Big City Dreams.
Chapter 02.
Music theory is the perfect place to get work done. I generally just sit in the back and do other work. Mr. Davies did love to tell me to stick with everyone else, but this kind of stuff came too easy to me but to take another music class, I had to take music theory. This was the one class I mostly kept to myself in, just because it was a, early in the morning and b, most of the kids in this class were younger than me.
"Guys, this is a new student. Her name is Zette, be nice to her," Mr. Davies told the class, "I'm serious." A couple kids to the left of me snickered, and I rolled my eyes, putting one of my ear buds in my ear, turning my iPod up. Automatically, he's eyes fell on me and I rolled my eyes, sliding down in my seat.
"Emily," he snapped, "Turn it off." I didn't, instead just turned it up more. He shook his head.
"Emily, off. Now," he repeated. Still, I didn't do it and I looked from him to my iPod screen.
"She won't listen to you," a girl in front of me said. "She doesn't answer to Emily." He looked from me to her, shaking his head.
"And why the hell not?" he asked, his British accent becoming more apparent as he got more and more aggravated.
"Because that's not her name," the boy next to her replied.
"What do you mean that's not her name?!" he shouted. I cackled a little, shaking my head but I kept my eyes on the screen.
"Her name is Em. She won't answer to Emily," the boy informed. "Watch." Pause. "Hey Em," he said. I looked up from the screen to him, giving him a nod.
"Sup?" I asked.
"Mr. Davies wants you to turn off your iPod," he told me. I shrugged.
"If he wants me to, he can ask me himself," I said, running my hand through my maroon hair.
"Em, turn it off," Mr. Davis said. "Now. Or I'll take it away." I shrugged, looking up at him and turning it off as I did so.
"See what happens when you call students by the right name?" I asked. Sure, that was probably not the best thing to say to a teacher, and I was already on thin ice with most of my teachers this year, with the exception of my history teacher, but I'm a senior. Why should I care?
"Zette," Mr. Davies sighed. "Just take a seat wherever they're an empty one, okay? Maybe you can keep this one in check," he added, pointing at me. The girl nodded, sitting down next to me. I looked over at her, tilting my head.
"Cool Good Charlotte shirt," I complimented, "And welcome to hell." I chuckled a little, sitting back in my seat, "This school sucks."
"Thanks?" she mumbled. "I'm Zette," she added after a moment.
"Em," I sighed. I looked at the paper in her hand before grabbing it. "Is this your schedule?" I asked, scanning it quickly.
"Yeah," she said slowly, "Can I have that back?"
"Hey! You have history next period with Mr. Minton!" I exclaimed, smiling a little. "So do I. You can borrow my notes if you need to. I keep pretty good notes. Just don't tell anyone that," I mumbled. "But he's a really good teacher. And really fucking cute." I continued to look at her teachers. "And you have the Mr. H's! They're brothers," I told her, "And Mr. Paul. Dude's a straight up grump though, or maybe that's just to me." I shrugged, handing her back her schedule.
"Thanks," she said, folding it up.
"Not to worry, young padawan, I've gotcha covered," I told her. I've been the new kid before, and I didn't like it and I wasn't about to leave this chick with a Good Charlotte shirt to dry. "You'll be fine, I promise."
"Guys, this is a new student. Her name is Zette, be nice to her," Mr. Davies told the class, "I'm serious." A couple kids to the left of me snickered, and I rolled my eyes, putting one of my ear buds in my ear, turning my iPod up. Automatically, he's eyes fell on me and I rolled my eyes, sliding down in my seat.
"Emily," he snapped, "Turn it off." I didn't, instead just turned it up more. He shook his head.
"Emily, off. Now," he repeated. Still, I didn't do it and I looked from him to my iPod screen.
"She won't listen to you," a girl in front of me said. "She doesn't answer to Emily." He looked from me to her, shaking his head.
"And why the hell not?" he asked, his British accent becoming more apparent as he got more and more aggravated.
"Because that's not her name," the boy next to her replied.
"What do you mean that's not her name?!" he shouted. I cackled a little, shaking my head but I kept my eyes on the screen.
"Her name is Em. She won't answer to Emily," the boy informed. "Watch." Pause. "Hey Em," he said. I looked up from the screen to him, giving him a nod.
"Sup?" I asked.
"Mr. Davies wants you to turn off your iPod," he told me. I shrugged.
"If he wants me to, he can ask me himself," I said, running my hand through my maroon hair.
"Em, turn it off," Mr. Davis said. "Now. Or I'll take it away." I shrugged, looking up at him and turning it off as I did so.
"See what happens when you call students by the right name?" I asked. Sure, that was probably not the best thing to say to a teacher, and I was already on thin ice with most of my teachers this year, with the exception of my history teacher, but I'm a senior. Why should I care?
"Zette," Mr. Davies sighed. "Just take a seat wherever they're an empty one, okay? Maybe you can keep this one in check," he added, pointing at me. The girl nodded, sitting down next to me. I looked over at her, tilting my head.
"Cool Good Charlotte shirt," I complimented, "And welcome to hell." I chuckled a little, sitting back in my seat, "This school sucks."
"Thanks?" she mumbled. "I'm Zette," she added after a moment.
"Em," I sighed. I looked at the paper in her hand before grabbing it. "Is this your schedule?" I asked, scanning it quickly.
"Yeah," she said slowly, "Can I have that back?"
"Hey! You have history next period with Mr. Minton!" I exclaimed, smiling a little. "So do I. You can borrow my notes if you need to. I keep pretty good notes. Just don't tell anyone that," I mumbled. "But he's a really good teacher. And really fucking cute." I continued to look at her teachers. "And you have the Mr. H's! They're brothers," I told her, "And Mr. Paul. Dude's a straight up grump though, or maybe that's just to me." I shrugged, handing her back her schedule.
"Thanks," she said, folding it up.
"Not to worry, young padawan, I've gotcha covered," I told her. I've been the new kid before, and I didn't like it and I wasn't about to leave this chick with a Good Charlotte shirt to dry. "You'll be fine, I promise."