn's shoulder.
"What? Where?" Shawn turned eagerly, only to see Coach Naylor walk by. "Yeah, ha ha, very funny Cory. Jeez, that was lame, can't you do any better than that?"
"Just you wait, my friend, that was only the beginning! I, Cory Matthews, will not be made a fool of!"
"Whatever, man, it was just a joke, let it go!"
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!!" Topanga gasped, rushing up to their table.
"What is it?" Cory asked, forgetting all about the pranks for the moment.
"I went to rent Hamlet from the video store, and they're all out - not due back to Saturday. Saturday! Saturday is too late! DOES NOBODY IN THIS CITY APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT WE HAVE A TEST ON FRIDAY?!"
Now the entire cafeteria was gawking at Topanga, and she was looking a right wreck, eyes ablaze, hair looking like she's just been caught in a tornado, and her shirt half tucked into her pants, one shoelace untied.
"Now, now, Topy, that was just one store, somewhere else will have..."
"I tried them all from here to Manhattan - they're all booked!"
"Manhattan?" Shawn exclaimed. "How..."
"Shawn," Cory hissed, "Who cares? Do you not see the potential psycho in front of us?"
"Sorry."
"Is that chocolate?" Topanga demanded, fixating on Shawn's desert - chocolate cake, with grabbing him by the collar with both hands and pulling him forward.
"Yes," Shawn squeaked.
"I need chocolate! Chocolate will save me from this test! Chocolate cures anything!" Topanga was now physically shaking Shawn, her eyes bulging.
"Well then," Shawn said, panic stricken, "By all means - take it, take it!"
Topanga grabbed the cake, and then, looking at Cory and Shawn like a starving dog, ran off with the desert.
Shawn then picked up his plastic fork and took a bite of what the lunchroom lady, Bertha, had assured them was macaroni cheese. His face suddenly turned bright red, and gasping he grabbed his carton of juice and downed it in one gulp. Cory suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, and then catching a glimpse of Shawn's angry face, took off in the same direction as Topanga.
THE MATTHEWS HOUSE THAT EVENING
"Hey, Cory, Little Bro, phone for you," Eric said to his younger brother, walking into the living room where Cory sat watching TV.
"Thanks, Eric," Cory replied, catching the cordless as Eric tossed it at him.
"I knew you were going to catch that!" Eric announced, a smile of glee on his face.
"Yeah, whatever," Cory said, then placing the phone to his ear, "Hello?"
"Cory Matthews?" a strange sounding voice asked from the other end of the line.
"Speaking."
"You have won an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas!"
"I have! Oh wow!" Cory started to perform a dance on the Matthews' sofa.
Then laughter escaped from the telephone. "Ha, Cory, I got you good! I got you sooo good!" The voice seemed to echo, and the next minute Shawn was standing in the doorway, cellular phone to his ear.
Cory's face froze in confusion, then he suddenly understood. "Shawn Hunter! This is not the last of this! Mark my words - you will pay! Yes, my friend, you have not seen the last of me!"
THE NEXT DAY (WEDNESDAY)
JOHN ADAMS HIGH
2ND PERIOD - JOURNALISM
Eric sat back lazily in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him. He let out a loud yawn. His classmates were all busily scrawling notes as Mr Williams wrote them on the blackboard.
Mr Williams glanced over his shoulder at the noise, only to find Eric preparing for a midmorning siesta, instead of the test the next day.
"Mr Matthews, is there any reason while you consider yourself exempt from partaking in this exciting hour of note taking?" Mr Williams asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"No need, Mr Williams. I'm going to ace your test tomorrow."
"How? I haven't even written it ye..." the Media Studies teacher glanced around the glance at the sound of groans escaping the students who had hoped all they would need was today's notes to pass.
"I can see the questions," Eric said, matter-of-factly.
Mr Williams looked over at the blackboard again, and then back, confused. "Where?"
"I can see the future."
"Well, great, why don't you tell me the questions and save me the effort and then we'll both be happy?" Mr Williams rolled his eyes.
"You'll see - all I have to do is find the answers and memorize them!"
Williams looked from Eric to the full blackboard and then back to Eric's empty desk.
"And how do you plan to do that with no notes, Mr Matthews?"
Eric looked down and groaned. He picked up a pen and began to furiously copy the scribble on the board.
And secondly - I do not live in the US, so any inconsistencies (eg. I have no idea if lunch is after third period) please excuse!
Thanks,
Lacey :)
Now back to the story...
JOHN ADAMS' CAFETERIA AT LUNCH
Eric took his plate of mushy cafeteria food, and seated himself at the table his friend Jason was already at.
"So, Eric, are the pills working," Jason asked with a doubtful look.
"Yes, actually, Jason, they are. This morning I knew what Mom was going to serve me for breakfast even before I got downstairs!"
"It's Wednesday, your Mom always makes pancakes! Even I know that!"
"Yeah, but she could've made something else, and she didn't, because I knew! I can see the future!"
"Well then," Jason said sceptically, "Tell me what will happen if..." Jason looked around the cafeteria, his eyes settling on Debbie Winters, one of the more popular seniors in school. "I go and ask Debbie Winters out right now!"
"Sorry, bud, she's gonna shoot you down," Eric replied in a knowing voice.
"We'll just see about that!" Jason got up, walking as coolly as he could up to Debbie's table where she sat with the rest of her popular friends, only tripping over one chair on the way, and spoke a few words with her. Dejectedly, he then came back to Eric.
"You were right, man. You are psychic!"
AT ANOTHER TABLE...
"Oh my lord! Quick, Shawn, there goes Pamela Anderson!" Cory suddenly announced, leaping up and pointing over Shawn's shoulder.
"What? Where?" Shawn turned eagerly, only to see Coach Naylor walk by. "Yeah, ha ha, very funny Cory. Jeez, that was lame, can't you do any better than that?"
"Just you wait, my friend, that was only the beginning! I, Cory Matthews, will not be made a fool of!"
"Whatever, man, it was just a joke, let it go!"
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!!" Topanga gasped, rushing up to their table.
"What is it?" Cory asked, forgetting all about the pranks for the moment.
"I went to rent Hamlet from the video store, and they're all out - not due back to Saturday. Saturday! Saturday is too late! DOES NOBODY IN THIS CITY APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT WE HAVE A TEST ON FRIDAY?!"
Now the entire cafeteria was gawking at Topanga, and she was looking a right wreck, eyes ablaze, hair looking like she's just been caught in a tornado, and her shirt half tucked into her pants, one shoelace untied.
"Now, now, Topy, that was just one store, somewhere else will have..."
"I tried them all from here to Manhattan - they're all booked!"
"Manhattan?" Shawn exclaimed. "How..."
"Shawn," Cory hissed, "Who cares? Do you not see the potential psycho in front of us?"
"Sorry."
"Is that chocolate?" Topanga demanded, fixating on Shawn's desert - chocolate cake, with grabbing him by the collar with both hands and pulling him forward.
"Yes," Shawn squeaked.
"I need chocolate! Chocolate will save me from this test! Chocolate cures anything!" Topanga was now physically shaking Shawn, her eyes bulging.
"Well then," Shawn said, panic stricken, "By all means - take it, take it!"
Topanga grabbed the cake, and then, looking at Cory and Shawn like a starving dog, ran off with the desert.
Shawn then picked up his plastic fork and took a bite of what the lunchroom lady, Bertha, had assured them was macaroni cheese. His face suddenly turned bright red, and gasping he grabbed his carton of juice and downed it in one gulp. Cory suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, and then catching a glimpse of Shawn's angry face, took off in the same direction as Topanga.
THE MATTHEWS HOUSE THAT EVENING
"Hey, Cory, Little Bro, phone for you," Eric said to his younger brother, walking into the living room where Cory sat watching TV.
"Thanks, Eric," Cory replied, catching the cordless as Eric tossed it at him.
"I knew you were going to catch that!" Eric announced, a smile of glee on his face.
"Yeah, whatever," Cory said, then placing the phone to his ear, "Hello?"
"Cory Matthews?" a strange sounding voice asked from the other end of the line.
"Speaking."
"You have won an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas!"
"I have! Oh wow!" Cory started to perform a dance on the Matthews' sofa.
Then laughter escaped from the telephone. "Ha, Cory, I got you good! I got you sooo good!" The voice seemed to echo, and the next minute Shawn was standing in the doorway, cellular phone to his ear.
Cory's face froze in confusion, then he suddenly understood. "Shawn Hunter! This is not the last of this! Mark my words - you will pay! Yes, my friend, you have not seen the last of me!"
THE NEXT DAY (WEDNESDAY)
JOHN ADAMS HIGH
2ND PERIOD - JOURNALISM
Eric sat back lazily in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him. He let out a loud yawn. His classmates were all busily scrawling notes as Mr Williams wrote them on the blackboard.
Mr Williams glanced over his shoulder at the noise, only to find Eric preparing for a midmorning siesta, instead of the test the next day.
"Mr Matthews, is there any reason while you consider yourself exempt from partaking in this exciting hour of note taking?" Mr Williams asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"No need, Mr Williams. I'm going to ace your test tomorrow."
"How? I haven't even written it ye..." the Media Studies teacher glanced around the glance at the sound of groans escaping the students who had hoped all they would need was today's notes to pass.
"I can see the questions," Eric said, matter-of-factly.
Mr Williams looked over at the blackboard again, and then back, confused. "Where?"
"I can see the future."
"Well, great, why don't you tell me the questions and save me the effort and then we'll both be happy?" Mr Williams rolled his eyes.
"You'll see - all I have to do is find the answers and memorize them!"
Williams looked from Eric to the full blackboard and then back to Eric's empty desk.
"And how do you plan to do that with no notes, Mr Matthews?"
Eric looked down and groaned. He picked up a pen and began to furiously copy the scribble on the board.