this story is told from the point of view of a different girl in a different school in a different town in a different county. Please enjoy. I thought it was pretty funny.
***
I never understood the reason for which some adults feel entitled to bore a class of teenagers to death while picking apart a perfectly good piece of literature. It's always painful to watch and even more so to participate in. You end up pitying everyone in the room, including the writing piece. Thankfully I was saved from this knowledge by my outstanding GPA which placed me in honors language arts for the past three years, but unfortunately today out teacher was out with the flu. Or something.
I put my head down on the table and close my eyes, trying to let the teachers words blend together. It doesn't work. Ms Hopkins has one of those sharp, nasally and annoying voices that ensure that you make out every single word. If our school was bigger, had more money, along with some more support from the state, maybe, just MAYBE we would have been able to afford a sub. But as it is, we have to have some sort of fundraising event every week and the honors classes are all like four people each so, throwing us in with the regular class seemed like the most logical solution. After all, it's not like we'll have trouble keeping up.
But see, LA isn't like math or science, with all those defined formulas and whatever other stuff set in place years ago. It was constantly changing and morphing, constantly holding some deeper inner meaning. But sometimes words were just that...words.
Bananas. Polka-dots. Baby spit. Fat.
That just proved my point.
Suddenly everything gets quiet and I jerk my head up in surprise. Looking around I see my reaction mirrored by my classmates. It was a miracle. Hopkins had gone mute.
You know those days when you're really lazy and don't feel like moving or doing any work and that you feel that if you have to do anything you hope it has something to do with hanging out with your friends? Well, today's that kind of day. I'm running out of juice to help my writing and my eyes hurt from staring at the screen to no avail. And you know how when you sleep to long and you finally wake up you feel even more tired then you did last night and you just want to go back to bed but you can't because either you don't know how to get back to a sleep state of mind or you know that you'll just be even more tired than you are then, so you just walk around all day feeling tired until someone forces you to do something that will get your blood pumping? Today's like that, too. Yesterday was crazy. I woke up way early, then went to some inter-district-school-field-day-thing for all the incoming freshman in our area. After school I had two hours of dance, during which we did mostly jumps, turns, and stretch. And then later I was invited to go iceskating with some of my friends for the two hour open skate. Throughout this whole ordeal I didn't give a second thought about how my muscles would pay, and today is my punishment.
I feel like dead jello.
