Next class!
Newsie Notes
History
Racetrack is in bold.
Hawkeye is in italics.
Kid Blink is underlined.
BORING! -closes curtain-
I'm so hungry!
Here we go again.
Huh?
He was complaining all through English, and kindly landed ME in detention. Stupid.
It was Spot's fault!
-eye roll-
You guys going to the fair this weekend?
Yeah, are you?
Yeah. Blink, you gonna ask anyone?
Does EVERYTHING have to be about dates for you?
Yes. No. And who? Me?
No, Race.
What? Ha ha, looks like Hawkie doesn't have someone to go with.
I'm mentally slapping you. A lot.
Ouch.
He's just too embarrassed to ask you, Hawk.
What's embarrassing about asking me?
BLINK! I'M GONNA—
"Mr. Higgins! Why are you scribbling furiously on your notes?" Mr. Parr arched an eyebrow.
"Wha—? Oh, er," Racetrack shrugged, "I just really can't stand that Andrew Jackson. What a jerk."
Hawkeye's palm collided with her face and Kid Blink rolled his eyes.
"Mr. Higgins, we're studying the Indian wars," Mr. Parr rubbed his temples, looking exasperated.
"Yes, and if it hadn't been for Andrew Jackson, we'd be living in peace with the Indians." Race nodded, trying to seem like her knew what he rambling about.
"Just stop whatever you're doing and pay attention," Mr. Parr said.
Idiot.
At least I didn't get another detention.
Shouldn't you be working now?
Or asking SOMEONE to the fair?
Yes—Blink, will you go to the fair with me? My love for you burns with the passion of one thousand suns!
ROFL!
Study next!
I will not!
The class, moron.
Not with me. :(
Good.
Hey!
…She said in a kind and caring way…
Blargh. I've got chemistry.
With SOMEONE.
Enjoy yourself.
That's an oxymoron… Enjoying oneself in chem.
Well spotted, Captain Obvious.
I'm soooo hungry!
Then go get your lunch, stupid.
-coughs- Stop changing the subject.
Blink, go start your own note.
With who?
Yourself.
Why?
…
Oh, right. Dear self…
Boy, you two know how to make things awkward.
Sorry.
Don't apologize—you have many flaws.
Thanks. You sure know how to make this easy.
My bad. Want a pretzel?
Yes. And… do you maybe kind of sort of possibly wanna go to the fair with me…? Please?
"Okay, go ahead and leave." Mr. Parr waved his hand, dismissing the class.
Race looked up from the note, "What!"
"Class. Over. Now. Leave," Hawkeye stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, "What'd you write back?"
Racetrack shrugged, shoving the note in his pocket, "Nothing important."
Hawkeye said, "Mkay. Pretzel?"
"Yeah, sure."