Mrs. F*cking Murray.

I'm in school right now. Being rebellious.

So, in math class a few minutes ago, I was writing a note to my best friend, Hannah. In that note, I may have happened to call my teacher, Mrs. Murray, a "f*cking b*tch". But, for the record, she really is. A raging b*tchaholic. B*tchface, B*tchy McB*tcherson.

Well, Mrs. Murray decided to pick today, of my thirty-seven days of writing notes to Hannah, to take up the note. So, I'm just like, "Breathe, Abbie, breeeathe. She's not gonna read it. Why the hell would she be compelled to read a note called 'Hannahkinzzz'? She's not gonna-" then she looks up at me and I'm like, "POKERFACE."

So, apparently I'm not that good at hiding panic. Because she gets this weird look on her face and reaches over for the note--which was just sitting on her desk before I had started talking myself down--and starts reading it. So, I pretend to be really concentrated on my homework. Like, I'm counting on my fingers and making these confused faces and looking really intent on getting my homework done. Then I peek over at her and she's just staring at me like I'm Satan's spawn.

I'm about to walk out the door, right? And I'm just like, "Almost there...almooost theeere. Oh, sweet freedom!" and then she goes, "Miss Grey. I would like to speak with you."

She said something about "filth" and how "undeserving" she was and how she's going to refer me to the principal. But, I mean, I'll probably only get in school detention. Last time I was there, this senior said he was in there for saying "what the f*ck" to the lunch lady (who, by the way, also said f*ck 0.o).