Status: Sorry to leave you hanging guys! The keyboard on my laptop is malfunctioning.
Stop Pretending That You're Sorry
9
Since I spent so much time cleaning up I didn’t have time to start my art project. It took twice as long as it should’ve to get rid of that mess since I was shaking horribly the entire time.
By the time I finished I really just wanted to go curl up in bed, so I did and the damn spring was constantly poking me no matter which way I twisted and turned.
I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried, so instead I grabbed my history homework. At least I’d be able to impress Mr. H by actually completing something for once.
I don’t actually remember falling asleep that night, but I woke up with my history homework stuck to my face and I was fucking exhausted.
“Wake up, Regan!” Mr. Harrington shouted, kicking my desk as he passed by.
My head shot straight up and groggily I croaked, “What the fu-“
“Finish that word and it’s yet another detention.”
That’s right, I’d already gotten a second detention for being late again, and now I was possibly going to get my third.
“You do know that if you get three detentions in a row, you’ll earn yourself a suspension, right?”
That woke me up. Shit. I couldn’t get suspended. Being forced to stay home all day with mom and Anthony, I couldn’t handle that.
“Look, why don’t we continue this discussion after class, but for now please stay awake during the lesson I’ve worked so hard to prepare.”
I looked down at the piece of paper on my desk that I was supposed to be writing notes on. It had little wet spots from drool marks. I’m a classy bitch.
Pretending to be intensely immersed in the lesson, I occasionally looked up from the doodles I was drawing on the notes sheet.
Not too long after the bell rang and everyone start shuffling around, gathering their stuff. In the midst of the madness Mr. H waved me over to his desk.
“So, would you like me to stop giving you detentions every morning now? I’ll email the transportation office and get a bus set up for you. I’m sure there’s already one that runs through Auburn Hills. Also I think there’s an issue with you school information. I looked up your address to send a letter about the detentions to your parents and it’s in a completely different neighborhood. Are your parents divorced? Is your father’s address the one in the computer? They should both be in there but mistake happen-“
“My dad’s dead.”
“Oh, Regan,” His face softened up. That’s what everyone does. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” I snapped, swinging around before he could tell that I was crying.
By the time I finished I really just wanted to go curl up in bed, so I did and the damn spring was constantly poking me no matter which way I twisted and turned.
I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried, so instead I grabbed my history homework. At least I’d be able to impress Mr. H by actually completing something for once.
I don’t actually remember falling asleep that night, but I woke up with my history homework stuck to my face and I was fucking exhausted.
“Wake up, Regan!” Mr. Harrington shouted, kicking my desk as he passed by.
My head shot straight up and groggily I croaked, “What the fu-“
“Finish that word and it’s yet another detention.”
That’s right, I’d already gotten a second detention for being late again, and now I was possibly going to get my third.
“You do know that if you get three detentions in a row, you’ll earn yourself a suspension, right?”
That woke me up. Shit. I couldn’t get suspended. Being forced to stay home all day with mom and Anthony, I couldn’t handle that.
“Look, why don’t we continue this discussion after class, but for now please stay awake during the lesson I’ve worked so hard to prepare.”
I looked down at the piece of paper on my desk that I was supposed to be writing notes on. It had little wet spots from drool marks. I’m a classy bitch.
Pretending to be intensely immersed in the lesson, I occasionally looked up from the doodles I was drawing on the notes sheet.
Not too long after the bell rang and everyone start shuffling around, gathering their stuff. In the midst of the madness Mr. H waved me over to his desk.
“So, would you like me to stop giving you detentions every morning now? I’ll email the transportation office and get a bus set up for you. I’m sure there’s already one that runs through Auburn Hills. Also I think there’s an issue with you school information. I looked up your address to send a letter about the detentions to your parents and it’s in a completely different neighborhood. Are your parents divorced? Is your father’s address the one in the computer? They should both be in there but mistake happen-“
“My dad’s dead.”
“Oh, Regan,” His face softened up. That’s what everyone does. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” I snapped, swinging around before he could tell that I was crying.