Disclaimer: I don't own Ms. Tunick! She really was our freshman math teacher! And we only exaggerated mildly! She was an awful, awful 28-year-old grouch who moved to Africa to bother little African kids with her "Rise Over Run" theories.
Author's Note: Heh…guess I kinda put it in the disclaimer, didn't I? Oh, well. Ditto the disclaimer!
Chapter Seven
Ms. Tunick
SARA
Sara looked around the classroom that she was in. This didn't seem like The Rafiki anymore. A teacher wrapped her shouldered with a meter stick. "Sit down." The voice of the teacher brought horrible memories to Sara's mind. The Mad Minutes…the tests…the awful, horrible homework. Ms. Tunick.
"Ms. Tunick!" Sara shouted.
Ms. Tunick laughed evilly. "Yes. Guess what, Sara? It's time for a Mad Minute! Take out your pencil."
"I don't have a pencil."
Tunick laughed again. "I know! You can have one for collateral."
"Collateral?" Sara asked, backing away.
"That's right, Sara." Tunick reached for her. "Give me your fingernail."
"What!"
Tunick pulled out a pair of nail clippers and snipped off one of Sara's long, manicured nails. "Your fingernail." Tunick smiled. "Here's your pencil. Begin!"
THREE MINUTES LATER
"Time's up. Pencils down."
Sara looked at her. "I finished two minutes ago."
"Oh. Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then!" Ms. Tunick clapped her hands together. "Let's check it!"
"No. That's okay. I really should be going…"
Tunick laughed evilly. "Don't count on it. You're here FOREVER!"
Sara gasped and backed away. "Wait…I can teleport. Good-bye, Tunick."
"I'm not going anywhere…"
Sara smiled. "But I am." She disappeared.