I'm late to history class the next day.
I'm LATE to the one class I'm failing.
Ugh.
I stumble into the class, out of breath, but extremely satisfied.
It turns out, Jones' technique DID work. I was so happy when I woke up this morning and was able to answer the ten questions to the best of my ability.
It was a nice feeling, you know.
"Miss Ravenwood. Please take your seat." My teacher, Mr. Barns, says in a nasal tone.
I walk to my seat, shooting glares at the giggles from the students around me.
Mr. Barns follows me to my seat and looks expectantly at me, but saying nothing.
"Yes?" I ask, trying to remain polite, though bitingly so.
"Your homework, Miss Ravenwood, or have you forgotten it again?"
I take it out of my bag. "I happened to finish it Mr. Barns. I think you'll find the answers satisfactory."
He snatches the paper from my hand and walks back to his desk, where he sits.
"Tardiness is not a virtue class. It will haunt you if you make it a daily routine." He drones to the class, giving me most of the many death glares.
I sink lower in my seat, meaning my bum is almost on the floor. I try to avoid the weird looks from my classmates, especially the girls who look up to me because I'm an independent woman.
I glance over at Carrie, and almost laugh when I find that she is crossing her bright blue eyes at me, just to be spiteful. I stick my tongue out back as I reply.
History classes are always more durable if you have a friend to screw around with during them.
A/N: This is another useless short, just dipping into Marion's social life with little mention of Indy. It may be like that with some of these. Too much romance is not good for the soul, you know!