Philby stared blankly at the paper. He couldn't believe it, he had gotten an, an, F. How could that even happen?! He had stayed up till midnight, checking to make sure he had had perfect punctuation, spelling, and grammar. The bell rang, signaling that class was over. Still shocked at his score, thinking that he deserved better, Philby went up to confront my English teacher, . "Dell," Mr. Evans said, solemnly. "Mr. Evans, sir," I stuttered. "I don't really think I deserved an F."
"Dell, your paper was a hundred percent F," he scolded Philby from over his glasses. "Despite your flawless editing, you didn't do the paper on the subject given."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Dell, the paper was on the state you live in, and you literally went in the opposite direction."
"But I did my paper on- wait, did you just say state?" Philby asked, shocked.
"Yes, what on Earth did you think I said? Clean out your ears, boy!" He stood up from his chair while saying this. "I thought you said skate, so I wrote my paper about the skate parks that are popping up everywhere and that it is taking up room that could be better used as soccer fields. I had no clue it was about our state!" Philby complained. "That's your problem, not mine," he shot back from behind his shoulder while walking out the door to the teacher's lounge. I grabbed my backpack, and stormed off toward the cafeteria.