Ever have one of those moments when you know the rest of the day is gonna suck just because something tiny and in a way, normal, happens. As if fate kind of gives you a preview to a really long horror movie you'd rather hang yourself than watch?

Yeah? Well, that's how my day is going. Really, really, horrible.

It started when my History teacher, Mr. Ralphwood, decided to give us a pop quiz. Now, until this year, I was never exposed to pop quizzes much. I mean, who would be? They're annoying and stupid and they come out of nowhere to be thorn in your side. Like a mosquito. But see, Mr. Ralphwood's pop quizzes are the worst.

Instead of using the 45 minute break he has before our class to write the questions on the board, he insists on giving them orally. That means every visual learner in our class will fail…or as Mr. Ralphwood likes to say "Is less likely to succeed." Even worse? He has this bizarre accent that he says doesn't even exist. And he wants us to write it in full sentences, by the way. So, here's an example:

"The ancient civilization who cuts hearts out of living homosapiens and used them as sacrifices to their sun god during religious ceremonies are the Toltecs. True or False?"

So bad news for all you people with common sense who like to put "T or F"

Nope. You gotta write "False, the ancient civilization who cut hearts out of living homosapiens and used them as sacrifices to their sun god during religious ceremonies are the Toltecs"

Don't feel like it? You fail.

Don't remember the question? You fail.

Didn't read the textbook because you used one of the "homework passes"? You fail.

Now, me? I usually pass his stupid pop quizzes with a decent C. And that's fine with me. Dad always use to say, "It's not about how good you did, it's about how good you did compared to everyone else."

So considering my class is full of lazy idiots who barely shower, I'm the star pupil.

But today was different. Because today I had decided to use a Homework Pass. I'd like to take a moment out to warn every person out there that if there's one thing worse than taking drugs, it's taking a homework pass and thinking it's really gonna help you out. It won't. It's just some sick, twisted plan for good doobies like me to fail class so that the teacher's course looks harder than it really is. I'd also like to take a moment of silence for my GPA, which is probably going to die thanks to Mr. Ralphwood and his no good pop quizzes.

Anyway, I decided I would use the homework pass to ignore the book and the stupid review questions at the end. I mean, seriously…writing about ancient civilizations and their sun god wasn't going to make them come back to life. I really didn't care. So I planned to turn my pass in the next day, pass go, collect 200, and leave class feeling like a superstar.

But it didn't happen that way.

Mr. Ralphwood commanded we each take out a sheet of paper for his godawful pop quiz and I don't know…I panicked?

So I said, "Mr. Ralphwood…I sort of used my homework pass…I was gonna read it. Just not last night…is there any way I could____"

"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Achleton. You should know. Homework passes are only used for review questions…not the reading."

It seemed reasonable enough, but that didn't stop me from feeling like one of those poor suckers who didn't bother to read the small print on an insurance contract or something. I mean, really, he could've mentioned that earlier. He never did, did he?

I looked around to see if anyone else felt cheated out of their mind. Everyone just had blank stares on their faces. Like they were all sheep solemnly heading for the slaughterhouse. I sighed to myself…no way to get out of it.

So I took the pop quiz. I didn't know how to answer which type of winds were light and fluctuated and caused conquistadors to sink. I didn't know what ancient city was built in the center of a lake. I didn't even know the names of the King and Queen of Spain.

Everyone else seemed to know what they were doing except me…so I just kind of sat there, twiddling my thumbs and trying to find out the easiest way to get Mr. Ralphwood fired.

After picking up all the papers, he inspected mine thoroughly. I didn't see what there was to inspect. I failed. Then, after flipping the page back and forth a gazillion times, looking for answers that he thought were maybe secretly hidden someplace, he set the papers down on his wooden podium and began to walk across the front of the classroom in that stupid way teachers do. His eyes flickered to me for a second, pure amusement flashing in them, before he looked across the rest of my classmates.

"See, children, this is why you need to pay attention. Or else, you'll end up like Mr. Achleton here."

I hated the way he said my name. Like it was some disease everyone was forbidden to talk about.

"He failed his quiz because he was too lazy to even read the book. What do you children expect college to be like? A walk in the park? A picnic? Hm?"

His questions were rhetorical, and even if they weren't, my classmates knew better than to talk when people had that glazed look in there eyes___like they were gonna pull a butcher knife on you any second and interrogate you about something only complete psychos would care about.

Then I saw it. Or heard it, rather. "He just didn't use his homework pass properly…that's all"

It was Kiya.

Naturally, I would've turned around to give her a thankful smile, but at the moment, my mind was too busy trying to telepathically blurt out to her "What the hell are you thinking?!"

I wasn't a telepath though. So my face just turned red like it did when I wanted to slap something without anyone noticing.

Mr. Ralphwood's chapped lips parted a little, revealing disgusting, coffee-stained teeth. His flabby cheeks sprang upward as he did and his head slowly creaked over in Kiya's direction, like a lever in his neck had snapped and it was causing his whole head to move in slow mo.

It was times like these that I didn't want to believe that principals actually interviewed teachers before they hired them. Seriously! Who would hire this nutcase?! He looked like he was about to whip out a gun on all of us and call it a day.

"Ah, Kiya Berkely" he murmured in this soft tone, almost sadistic sounding.

Kiya didn't look scared, but she did look confused. Like no one had ever looked at her that way before. Probably not. They probably didn't have crazies like Mr. Ralphwood running around in Barbados.

"You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, lest I have to shut it for you"

Kiya looked like she was about to pounce on that guy quick. And I would've been more than happy to watch, but I wanted a piece of him myself. It really bugged me how people in authority thought they could talk to you in any kind of way. In fact, it really sickened me to the core. Didn't they know that the people they treat like dirt would eventually become mass murderers, that they'd come back with a vengeance with you on the top of their list. It happened every day. I didn't even notice my hands had balled up into fists, that my mass of wavy brown hair had covered one of my eyes, shielding my history teacher from an orb of fury that was ready to burn a hole through his skull. My mouth opened for a second…

"Dude, what's your problem?!"

That voice didn't even sound like me, like something I would say. But it was. And I knew as soon as Mr. Ralphwood glared at me with his hideous swamp green eyes. This wasn't the first time I had blurted my thoughts aloud though. I wasn't really scared anymore, either. I was too mad to be, I guess.

Then, Mr. Ralphwood's eyes glimmered with pure hatred. It was the look people gave mutants when they were about to mal them in an alleyway; it was the look senators gave reporters when they mentioned the attack on Alcatraz. It was the look that bullies and teachers and, dammit, nearly everybody had given me for the past few years of my life. Just because I was a loser. Just because I wasn't interested in playing football or listening to a certain band's music. It was a look that could kill. And I gave it right back.

"No wonder your father doesn't want you. You're a disrespectful young man, aren't you? I wouldn't be surprised if your mom____"

That was all I heard. I knew my face was going red, but I was angry. He shouldn't be able to say that stuff to me. No one should. Not for being a mutant, not for anything. I hated him…I hated him so much…And then I realized something.

Mr. Ralphwood wasn't talking.

In front of me, Mr. Ralphwood's fair skin was turning paler and paler. His breath quickened hysterically as he looked at me with enlargened eyes. His scrawny legs began to buckle underneath him and he attempted to grab my desk for support.

The guy looked like he was about to throw up…so I did the only thing I could think of…I scooted my desk away from him.

He'd of fallen flat on his face, had his thin, frail arms not kept him up. He was screaming now…it was muffled as if he was choking, but he was definitely screaming. I looked around to see if anyone would do anything, but they were all too busy yelling and looking at something I hadn't noticed.

Smoke.

Deep dark smoke was now billowing from Mr. Ralphwood's mouth rather quickly. Unless he'd eaten Taco Bell for breakfast, something wasn't right here. Blood oozed from his nose and his lips began to fry.

Finn scampered from her desk and was off to get help while the rest of us watched in shock. Smoke was filling up the entire room now and people began coughing as the fire alarm was set off across the entire building. The loud beeping burned my ears, but I was too busy focusing on Mr. Ralphwood. The rest of my class didn't seem too interested anymore. They decided to jet before they became victim to whatever new airborne sickness had plagued our history teacher. The only ones who had stayed behind were Nathan and Kiya.

Kiya looked at me with a glare I couldn't even describe. It was like fear, confusion, and understanding all in one.

Nathan was behind her, trying to talk to the rapidly dying Mr. Ralphwood. He was saying something incoherent, but before any of us could make out his words, Malcolm burst through the door, running all the way from his Geometry class from across the corridor. I couldn't even pretend to be surprised at what was happening. I was too afraid someone was gonna blame me for this. Surely, someone had to know I was a mutant.

"Guys!" He screamed, suffocating from the smoke almost instantly, "Fire___"

His voice faded as he peered through the smoke at the nearly dead history teacher sprawled across the floor in front of us. He looked up at me in question and I couldn't look him in the eye. I knew I had done this. And I felt guilty.

"Drill." Kiya finished for him grimly.