You can't break a heart that's already broken.

I shook off the thoughts of the strange guys and kept up my steady pace walking. I crossed the main square, walked a few blocks and yippie! I made it to school, bearly on time. I ran up the steps to the red school. It was fairly large and two stories high. It was one of those schools that showed kid's work by hanging them on the walls and what not. I ran up the stairs to my small locker. I stuffed my bag inside and grabbed my stuff for art. See well, this school is one where you go at your own pace. You go from grade to grade when your good and ready.
Right now I'm about 9Th or 10Th grade. So I might be about three grades ahead but I really don't know.
I only need credits for two classes to graduate to the next level. The two classes I hate the most, Math and Science. I understand it but the teacher is a total witch with a 'B'. The other two classes are electives, art and music.
So, I grab my books that I need for science and art first. I walk down stairs towards the advanced art class. Today was one of those catch up days where you really do anything you want. I took my seat in the far back of the class. It was the very last table. The room was too bright in here. Windows aligned one wall, while pictures aliened all the others. The teacher wasn't in the room....again. She didn't come to her own class very often and no one cared. I sighed and got to work. I opened my sketch pad and I .... well I started to sketch. The bell rang an hour and a half later and I ran to my next class upstairs.
Science. I hated it with a fiery passion. My seat was in the very first row, smack dab in the middle. I guess I got on her bad side the very first day by flipping her off. She smacks my desk with a ruler every time I put my head down. She walks by my desk every 30 seconds. Then every time I finish work, she gives me more then everyone else. I learned quickly, to do my work very slowly. She was the only teacher that gave the class homework on the weekends. Her name is Mrs.Gilly. Who would marry a witch like her?
The class was dreadfully awful. Hour and a half later I was bored to tears. The bell rang and I got out of the chair so fast it almost fell over. I raced out and stopped when I reached my locker. I switched my books over from science and art to Math and music.
First I walked to lunch. I sat with all the other kids with out parents. We are kind of shunned to one table or two for some reason. Lunch is uneventful.....it always is.
I walked my way, very slowly, toward the math room two doors down from my locker. I sat down at my assigned seat in the middle of the room. The reason I hate this class? She gives too much class work. We need to finish for home work. Then she waste all her time blabbing over the answers we have almost no time to do the days work. Then she screams at us for being lazy. Fun.
After all that torture I jogged to music, my all time favorite class. It's the best because I have no home work, I can do whatever I want and I can use what ever I want. The teacher, Mr.Simmons, really doesn't care what you do.
I walked over to the slightly turned stand up piano. I practiced all the major scales forwards and back words with both hands at the same time. I played a piece called The march written by an old close friend. Time passed too quickly and I switched stations to guitar. I strummed a few frets but got bored quickly.
Before I knew it, the school day ended. I shoved my books in my locker and put the stuff I needed in my book bag. I slung the bag over my shoulder and walked out of the school. It was a perfect day. It was sunny, with a few clouds. It was probably 70 degrees. I began the long walk home with my heavy bag.