Heyy! Ok, so here's chapter six! Algebra...oy, my personal least favorite class. And Soda's. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I stinkin' don't own anything! *Stomps off in a pouty fit*

~Rosey

Sixth Hour: Algebra

After a lunch full of a food-fight and other such chaos, Sodapop walked grudgingly into algebra class, his head still thumping with pain from his oh-so-bright idea during auto-mechanics. He plopped into his seat...and then groaned at the announcement on the board.

Test.

Today.

Twenty percent of your grade.

Soda groaned again and slammed his head onto his desk...which wasn't a good idea since he already had a bruise the size of a cantalope on his forehead. After using some selective vocabulary to express his pain, he quickly tried to remember anything about algebra he had learned in the past few weeks. Something about "A" being squared and equaling "B" squared? He sighed. If "A" was squared, it couldn't be the same thing as "B" being squared. They were two different letters. Everybody knew that. He quickly reached for his notes, tore them open, and moaned. He had written down the first part of an example problem and then had begun doodling. He sighed, shoving his pitiful attempt at notes aside. He was so dead.

Mr. King walked into the class room, his unibrow scowling. "Ok, class, today's the test over chapter five. Please get out your pencils and scratch paper," he instructed, passing out the tests down the rows. "No talking, cheating, laughing, crying, whispering, or whistling Elvis songs. I'm talking to you, Mr. Curtis," he glared over at Soda, who smirked before accepting the test he was handed and putting it on his desk. "You may begin," Mr. King demanded, sitting at his desk and began watching his class like a tiger watches its prey.

Soda took a deep breath and looked down at his paper. The first problem made his head throb so hard he had to squeeze his eyes tightly. Something about Bill's lumber yard selling five bundles of wood for twenty dollars and Jack's lumber selling ten bundles for thirty...He sighed, rubbing his head. Like he would ever really need any of this stuff in real life. Biting his lip, he began tapping the end of his pencil on the table. Just as he was about to turn the drumming of his pencil into a full fledged concert, the entire class "Shh!"ed him.

"Sorry," he whispered. He then absently began tapping his foot. He just couldn't keep still that long while concentrating on one thing-especially algebra.

"SHH!" the class hissed again.

"Sorry," he whispered again. But then "Jailhouse Rock" popped into his head. And he had to hum it. He just had to. When he reciveved another unanomous "Shh!" the teacher bolted up from his desk and approached the blonde greaser, his arms crossed.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked crossly.

"Yes, actually. The class is disrupting me with their 'Shh's!" Soda complained.

Mr. King only glared at him. Soda sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm goin'," he rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and grabbing his backpack, shoving it over his shoulder. He opened the door of the class room and then walked into the hall towards the office, ignoring the giggles he could hear coming from his algebra class.

When he arrived in the office, he found Two-Bit was also in there, sitting in a chair with his feet kicked up on a table.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Soda greeted his friend, sitting by him to wait for the principal to call him back.

"Hey, Soda. Test day?" the Mickey-Mouse shirted boy asked, raising an eye-brow.

"Yup. Algebra. The class was being disruptive so I was sent to the office," Soda chuckled. "What are you in for?"

"Ehh, I had nothing better to do," Two-Bit shrugged.

Soda laughed. School wasn't so bad when you had your friends.

Hehehe Algebra is my least favorite subject, so this was oober easy to write. lol

Well now all I can say is REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! And then on to English class! :)

~Rosey