Status: Christmas Break is coming up. I'll be able to write more, then. ^.^ Finals and presentations and projects....Gah!! I haven't given up on this, though, promise! I have somewhat of an ending written...And I love it!
Weeds
November 12
November 12
It happened in the middle of the afternoon, in my multimedia class. It was bad. It was…absolutely insane.
The Teacher wants us all do this Big Project, right? We need to work in pairs. As if that isn’t bad enough, she, like any teacher, wouldn’t let us pick our own partners. She assigned them for us. She even thought she was giving us a break: “Now, I’m not going to be the big, bad teacher and partner the creative geniuses with the slackers…I know that’s every student’s worst fear.” She gave a little self-important smile and looked around the room like, well, like she was Jesus handing out his own body parts. “Instead, I’ve looked over every project each of you have turned in…and partnered you based on your interests, based on the topics you have chosen in the past. I think I have done rather well. I think you will like your partners.”
Translation: “You’ll hate them. Pretend otherwise. Or I’ll fail you.”
Well, she tried. I will give her that. She honestly thought she was doing right by this. Sigh.
And so, she proceeded to go down the little chart she had in her hands. The room was filled with a combination of whoops and squeals and gasps of surprise as people normally not on each other’s radar found themselves thrown together.
And then came my name. “Aaaand…Jordan.”
You know, I’d never realized how well-known I was till then. ‘Cause the whole room went dead silent. Ooooh, the remaining partner-less were just a-trembling in their boots! The recently partnered clutched one another in relief! No, I am not kidding about this. I was sitting there, witnessing the expressions on everyone’s faces. It was so weird. Am I that scary? No, really?
A small smile sprouted on Teacher’s face. She looked up from her little paper and said “Taylor.”
Mouths fell open. I swear, I heard chair legs skidding across the floor as people slid away from him, as if he’d suddenly caught a contagious disease.
Have I mentioned Taylor before? Probably not. I rarely see him. And when I do, I rarely think about him. I mean, he’s not much different from the other kids here. Oh, sure, he’s co-starred in a couple of major hit motion pictures, but here at Caleb-High-Home-Of-The-Dolphins, that’s nothing. But yet, the dude is still pretty popular. He’s also on a lot of teenaged girls’ hot-list: he’s a track star and quite muscled due to a few months of boot camp he had to undergo for some movie. He’s like a neon blue rose, decked out in flashing lights, standing out against the crowd, feeding off the coos and sappy giggles from the girls that huddle around him like baby’s breath in a wedding bouquet.
Not that any of this matters to me, of course. Lil ole me, slouching there in my chair on the opposite side of the room, a crazed figure in black and silver and red and purple. The girl with the attitude. The girl everyone FEARS! Oh, you know it’s true. I am FEARED. Mwahaha!
Pshaw.
I looked around and saw that Taylor was staring at me, his arms across his chest. He is darker than most of the kids here, due to some dark-ish ancestry that I know nothing about. Not just tanned, but naturally darker, with black hair and eyes…brownish-red skin. So…through the mess of orangey-tan of the other kids, he was like a black hole, drawing my attention. I couldn’t look away.
Then he threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling, and groaned. Loudly.
Jerk.
I looked away.
Teacher smiled. “I think you two will find you have much in common. I think you will enjoy working together.”
Which goes to show you how oblivious teachers can be.
“Why her?" Taylor whined. "It’s a mistake. I’m not into drugs or prostitution. How can I possibly have been paired with her?”
Bastard.
Teacher’s smile froze. “We don’t use such language within these walls, Taylor.” And then, y’know, she went on talking about something I couldn’t care less about.
Which goes to show you exactly how much the average person cares about what’s really important.
I felt extremely homicidal. I ignored everything else Teacher had to say and plugged my earbuds in, tuning her out with screaming guitars.
It happened in the middle of the afternoon, in my multimedia class. It was bad. It was…absolutely insane.
The Teacher wants us all do this Big Project, right? We need to work in pairs. As if that isn’t bad enough, she, like any teacher, wouldn’t let us pick our own partners. She assigned them for us. She even thought she was giving us a break: “Now, I’m not going to be the big, bad teacher and partner the creative geniuses with the slackers…I know that’s every student’s worst fear.” She gave a little self-important smile and looked around the room like, well, like she was Jesus handing out his own body parts. “Instead, I’ve looked over every project each of you have turned in…and partnered you based on your interests, based on the topics you have chosen in the past. I think I have done rather well. I think you will like your partners.”
Translation: “You’ll hate them. Pretend otherwise. Or I’ll fail you.”
Well, she tried. I will give her that. She honestly thought she was doing right by this. Sigh.
And so, she proceeded to go down the little chart she had in her hands. The room was filled with a combination of whoops and squeals and gasps of surprise as people normally not on each other’s radar found themselves thrown together.
And then came my name. “Aaaand…Jordan.”
You know, I’d never realized how well-known I was till then. ‘Cause the whole room went dead silent. Ooooh, the remaining partner-less were just a-trembling in their boots! The recently partnered clutched one another in relief! No, I am not kidding about this. I was sitting there, witnessing the expressions on everyone’s faces. It was so weird. Am I that scary? No, really?
A small smile sprouted on Teacher’s face. She looked up from her little paper and said “Taylor.”
Mouths fell open. I swear, I heard chair legs skidding across the floor as people slid away from him, as if he’d suddenly caught a contagious disease.
Have I mentioned Taylor before? Probably not. I rarely see him. And when I do, I rarely think about him. I mean, he’s not much different from the other kids here. Oh, sure, he’s co-starred in a couple of major hit motion pictures, but here at Caleb-High-Home-Of-The-Dolphins, that’s nothing. But yet, the dude is still pretty popular. He’s also on a lot of teenaged girls’ hot-list: he’s a track star and quite muscled due to a few months of boot camp he had to undergo for some movie. He’s like a neon blue rose, decked out in flashing lights, standing out against the crowd, feeding off the coos and sappy giggles from the girls that huddle around him like baby’s breath in a wedding bouquet.
Not that any of this matters to me, of course. Lil ole me, slouching there in my chair on the opposite side of the room, a crazed figure in black and silver and red and purple. The girl with the attitude. The girl everyone FEARS! Oh, you know it’s true. I am FEARED. Mwahaha!
Pshaw.
I looked around and saw that Taylor was staring at me, his arms across his chest. He is darker than most of the kids here, due to some dark-ish ancestry that I know nothing about. Not just tanned, but naturally darker, with black hair and eyes…brownish-red skin. So…through the mess of orangey-tan of the other kids, he was like a black hole, drawing my attention. I couldn’t look away.
Then he threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling, and groaned. Loudly.
Jerk.
I looked away.
Teacher smiled. “I think you two will find you have much in common. I think you will enjoy working together.”
Which goes to show you how oblivious teachers can be.
“Why her?" Taylor whined. "It’s a mistake. I’m not into drugs or prostitution. How can I possibly have been paired with her?”
Bastard.
Teacher’s smile froze. “We don’t use such language within these walls, Taylor.” And then, y’know, she went on talking about something I couldn’t care less about.
Which goes to show you exactly how much the average person cares about what’s really important.
I felt extremely homicidal. I ignored everything else Teacher had to say and plugged my earbuds in, tuning her out with screaming guitars.