Fifth Period- Lunch
Simon Hollows
a.k.a
The Bookworm
I am convinced that High School is a torture device created by bitter men and women in hopes of seeing teenagers suffer, to cause them to turn out to be homicidal maniacs or power hungry bastards.
I'm not bitter, really...well, I am but that's High School's fault.
I was sitting at my usual table, reading The Inferno for the hundredth time when I felt his approach. Oh, another year, another year.
"Hey Spe-Simon!" I looked up and flashed my "oh it's you how pleasant!" bullshit smile.
"Hello Joseph," I said, pushing up my glasses. "How was your summer?"
Joseph hooked his thumbs in his jeans and avoided making eye contact.
"Fine, fine hey so dude did you do the math homework last night?"
I kept my horribly fake smile plastered onto my face. Yes you bastard since I have no life I did inDEED do the homework!
"Yes do you need it?" I know I am a loser, but I have learned to accept it and so should you.
Joseph glanced up to make sure the Dean wasn't watching and abruptly shook his head yes. I sighed to myself as I took my homework out and stealthily handed it to him. He flashed me a quick, grateful smile and trotted away. I stared at his retreating back, watching him rejoin his friends- William, Sarah, Jonathon, Oscar and Morris. All of them popular.
It wasn't so much the popularity that I wanted- it was just the friends. I mean, they had people to talk to at lunch whereas I had half of a bologna sandwich and The Inferno. Yay. Can you feel the sarcasm?
I went back to reading and waiting, waiting for the bell to ring so I could go to Math...which means if I don't have my homework I'm screwed. Shit, he'll never finish copying it in time!
Damnit, I'm going to have to talk to him.
I got up from my table slowly, taking time to smash my brown paper bag and put my book away, hoping Joseph would come over in the meantime...of course it seemed he had forgotten about the homework and decided to amuse the table by randomly shouting strange words and sounds out.
Oh haha it's so funny. Dumbasses.
Oops that just slipped right out there.
Ahem.
"And ehhehehh we can do it because SHUTUPSHUTUP we will allllll sit DOWN!"
Oh yes, this was amusing.
The six idiots were slamming the table, laughing hard. Jonathon was laughing the hardest- he was always kissing up to Joseph and William.
I stood at the end of the table and cleared my throat loudly.
Nothing happened.
I shifted my backpack and coughed.
I think they may all be deaf.
I took off all my clothes, jumped on their table and began to dance.
All right, I didn't do THAT.
But I did "Accidentally" drop my 1000 page U.S. History book.
Unfortunately it landed on my foot.
"SHIT!" I yelled, bending forward. My foot holy mother of GOD OW OW OW!
Well, it got their attention.
"Are you all right?" Sarah asked, her voice dead.
"Oh yea!" I wheezed, my eyes filling with those tears that come with pain. "Happens all the time."
The table stared at me with the ever popular "We have to be nice to you because we're too lazy to do our homework" expressions etched on their faces.
Oh go die.
"Joseph, if you don't mind, may I have my homework back?" I awkwardly asked, straightening up.
"Dude, I haven't finished copying it yet," he said pleasantly.
"The bell is about to ring and I would appreciate it immensely if you would give me my homework back," I said, pushing my glasses up to the bridge of my nose.
"One sec." Joseph rummaged through his bag and pulled out a pen and grimy sheet of paper. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he began to copy, which was cue for the rest of the table to keep talking.
I stood there, shifting from foot to foot, holding my textbook self- consciously in my arms. Nobody looked at me or asked me to sit. Oh, this was fun...
Shoot me. I'll pay you.
Joseph had finally finished copying and was handing me back my homework when-
"And what is this?"
I flinched, my hand outstretched to grab the loose-leaf. Instead it was snatched from Joseph by a hand in back of me. I turned around to see the Dean, Mr. Wiesel, staring at the paper as though it held the magical instructions on how to lose weight without moving and only eating what you want when you want.
Shit.
"So, it's only the second day of school and already caught cheating Simon!"
Huh?
"What?" How the hell was I the one cheating?!
"You obviously plan on earning your grades this year by forcing Joe to do your homework!" Mr. Weisel looked very pleased with himself by reaching this conclusion.
"But I-"
"Do you know what this means?!" Mr. Weisel asked excitedly, waving the paper back and forth in a sort of insane frenzy.
And they say I have no life.
"Detention Hollows!!! Saturday Morning Detention for two months!"
"WHAT?" I yelled, my temper snapping. "But I didn't-"
"Three months!"
"What the-"
"Four months!"
"But-"
"FIVE!"
I finally got the point and shut up, just as the bell rang. Mr. Wiesel filled out a pink detention slip, grinning madly. Joseph and his friends gathered their books and quietly made their way past me, avoiding eye contact.
Mr. Weisel put the slip in my hand and walked away, practically skipping with glee.
He still had my homework.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Third Period- Lunch
Francis Jack Kelly-Sullivan
a.k.a
Cowboy
The "Bad" Boy
Yeah, I'm bad, I'll admit it. I just like doing dangerous things, livin' on the edge and all that. Maybe that explains why I lit the cigarette in the bathroom.
O.k, just hear me out before you judge me on this one. It seemed that the weather was just as pissed off at school starting as everybody else was. A.K.A it was raining. Hard. So we couldn't go out during lunch.
Do you see where I'm going with this here?
I NEEDED my friggin' cigarette!
I felt like there was a rabid monkey on my back pounding my head with his half-eaten speed-laced banana!
I'm not good without my cigarette.
So during lunch I casually slipped into the boy's bathroom, took out my trusty friend and lit.
Too bad I forgot about the fire alarm.
DING DING DING
You have to be kidding me.
DING DING DINNNNNG!
I tried getting rid of the cigarette, but...well, the toilet wasn't exactly flushable...
I waved my arms around in circles, trying to clear the air from the smell and turned-
Mr. Weisel, stood there, smiling his evil, cock-eyed smile. Oh hello.
"Hey Weeze," I said in my best "I don't care" voice, crossing my arms. The fire alarm was still ringing, I heard people screaming and running outside and the cigarette was still burning next to me on the floor.
Damn I felt dumb.
"So Francis-"
"Jack," I cut him off, still leaning in my best bad boy pose. "My name's Jack Mr. Weasel."
"I've told ya a million times, the name's Weisel, MISER Wisel," said Weeze, crossing his arms- still looking happy mind you.
"So FRANCIS, you were smoking inside the school building were you?"
"No," I said, my face straight.
The cigarette continued to burn.
His smile widened. "Five months Detention."
I shrugged. Like I had places to be after school...
"Saturday MORNING."
Oh helllll no.
My mouth dropped open and I uncrossed my arms.
"What are you...what did you WHAT?!"
"For smoking inside a no smoking zone and lying to your superior," Weeze said, almost giddy.
"You can't do this!" I yelled. JACKASS.
"Oh, can't I?" he asked, cackling evilly. "Keep arguing and we'll make it al year!"
I expected him to start skipping at any moment. Really, I did.
"DAMNIT Weeze!" I said, slapping the bathroom stall.
That just made Weasel laugh and leave the bathroom. I swear I saw him skip.
I kicked the bathroom stall, creating a dent in my boot and a blinding pain shooting up my leg, causing me to hop around the stall, lose my balance and fall into the toilet. I sighed in defeat. Least it couldn't get any worse.
Then the sprinklers went off.
* * * * * * * * * * Fourth Period- American Literature 1
Bryan P. Higgins
A.K.A
Racetrack
The Smartass
I hate fuckin' High School. I hate fuckin' people.
But most of all, I hate fuckin' TEACHERS
They stare at you with their all knowing bullshit attitudes and teach these things that you'll never need to know, make you write these essays about the meaning behind a friggin' poem written 100 years ago. Maybe there AIN'T no fucking reason! JESUS!
"Bryan? Bryan!"
I snapped out of dazed rant and raised my eyebrow at my American Literature teacher who, at the moment, had that oh to familiar "why aren't you locked on every word that I have just uttered from my holy mouth?!" face, which really didn't flatter her already ugly mug.
"Have you been listening to anything I have just said?" she asked, her voice probably trying to be intimidating.
Probably why she wasn't an actress.
Well, that and the fact that she looked like a horse.
"No," I answered calmly, cupping my chin in my hands.
Her eyes widened and made that "Oh no you DIDN'T" look.
"Well I simply cannot believe it. Bryan, how do you expect to pass this class if you don't pay attention when I am talking?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?"
I heard the class snicker, but kept my eyes locked on hers.
"Well I never I can't..."
Stutter stutter blah blah blahhhh
".how much do you want to bet you won't be passing this class?"
"Now you're talking my language Miss. Larksen. How about fifty bucks? Though I have to warn you, the odds aren't really bent in your favor."
The class snickered again and I could hear some people whispering now. Yeah, this was the only time they liked me, when I was being the smart dumbass.
Wow, an oxymoron! (told you the odds weren't in her favor)
"Bryan, I don't want a repeat of last year!"
"There won't be one if you don't talk to me," I said smoothly.
"Bryan, I am honestly getting very annoyed with you."
"Believe me ma'am, the feeling's mutual."
"Bryan!"
"Miss. Larksen!"
"Don't keep pushing me Bryan!"
"But I haven't touched you."
"Bryan!"
"I don't want to be charged with sexual assault Miss, that's why I told you."
"Bryan I am warning you..."
"Oh I'm shakin'!"
"THAT'S IT!" Miss Larksen threw the papers she was holding down, which just made the class laugh.
My work here was done.
"DETENTION!"
I shrugged. Not like THAT hadn't happened before...
"Saturday Morning!"
Always happens...
"For three months!"
NOT THAT.
"What the hell?!" Oh shit, did I say that out loud?
"Four months."
"Miss Larksen-"
"One more smart alec reply-"
"And you'll stop wearing pink?" Why the HELL did I say that?
"FIVE MONTHS!"
That finally shut me up. Five months of fucking Saturday Morning Detention?! WHAT THE FUCK?
"Bryan, what did I just say?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * Sixth Period- Math B
Mark Roberts
A.K.A
Skittery
The Moron
Dun Dun Dun DunnaDunnaDun Dun.
Perfect. That sounded awesome.
Too bad it was on a desk.
Didn't stop me from tapping my feet.
Wow, how strange was it that they were tapping out I hate school I hate school in perfect harmony? I think Mr. Vicinte realized it because he was staring at me with that annoyed math teacher look they're all required to learn before they can graduate math college or whatever they go to.
You think I'm stupid but I'm not/ You just won't give me a shot/ I don't need this shit/ Just wait til my first big hit/then you'll know me/then you'll want me/then you'll KNOW how good I am.
Pretty damn good.
"Mr. Roberts, please refrain from making anymore noise and try to listen to what I'm saying." I looked at Mr. Vicinte's aggravated face, still bobbing my head.
"Will you enlighten us with the answer?"
I shook my head no, tapping my pencil.
This stuff don't matter in the play of life/ Why should I care when there's somethin' else out there/ Just go away and leave me/ Go away and leave me with my knife.
I am on FIRE
Mr. Vicinte sighed exasperatedly. "Mr. Roberts, must I remind you that you're still a Junior because you failed math last term?
"Math, English and Spanish," I said, my face burning. He didn't have to remind me in front of the entire class. Jackass.
Mr. Vicinte shook his head and sighed. Again.
"Mr. Roberts, I don't want to see you back in this class next year."
My fingers started playing out Debussy's Clare de Lune on the rim of the desk as he continued with his "I'm only concerned for YOU" speech.
"Did you do the homework last night?"
I shook my head no, my fingers switching to Ragtime.
"Mr. Roberts, homework helps you comprehend what has..."
Dunna Dunna DunNa DunNA Dunna dunna DunNa DunNa Na bump bump Dunna Dunna DunNa DunNa Dunna dunna DunNa DunNa Na blink blink
"Therefore, until you start doing homework, you'll have Saturday Morning Detention every Saturday."
Bang.
My hands stopped moving as I stared at him, open-mouthed. He had to be kidding! I never do homework! I'll be going to Saturday Morning Detention until I'm forty! If I'm lucky...
Mr. Vicinte turned back to the board and began explaining something that I didn't pay attention to.
I looked around at the class. My peers were all glancing at me then looking away quickly. A variety of pity, curiosity and laughter filled their faced when they looked at me.
I just shrugged and pretended there was nothing wrong. I picked my pencil back up and started tapping out the theme to Friends.
I didn't stop when I saw Mr. Vicinte look over at me. Hey, this was why they called me Skittery.
* * * * * * * * * Sixth Period- American Literature 1
Davin Simmons
a.k.a
Dutchy
The New Boy
Do you know how much is SUCKS to transfer school in the middle of High School? I was a Junior but I felt like a freshman...worse than a Freshman because the Freshmen were bonding together, making friends in a school where they were alone whereas I was just...alone. With a bunch of people who had been friends with one another for two YEARS.
Oh, how I hated this school.
And on top of pessimistic thoughts I was LATE. Fifteen minutes late to English. With Miss. Larksen.
All I can say is not wonder why that woman's not married.
I finally found the room and dashed in, interrupting something. Miss. Larksen turned to face me, annoyance clearly shown on her multi colored face.
This wasn't going to be good.
"And just where have you been young man?" she asked, putting her hands o n her hips.
"I...I was just..."
"Trying to CUT were you?!" she yelled, her cheeks turning pink...or maybe her face was just reflecting off her dress...
"Wha...wha...no..." I stuttered some more, getting that embarrassed, burning feeling when you're being yelled at in front of a group of strangers.
You know that feeling?
"NOBODY CUTS MY CLASS!!!"
I jumped, not expecting to hear full out yelling. She came walking over to me until she was standing an inch away from my face.
"How dare YOU!" She screeched "you", causing me to jump again, only to trip forwards.
Good News: I didn't fall!
Bad News: Her breasts broke my fall.
And yes, they are real.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * Seventh-Eighth Periods- The Hallway
Bayard Conlon
a.k.a
Spot
The Tough Guy
When you have a name like Bayard, you sort of learn to be tough. Be tough or die, the pansy named kid's motto.
You also learn to accept the fact you have no friends from the constant beatings. And the nickname they give you. Spot. Cause I never miss my mark.
Fuck no.
Yeah, I was thinking all this as I sat in the boy's bathroom, cutting American Literature. Makes me sick. Interpreting things was never my style, you know? I'm not one for looking at the meaning behind words. What's there is there.
'Course I'm just saying that about words. Not people. Don't hold me accountable to THAT lie.
The bell rang and I got up and stretched. Astronomy. The only good thing about school. Besides Law.
Don't get me wrong. I'm sure High School is WONFERFUL- if you had friends.
And a normal name.
I blame my mother.
Listen, I ain't sappy all right? And besides, who the hell wants friends? They only let ya down.
I walked through the familiar hall, watching kids and teachers flinch and go out of their way to avoid me.
Laughable morons.
I was almost to Astronomy when I felt a tap from behind me. I turned around, putting my best "What?" expression on and almost choked.
Miss Larksen, the crazed American Literature teacher, was standing there looking all "argh". Oh shitttttt.
"Well Bayard, you know what I'm going to say."
"When and how long?" I asked, purposely making it sound the way you sick bastards read it.
"Five months, Saturday morning. Toodeeloo!" With that the bitch turned around on her pink heels and walked down the hall, leaving me to stare at her in disbelief.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
* * * * * *
Eighth Period- Shakespeare
Jacob Rivera
a.k.a
Snitch
The Thief
Life's a movie. So you act. All the time. It's the truth, even if you don't see it. Honestly, do you ever show your true self to the world, or do you have this personality you created that the world knows so they'll like you? Or hate you? Yeah you have, liar.
That's what I was thinking, glaring at my Shakespeare class. They all pretended to worship Shakespeare and all know everything about him and his plays when they can't even read ionic pentameter correctly. Most of them've only read Romeo and Juliet. Bastards.
Yeah I annoy easily and what?
Mr. Denton was talking away, trying to get these morons interested in the genius that is Shakespeare.
They knew NOTHING. It PISSES me off man!!
"...and I have your quizzes from yesterday..."
I perked up at that. Really? I thought I did well on that one. It was just a quiz he gave us to see if we read Othello, Much Ado About Nothing, A Midsummer's Night's Dream and A Comedy of Errors during the summer break. I LOVE those plays so I had practically memorized them SO I knew I got 100.
Listen, I'm not the best student when it comes to math, science, history, foreign languages and occasionally English, so doing well on something, actually being GOOD at something, is a thrill for me. That's why what happened next pissed me off so fucking much.
I got my wonderful 100 (probably the last one for a while), the bell rang and everybody got up to leave- I obviously being one of them.
I was halfway to the door when I heard Mr. Denton call my name. Confused, I walked to his desk, along with Ruth Smith, the prettiest, smartest, most popular untalented girl who ever walked these school halls.
Mr. Denton stared at us pointedly. Damn, his bow tie was giving me the creeps...I raised my eyebrows at him. It was last fucking period for the day and I had a date with my DVD player (I had just rented The Hours and Adaptation and was really just about bursting to watch them. Hey, that answers your question on why I'm so dumb! Partly...)
So anyway, Denton just sighed a few times and finally began to talk.
"I'm sorry that you have to be here Ruth, but this problem concerns you too." Seriously, what was the deal with the bow tie?
He looked straight at me, "disappointment" in his eyes. What the HELL did he think I did?
"Jacob, why did you cheat off Ruth's quiz paper?"
My mouth snapped open. "WHAT?"
Mr. Denton shook his head in an imitation of sorrow.
"You know what I am talking about Jacob. Now, I may be new here, but I know what grades you are usually capable of achieving besides the fact that I have been informed of a mishap which you were so unfortunatley a part of."
I felt my jaw tighten. I knew what he was talking about. Last year I was accused of stealing all this computer shit from the computer lab. They found all the crap in MY locker but I was FRAMED. They had no reason to believe me though, so I was suspended for a week (watched Spiderman, Edward Scissorhands, North by Northwest, Dead Poet's Society, Pulpfiction, Clerks, A Beautiful Mind, Jaws and Halloween 1-4 and Lord of the Rings).
So now I'm Snitch. The kid nobody believe because hey, who would believe a thief? I would.
Back to Denton.
"So what?!" I yelled at Denton. "Just because of something I DIDN'T DO last year? Just because you've heard my grades are sh-crap? Where does that show I cheated off Ruth?!"
Mr. Jackass remained unmoved. "Look, Jacob, the quiz required essay answers and you and Ruth have the exact same ones."
Denton took my paper from my hands and held up Ruth's. Sure enough, every answer was the same down to the last word.
SKANK WHORE!
"Therefore, I must give you detention." My eyes snapped away from the identical tests to look back at Denton.
"And I must insist you apologize to Ruth now."
My eyes slid to her pale face, her pretty red lips turned downward. I knew she had cheated off me. Her black eyes wouldn't meet mine.
"No," I hissed, throwing the word at her. "She should apologize to me!"
I grabbed my test back from Denton and walked out the door, my test clutched in my hand.
* * * * * * * * * * Period 8- Advanced Lab
David Jacobs
a.k.a
The Walking Mouth
"The Nerd"
Honestly, if people just spent a tad bit more time on their education than watching rubbish on TV they would be just as smart as me. And they wouldn't have to bother me.
I sighed as I mixed my carbon dioxide with my sodium glycerol, watching people follow sift out of the corner of my eye. I was tempted to mix it wrong which would cause the copier to get it wrong, causing a chain reaction throughout the entire class, one after another failing. But I didn't want purple skin.
My eyes snuck to the wall clock. Three minutes until freedom. Yes, I'll admit that I enjoy school much more than the average student, but the first few days after summer vacation are so monotonous. At least I didn't have physical education today as full schedule started tomorrow. That's when I'd be having torture everyday, ninth period. Weight room. The only subject I had trouble passing...
Believe me, I am not being conceited, but I am a genius. My IQ is 200 whereas normal is about 110.
Because I am talented in the field of learning, I am ignored by my jealous peers. It's a simple cause and effect concept.
I'm sorry, have I spoken too much? Well, I suppose that's why they call me the Walking Mouth.
I finished my experiment and had my Lab Report passed around the class for viewing with the five minutes to spare. I leaned forward on my Lab able and closed my eyes. There had been no sleep the night before due to an experiment I had been working on- I had lost track of the time and found it was 6:00, just in time for Fred to get me up.
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Hmmm, that cell phone ring sounded like mine.
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Why wasn't anybody picking up?
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Oh my GOD it was mine!
My eyes snapped open and I looked down at my bag, then to the teacher, Mr. Roosevelt, who look quite annoyed by the disruption.
He began to walk down the rows of tables, though he eyes were fixed on my bag. Oh no nononononononononono
He looked down at my bag, which hadn't terminated its endless ringing, and back at me, raising his eyebrows from behind his glasses.
"Your phone's ringing," he said and, before I could stop him, he reached into my bag and pulled out my cell phone, proceeding to press the "ok" button and saying "Hello?"
I don't own a high quality cell phone. In fact it's quite the opposite. Therefore, the entire class heard the following dialogue:
Dad: DAVEY? Davey sweetie, is that you?
Mr. Roosevelt: No, this is-
Dad: Listen Davey, your doctors appointment has been moved back an hour so you have time to go home, shower and remember to scrub your privates!!
Mr. Roosevelt: (laughter)
Dad: Oh Davey, don't laugh, remember what Dr. Jay said last time about you stinking to high heaven! I have to go now baby, Freddy's picking up organic pizza for dinner tonight, all right? Kiss Kiss!!
I felt my face burning and my body go hot. Everybody was outwardly laughing. I tweaked my nose a couple of times, trying not to look at anyone.
The bell rang and students rushed past, eager to rendezvous with their friends and gossip about what just happened.
My ears caught snatches of conversations:
"Ooooh Davey!"
"Stink to high heavens, wasn't that a laugh..."
"Was that his mom or his dad?"
"...sounded like a guy but said Fred..."
"...only child..."
I waited until all the students had left the room before daring to look up again. Mr. Roosevelt was staring at me, laugher hidden in his eyes. He pocketed my phone and leaned close to me.
"According to new rules of the school, put in effect by assistant- principal Snyder, any student who's cell phone goes off during the class has Saturday morning Detention starting immediately."
I was in shock. I had NEVER received detention before! That was for hooligans and intellectually challenged students!
"How long?" I choked out, tweaking my nose a couple more times.
"Five very long rings equal five months detention. Have a nice day Mr. Jacobs." He walked out the room, stopping only to pick up his briefcase, cane and put on the old-fashioned top hat he always wears. Then he was gone.
And so was my dignity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * Eighth Period- Art II
Peter Brooks
a.k.a
Kid Blink
The Disgruntled Artist
Art is LIFE! Well, my life anyway. That and swimming. Damn, I wanted to impress you guys, but now you all think I'm strange. Well I am the strange one-eyed artistic one.
Yes, I know why people don't hang out with me.
So many thoughts like that cross my mind as I paint. I get lost in the colors, the life that I am creating with my hands. If I could run through the streets screaming ART IS LIFE I would.
Which is one of the reasons I'm so unpopular.
Well, that and my one eye.
But that's beside the point.
I was still painting, lost in my world when the bell rang. I didn't hear it so I continued bringing my masterpiece to life by turning to get more blue paint. Turned to my blind side. Didn't see the chair.
To make a long story short, I wound up breaking twenty three jars of paint, three easels, all the linoleum blocks, all the plastic fruit and ruined somebody's' painting.
Oh wait, that would be mine
I'm not one for a lot of words so I'll spare you the details, but I got five month Saturday Morning Detention.
And a broken picture.
* * * * * * * * * * Seventh Period- Chemistry Lab
Bradley C. Meyers
a.k.a
Mush
The Shy Guy
I knew they shouldn't've let me near those chemicals. Noooo, they said "Bradley, you just need to build up your confidence, work in groups blah blah BLAH."
So it wasn't my fault! I warned them!
I was writing down the answer to my problem when I thought I smelled something burning
Just as though she read my thoughts, Sarah picked her head up and said "Something's burning."
I looked around the room. What morn would forget to turn off their Bunsen burner?
That would be me.
Right next to my arm, a piece of paper had caught fire and was beginning to spread to my lab mate's notebook.
Sarah let out a screech and knocked her chair over. The fire was spreading rapidly, but I froze- what could I do?
"MUSH!" I turned at my familiar "name" to see Sarah staring at me in panic. "DO SOMETHING!"
Of course that achieved nothing but more freezing.
The whole class was screaming now and the fire alarm went off for the second time that day.
I went into Broadway mind mode. What would Pippin do in a situation like this? Would he freeze? No! He would PUT OUT THE FIRE!
So I grabbed a cup of water that had just happened to be sitting on the teacher's desk and poured it over the fire.
Of course Sarah chose THEN to inform me that it was acid.
In the end the teacher came back into the room and extinguished it, but the damage was done. Pouring acid over a fire is never a good thing.
I was yelled at for about an hour, causing me to miss my Opera elective last period. I said nothing the entire time, mainly because I was scared, but I knew if I opened my mouth I would start crying. No, I didn't want that.
I sang The Jets Song from Westside Story in my head, trying to block out the anger. It sort of worked too...
In the end I got a call to my parents, one day in-house suspension, community service for a teacher (not science) an hour before and an hour after school and five months Saturday morning detention.
* * * * * * * *
END CHAPTER ONE
::dies::
I will NEVER write a chapter as long as that one EVER AGAIN...unless you liked it then I will. So, did you like it? Oh god, who made it to the end, it was song damn long...but anyway, I hope you people liked it ::crosses fingers and makes a face:: yes, it's going to be good, it is. I have confidence...::gets the song from the sound of music stuck in her head:: damnit! I have to stop talking now...ok, just read and review and tell me if I should continue. Bye.
-!-Alarice-!-
Simon Hollows
a.k.a
The Bookworm
I am convinced that High School is a torture device created by bitter men and women in hopes of seeing teenagers suffer, to cause them to turn out to be homicidal maniacs or power hungry bastards.
I'm not bitter, really...well, I am but that's High School's fault.
I was sitting at my usual table, reading The Inferno for the hundredth time when I felt his approach. Oh, another year, another year.
"Hey Spe-Simon!" I looked up and flashed my "oh it's you how pleasant!" bullshit smile.
"Hello Joseph," I said, pushing up my glasses. "How was your summer?"
Joseph hooked his thumbs in his jeans and avoided making eye contact.
"Fine, fine hey so dude did you do the math homework last night?"
I kept my horribly fake smile plastered onto my face. Yes you bastard since I have no life I did inDEED do the homework!
"Yes do you need it?" I know I am a loser, but I have learned to accept it and so should you.
Joseph glanced up to make sure the Dean wasn't watching and abruptly shook his head yes. I sighed to myself as I took my homework out and stealthily handed it to him. He flashed me a quick, grateful smile and trotted away. I stared at his retreating back, watching him rejoin his friends- William, Sarah, Jonathon, Oscar and Morris. All of them popular.
It wasn't so much the popularity that I wanted- it was just the friends. I mean, they had people to talk to at lunch whereas I had half of a bologna sandwich and The Inferno. Yay. Can you feel the sarcasm?
I went back to reading and waiting, waiting for the bell to ring so I could go to Math...which means if I don't have my homework I'm screwed. Shit, he'll never finish copying it in time!
Damnit, I'm going to have to talk to him.
I got up from my table slowly, taking time to smash my brown paper bag and put my book away, hoping Joseph would come over in the meantime...of course it seemed he had forgotten about the homework and decided to amuse the table by randomly shouting strange words and sounds out.
Oh haha it's so funny. Dumbasses.
Oops that just slipped right out there.
Ahem.
"And ehhehehh we can do it because SHUTUPSHUTUP we will allllll sit DOWN!"
Oh yes, this was amusing.
The six idiots were slamming the table, laughing hard. Jonathon was laughing the hardest- he was always kissing up to Joseph and William.
I stood at the end of the table and cleared my throat loudly.
Nothing happened.
I shifted my backpack and coughed.
I think they may all be deaf.
I took off all my clothes, jumped on their table and began to dance.
All right, I didn't do THAT.
But I did "Accidentally" drop my 1000 page U.S. History book.
Unfortunately it landed on my foot.
"SHIT!" I yelled, bending forward. My foot holy mother of GOD OW OW OW!
Well, it got their attention.
"Are you all right?" Sarah asked, her voice dead.
"Oh yea!" I wheezed, my eyes filling with those tears that come with pain. "Happens all the time."
The table stared at me with the ever popular "We have to be nice to you because we're too lazy to do our homework" expressions etched on their faces.
Oh go die.
"Joseph, if you don't mind, may I have my homework back?" I awkwardly asked, straightening up.
"Dude, I haven't finished copying it yet," he said pleasantly.
"The bell is about to ring and I would appreciate it immensely if you would give me my homework back," I said, pushing my glasses up to the bridge of my nose.
"One sec." Joseph rummaged through his bag and pulled out a pen and grimy sheet of paper. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he began to copy, which was cue for the rest of the table to keep talking.
I stood there, shifting from foot to foot, holding my textbook self- consciously in my arms. Nobody looked at me or asked me to sit. Oh, this was fun...
Shoot me. I'll pay you.
Joseph had finally finished copying and was handing me back my homework when-
"And what is this?"
I flinched, my hand outstretched to grab the loose-leaf. Instead it was snatched from Joseph by a hand in back of me. I turned around to see the Dean, Mr. Wiesel, staring at the paper as though it held the magical instructions on how to lose weight without moving and only eating what you want when you want.
Shit.
"So, it's only the second day of school and already caught cheating Simon!"
Huh?
"What?" How the hell was I the one cheating?!
"You obviously plan on earning your grades this year by forcing Joe to do your homework!" Mr. Weisel looked very pleased with himself by reaching this conclusion.
"But I-"
"Do you know what this means?!" Mr. Weisel asked excitedly, waving the paper back and forth in a sort of insane frenzy.
And they say I have no life.
"Detention Hollows!!! Saturday Morning Detention for two months!"
"WHAT?" I yelled, my temper snapping. "But I didn't-"
"Three months!"
"What the-"
"Four months!"
"But-"
"FIVE!"
I finally got the point and shut up, just as the bell rang. Mr. Wiesel filled out a pink detention slip, grinning madly. Joseph and his friends gathered their books and quietly made their way past me, avoiding eye contact.
Mr. Weisel put the slip in my hand and walked away, practically skipping with glee.
He still had my homework.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Third Period- Lunch
Francis Jack Kelly-Sullivan
a.k.a
Cowboy
The "Bad" Boy
Yeah, I'm bad, I'll admit it. I just like doing dangerous things, livin' on the edge and all that. Maybe that explains why I lit the cigarette in the bathroom.
O.k, just hear me out before you judge me on this one. It seemed that the weather was just as pissed off at school starting as everybody else was. A.K.A it was raining. Hard. So we couldn't go out during lunch.
Do you see where I'm going with this here?
I NEEDED my friggin' cigarette!
I felt like there was a rabid monkey on my back pounding my head with his half-eaten speed-laced banana!
I'm not good without my cigarette.
So during lunch I casually slipped into the boy's bathroom, took out my trusty friend and lit.
Too bad I forgot about the fire alarm.
DING DING DING
You have to be kidding me.
DING DING DINNNNNG!
I tried getting rid of the cigarette, but...well, the toilet wasn't exactly flushable...
I waved my arms around in circles, trying to clear the air from the smell and turned-
Mr. Weisel, stood there, smiling his evil, cock-eyed smile. Oh hello.
"Hey Weeze," I said in my best "I don't care" voice, crossing my arms. The fire alarm was still ringing, I heard people screaming and running outside and the cigarette was still burning next to me on the floor.
Damn I felt dumb.
"So Francis-"
"Jack," I cut him off, still leaning in my best bad boy pose. "My name's Jack Mr. Weasel."
"I've told ya a million times, the name's Weisel, MISER Wisel," said Weeze, crossing his arms- still looking happy mind you.
"So FRANCIS, you were smoking inside the school building were you?"
"No," I said, my face straight.
The cigarette continued to burn.
His smile widened. "Five months Detention."
I shrugged. Like I had places to be after school...
"Saturday MORNING."
Oh helllll no.
My mouth dropped open and I uncrossed my arms.
"What are you...what did you WHAT?!"
"For smoking inside a no smoking zone and lying to your superior," Weeze said, almost giddy.
"You can't do this!" I yelled. JACKASS.
"Oh, can't I?" he asked, cackling evilly. "Keep arguing and we'll make it al year!"
I expected him to start skipping at any moment. Really, I did.
"DAMNIT Weeze!" I said, slapping the bathroom stall.
That just made Weasel laugh and leave the bathroom. I swear I saw him skip.
I kicked the bathroom stall, creating a dent in my boot and a blinding pain shooting up my leg, causing me to hop around the stall, lose my balance and fall into the toilet. I sighed in defeat. Least it couldn't get any worse.
Then the sprinklers went off.
* * * * * * * * * * Fourth Period- American Literature 1
Bryan P. Higgins
A.K.A
Racetrack
The Smartass
I hate fuckin' High School. I hate fuckin' people.
But most of all, I hate fuckin' TEACHERS
They stare at you with their all knowing bullshit attitudes and teach these things that you'll never need to know, make you write these essays about the meaning behind a friggin' poem written 100 years ago. Maybe there AIN'T no fucking reason! JESUS!
"Bryan? Bryan!"
I snapped out of dazed rant and raised my eyebrow at my American Literature teacher who, at the moment, had that oh to familiar "why aren't you locked on every word that I have just uttered from my holy mouth?!" face, which really didn't flatter her already ugly mug.
"Have you been listening to anything I have just said?" she asked, her voice probably trying to be intimidating.
Probably why she wasn't an actress.
Well, that and the fact that she looked like a horse.
"No," I answered calmly, cupping my chin in my hands.
Her eyes widened and made that "Oh no you DIDN'T" look.
"Well I simply cannot believe it. Bryan, how do you expect to pass this class if you don't pay attention when I am talking?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?"
I heard the class snicker, but kept my eyes locked on hers.
"Well I never I can't..."
Stutter stutter blah blah blahhhh
".how much do you want to bet you won't be passing this class?"
"Now you're talking my language Miss. Larksen. How about fifty bucks? Though I have to warn you, the odds aren't really bent in your favor."
The class snickered again and I could hear some people whispering now. Yeah, this was the only time they liked me, when I was being the smart dumbass.
Wow, an oxymoron! (told you the odds weren't in her favor)
"Bryan, I don't want a repeat of last year!"
"There won't be one if you don't talk to me," I said smoothly.
"Bryan, I am honestly getting very annoyed with you."
"Believe me ma'am, the feeling's mutual."
"Bryan!"
"Miss. Larksen!"
"Don't keep pushing me Bryan!"
"But I haven't touched you."
"Bryan!"
"I don't want to be charged with sexual assault Miss, that's why I told you."
"Bryan I am warning you..."
"Oh I'm shakin'!"
"THAT'S IT!" Miss Larksen threw the papers she was holding down, which just made the class laugh.
My work here was done.
"DETENTION!"
I shrugged. Not like THAT hadn't happened before...
"Saturday Morning!"
Always happens...
"For three months!"
NOT THAT.
"What the hell?!" Oh shit, did I say that out loud?
"Four months."
"Miss Larksen-"
"One more smart alec reply-"
"And you'll stop wearing pink?" Why the HELL did I say that?
"FIVE MONTHS!"
That finally shut me up. Five months of fucking Saturday Morning Detention?! WHAT THE FUCK?
"Bryan, what did I just say?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * Sixth Period- Math B
Mark Roberts
A.K.A
Skittery
The Moron
Dun Dun Dun DunnaDunnaDun Dun.
Perfect. That sounded awesome.
Too bad it was on a desk.
Didn't stop me from tapping my feet.
Wow, how strange was it that they were tapping out I hate school I hate school in perfect harmony? I think Mr. Vicinte realized it because he was staring at me with that annoyed math teacher look they're all required to learn before they can graduate math college or whatever they go to.
You think I'm stupid but I'm not/ You just won't give me a shot/ I don't need this shit/ Just wait til my first big hit/then you'll know me/then you'll want me/then you'll KNOW how good I am.
Pretty damn good.
"Mr. Roberts, please refrain from making anymore noise and try to listen to what I'm saying." I looked at Mr. Vicinte's aggravated face, still bobbing my head.
"Will you enlighten us with the answer?"
I shook my head no, tapping my pencil.
This stuff don't matter in the play of life/ Why should I care when there's somethin' else out there/ Just go away and leave me/ Go away and leave me with my knife.
I am on FIRE
Mr. Vicinte sighed exasperatedly. "Mr. Roberts, must I remind you that you're still a Junior because you failed math last term?
"Math, English and Spanish," I said, my face burning. He didn't have to remind me in front of the entire class. Jackass.
Mr. Vicinte shook his head and sighed. Again.
"Mr. Roberts, I don't want to see you back in this class next year."
My fingers started playing out Debussy's Clare de Lune on the rim of the desk as he continued with his "I'm only concerned for YOU" speech.
"Did you do the homework last night?"
I shook my head no, my fingers switching to Ragtime.
"Mr. Roberts, homework helps you comprehend what has..."
Dunna Dunna DunNa DunNA Dunna dunna DunNa DunNa Na bump bump Dunna Dunna DunNa DunNa Dunna dunna DunNa DunNa Na blink blink
"Therefore, until you start doing homework, you'll have Saturday Morning Detention every Saturday."
Bang.
My hands stopped moving as I stared at him, open-mouthed. He had to be kidding! I never do homework! I'll be going to Saturday Morning Detention until I'm forty! If I'm lucky...
Mr. Vicinte turned back to the board and began explaining something that I didn't pay attention to.
I looked around at the class. My peers were all glancing at me then looking away quickly. A variety of pity, curiosity and laughter filled their faced when they looked at me.
I just shrugged and pretended there was nothing wrong. I picked my pencil back up and started tapping out the theme to Friends.
I didn't stop when I saw Mr. Vicinte look over at me. Hey, this was why they called me Skittery.
* * * * * * * * * Sixth Period- American Literature 1
Davin Simmons
a.k.a
Dutchy
The New Boy
Do you know how much is SUCKS to transfer school in the middle of High School? I was a Junior but I felt like a freshman...worse than a Freshman because the Freshmen were bonding together, making friends in a school where they were alone whereas I was just...alone. With a bunch of people who had been friends with one another for two YEARS.
Oh, how I hated this school.
And on top of pessimistic thoughts I was LATE. Fifteen minutes late to English. With Miss. Larksen.
All I can say is not wonder why that woman's not married.
I finally found the room and dashed in, interrupting something. Miss. Larksen turned to face me, annoyance clearly shown on her multi colored face.
This wasn't going to be good.
"And just where have you been young man?" she asked, putting her hands o n her hips.
"I...I was just..."
"Trying to CUT were you?!" she yelled, her cheeks turning pink...or maybe her face was just reflecting off her dress...
"Wha...wha...no..." I stuttered some more, getting that embarrassed, burning feeling when you're being yelled at in front of a group of strangers.
You know that feeling?
"NOBODY CUTS MY CLASS!!!"
I jumped, not expecting to hear full out yelling. She came walking over to me until she was standing an inch away from my face.
"How dare YOU!" She screeched "you", causing me to jump again, only to trip forwards.
Good News: I didn't fall!
Bad News: Her breasts broke my fall.
And yes, they are real.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * Seventh-Eighth Periods- The Hallway
Bayard Conlon
a.k.a
Spot
The Tough Guy
When you have a name like Bayard, you sort of learn to be tough. Be tough or die, the pansy named kid's motto.
You also learn to accept the fact you have no friends from the constant beatings. And the nickname they give you. Spot. Cause I never miss my mark.
Fuck no.
Yeah, I was thinking all this as I sat in the boy's bathroom, cutting American Literature. Makes me sick. Interpreting things was never my style, you know? I'm not one for looking at the meaning behind words. What's there is there.
'Course I'm just saying that about words. Not people. Don't hold me accountable to THAT lie.
The bell rang and I got up and stretched. Astronomy. The only good thing about school. Besides Law.
Don't get me wrong. I'm sure High School is WONFERFUL- if you had friends.
And a normal name.
I blame my mother.
Listen, I ain't sappy all right? And besides, who the hell wants friends? They only let ya down.
I walked through the familiar hall, watching kids and teachers flinch and go out of their way to avoid me.
Laughable morons.
I was almost to Astronomy when I felt a tap from behind me. I turned around, putting my best "What?" expression on and almost choked.
Miss Larksen, the crazed American Literature teacher, was standing there looking all "argh". Oh shitttttt.
"Well Bayard, you know what I'm going to say."
"When and how long?" I asked, purposely making it sound the way you sick bastards read it.
"Five months, Saturday morning. Toodeeloo!" With that the bitch turned around on her pink heels and walked down the hall, leaving me to stare at her in disbelief.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
* * * * * *
Eighth Period- Shakespeare
Jacob Rivera
a.k.a
Snitch
The Thief
Life's a movie. So you act. All the time. It's the truth, even if you don't see it. Honestly, do you ever show your true self to the world, or do you have this personality you created that the world knows so they'll like you? Or hate you? Yeah you have, liar.
That's what I was thinking, glaring at my Shakespeare class. They all pretended to worship Shakespeare and all know everything about him and his plays when they can't even read ionic pentameter correctly. Most of them've only read Romeo and Juliet. Bastards.
Yeah I annoy easily and what?
Mr. Denton was talking away, trying to get these morons interested in the genius that is Shakespeare.
They knew NOTHING. It PISSES me off man!!
"...and I have your quizzes from yesterday..."
I perked up at that. Really? I thought I did well on that one. It was just a quiz he gave us to see if we read Othello, Much Ado About Nothing, A Midsummer's Night's Dream and A Comedy of Errors during the summer break. I LOVE those plays so I had practically memorized them SO I knew I got 100.
Listen, I'm not the best student when it comes to math, science, history, foreign languages and occasionally English, so doing well on something, actually being GOOD at something, is a thrill for me. That's why what happened next pissed me off so fucking much.
I got my wonderful 100 (probably the last one for a while), the bell rang and everybody got up to leave- I obviously being one of them.
I was halfway to the door when I heard Mr. Denton call my name. Confused, I walked to his desk, along with Ruth Smith, the prettiest, smartest, most popular untalented girl who ever walked these school halls.
Mr. Denton stared at us pointedly. Damn, his bow tie was giving me the creeps...I raised my eyebrows at him. It was last fucking period for the day and I had a date with my DVD player (I had just rented The Hours and Adaptation and was really just about bursting to watch them. Hey, that answers your question on why I'm so dumb! Partly...)
So anyway, Denton just sighed a few times and finally began to talk.
"I'm sorry that you have to be here Ruth, but this problem concerns you too." Seriously, what was the deal with the bow tie?
He looked straight at me, "disappointment" in his eyes. What the HELL did he think I did?
"Jacob, why did you cheat off Ruth's quiz paper?"
My mouth snapped open. "WHAT?"
Mr. Denton shook his head in an imitation of sorrow.
"You know what I am talking about Jacob. Now, I may be new here, but I know what grades you are usually capable of achieving besides the fact that I have been informed of a mishap which you were so unfortunatley a part of."
I felt my jaw tighten. I knew what he was talking about. Last year I was accused of stealing all this computer shit from the computer lab. They found all the crap in MY locker but I was FRAMED. They had no reason to believe me though, so I was suspended for a week (watched Spiderman, Edward Scissorhands, North by Northwest, Dead Poet's Society, Pulpfiction, Clerks, A Beautiful Mind, Jaws and Halloween 1-4 and Lord of the Rings).
So now I'm Snitch. The kid nobody believe because hey, who would believe a thief? I would.
Back to Denton.
"So what?!" I yelled at Denton. "Just because of something I DIDN'T DO last year? Just because you've heard my grades are sh-crap? Where does that show I cheated off Ruth?!"
Mr. Jackass remained unmoved. "Look, Jacob, the quiz required essay answers and you and Ruth have the exact same ones."
Denton took my paper from my hands and held up Ruth's. Sure enough, every answer was the same down to the last word.
SKANK WHORE!
"Therefore, I must give you detention." My eyes snapped away from the identical tests to look back at Denton.
"And I must insist you apologize to Ruth now."
My eyes slid to her pale face, her pretty red lips turned downward. I knew she had cheated off me. Her black eyes wouldn't meet mine.
"No," I hissed, throwing the word at her. "She should apologize to me!"
I grabbed my test back from Denton and walked out the door, my test clutched in my hand.
* * * * * * * * * * Period 8- Advanced Lab
David Jacobs
a.k.a
The Walking Mouth
"The Nerd"
Honestly, if people just spent a tad bit more time on their education than watching rubbish on TV they would be just as smart as me. And they wouldn't have to bother me.
I sighed as I mixed my carbon dioxide with my sodium glycerol, watching people follow sift out of the corner of my eye. I was tempted to mix it wrong which would cause the copier to get it wrong, causing a chain reaction throughout the entire class, one after another failing. But I didn't want purple skin.
My eyes snuck to the wall clock. Three minutes until freedom. Yes, I'll admit that I enjoy school much more than the average student, but the first few days after summer vacation are so monotonous. At least I didn't have physical education today as full schedule started tomorrow. That's when I'd be having torture everyday, ninth period. Weight room. The only subject I had trouble passing...
Believe me, I am not being conceited, but I am a genius. My IQ is 200 whereas normal is about 110.
Because I am talented in the field of learning, I am ignored by my jealous peers. It's a simple cause and effect concept.
I'm sorry, have I spoken too much? Well, I suppose that's why they call me the Walking Mouth.
I finished my experiment and had my Lab Report passed around the class for viewing with the five minutes to spare. I leaned forward on my Lab able and closed my eyes. There had been no sleep the night before due to an experiment I had been working on- I had lost track of the time and found it was 6:00, just in time for Fred to get me up.
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Hmmm, that cell phone ring sounded like mine.
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Why wasn't anybody picking up?
Ringalingalingaling ringalingalingaling...
Oh my GOD it was mine!
My eyes snapped open and I looked down at my bag, then to the teacher, Mr. Roosevelt, who look quite annoyed by the disruption.
He began to walk down the rows of tables, though he eyes were fixed on my bag. Oh no nononononononononono
He looked down at my bag, which hadn't terminated its endless ringing, and back at me, raising his eyebrows from behind his glasses.
"Your phone's ringing," he said and, before I could stop him, he reached into my bag and pulled out my cell phone, proceeding to press the "ok" button and saying "Hello?"
I don't own a high quality cell phone. In fact it's quite the opposite. Therefore, the entire class heard the following dialogue:
Dad: DAVEY? Davey sweetie, is that you?
Mr. Roosevelt: No, this is-
Dad: Listen Davey, your doctors appointment has been moved back an hour so you have time to go home, shower and remember to scrub your privates!!
Mr. Roosevelt: (laughter)
Dad: Oh Davey, don't laugh, remember what Dr. Jay said last time about you stinking to high heaven! I have to go now baby, Freddy's picking up organic pizza for dinner tonight, all right? Kiss Kiss!!
I felt my face burning and my body go hot. Everybody was outwardly laughing. I tweaked my nose a couple of times, trying not to look at anyone.
The bell rang and students rushed past, eager to rendezvous with their friends and gossip about what just happened.
My ears caught snatches of conversations:
"Ooooh Davey!"
"Stink to high heavens, wasn't that a laugh..."
"Was that his mom or his dad?"
"...sounded like a guy but said Fred..."
"...only child..."
I waited until all the students had left the room before daring to look up again. Mr. Roosevelt was staring at me, laugher hidden in his eyes. He pocketed my phone and leaned close to me.
"According to new rules of the school, put in effect by assistant- principal Snyder, any student who's cell phone goes off during the class has Saturday morning Detention starting immediately."
I was in shock. I had NEVER received detention before! That was for hooligans and intellectually challenged students!
"How long?" I choked out, tweaking my nose a couple more times.
"Five very long rings equal five months detention. Have a nice day Mr. Jacobs." He walked out the room, stopping only to pick up his briefcase, cane and put on the old-fashioned top hat he always wears. Then he was gone.
And so was my dignity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * Eighth Period- Art II
Peter Brooks
a.k.a
Kid Blink
The Disgruntled Artist
Art is LIFE! Well, my life anyway. That and swimming. Damn, I wanted to impress you guys, but now you all think I'm strange. Well I am the strange one-eyed artistic one.
Yes, I know why people don't hang out with me.
So many thoughts like that cross my mind as I paint. I get lost in the colors, the life that I am creating with my hands. If I could run through the streets screaming ART IS LIFE I would.
Which is one of the reasons I'm so unpopular.
Well, that and my one eye.
But that's beside the point.
I was still painting, lost in my world when the bell rang. I didn't hear it so I continued bringing my masterpiece to life by turning to get more blue paint. Turned to my blind side. Didn't see the chair.
To make a long story short, I wound up breaking twenty three jars of paint, three easels, all the linoleum blocks, all the plastic fruit and ruined somebody's' painting.
Oh wait, that would be mine
I'm not one for a lot of words so I'll spare you the details, but I got five month Saturday Morning Detention.
And a broken picture.
* * * * * * * * * * Seventh Period- Chemistry Lab
Bradley C. Meyers
a.k.a
Mush
The Shy Guy
I knew they shouldn't've let me near those chemicals. Noooo, they said "Bradley, you just need to build up your confidence, work in groups blah blah BLAH."
So it wasn't my fault! I warned them!
I was writing down the answer to my problem when I thought I smelled something burning
Just as though she read my thoughts, Sarah picked her head up and said "Something's burning."
I looked around the room. What morn would forget to turn off their Bunsen burner?
That would be me.
Right next to my arm, a piece of paper had caught fire and was beginning to spread to my lab mate's notebook.
Sarah let out a screech and knocked her chair over. The fire was spreading rapidly, but I froze- what could I do?
"MUSH!" I turned at my familiar "name" to see Sarah staring at me in panic. "DO SOMETHING!"
Of course that achieved nothing but more freezing.
The whole class was screaming now and the fire alarm went off for the second time that day.
I went into Broadway mind mode. What would Pippin do in a situation like this? Would he freeze? No! He would PUT OUT THE FIRE!
So I grabbed a cup of water that had just happened to be sitting on the teacher's desk and poured it over the fire.
Of course Sarah chose THEN to inform me that it was acid.
In the end the teacher came back into the room and extinguished it, but the damage was done. Pouring acid over a fire is never a good thing.
I was yelled at for about an hour, causing me to miss my Opera elective last period. I said nothing the entire time, mainly because I was scared, but I knew if I opened my mouth I would start crying. No, I didn't want that.
I sang The Jets Song from Westside Story in my head, trying to block out the anger. It sort of worked too...
In the end I got a call to my parents, one day in-house suspension, community service for a teacher (not science) an hour before and an hour after school and five months Saturday morning detention.
* * * * * * * *
END CHAPTER ONE
::dies::
I will NEVER write a chapter as long as that one EVER AGAIN...unless you liked it then I will. So, did you like it? Oh god, who made it to the end, it was song damn long...but anyway, I hope you people liked it ::crosses fingers and makes a face:: yes, it's going to be good, it is. I have confidence...::gets the song from the sound of music stuck in her head:: damnit! I have to stop talking now...ok, just read and review and tell me if I should continue. Bye.
-!-Alarice-!-