Trent
Chapter 1
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf ?
She's a number one crook, never plays by the rules."
Time check: 15 minutes until the bell rings.
Everyone had their eyes glued to the projector screen. Apparently the AP Humanities kids were interested in ancient artifacts. Or at least, most of them were. Trent's fellow classmate, Fred, was behind him sleeping with his eyes opened. He always wondered how his best friend managed to do that. It's an ability that saved his butt countless times. No teacher would ever suspect that Fred was sleeping while they were babbling about things that, to be honest, won't contribute to their students' futures. That's what Trent thought.
Trent was stuck in a class he absolutely hated. Scratch that. Absolutely despised. His initial class was AP Music Theory, but a certain parental figure disapproved his choice and now basically he's spending his next few years in high school learning a subject that his father chose for him. Luckily, he's good at it. He's good at every subject that he takes. It's either a matter of luck or the fact that he's effortlessly smart. He had people commenting on his straight A's, but Trent rather not bring attention to it.
He looked at the time. 10 minutes. "Damn, what is taking so long?" Trent thought. He then paid attention to the projector screen, just to make sure that he would be prepared when Mr. Briggs asks any questions. But somehow, he just couldn't focus on the material. His hands and thoughts slowly moved to the notebook he was writing on before.
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?
She's a number one crook, never plays by the rules.
A sinner, a lover.
A walking contradiction..."
Just as he was brainstorming for things that rhymed with the word "lover", a deep, baritone voice called Trent's name repeatedly. He ignored it at first because he was really getting into the zone, but suddenly he could see a tall shadow getting bigger on his desk.
"Shit, put your notebook away !" Fred whispered from behind. Trent knew what was coming, so he immediately placed his Humanities textbook on top of his notebook. His teachers can mock him anytime, but he will not allow any school authority to get a hold of his notebook.
"Good afternoon Mr. Smith. I see that you're not busy today. It's not like there are more important things other than my class." Mr. Briggs sneered. Damn, Trent always hated that. It made him feel a bit disgusted, but hey, it's high school. It's pretty much acceptable. Trent could see his other friend a.k.a. his band mate, Rick, mouthing "You're screwed." and silently chuckling to himself behind Mr. Briggs. Trent just rolled his eyes.
"Ehem, Mr. Smith. You answer this question correctly, I let you off the hook. Get it wrong, say hello to detention later." He said. "The pottery in the photograph reflects the style of which civilization ?" Mr. Briggs asked, with his index finger pointing to the black and white photograph on the projector screen.
Trent smirked. Easy.
"Pre-Columbian Incan." Trent answered.
Mr. Briggs frowned in disappointment. "Correct." He admitted in defeat. Trent knew his Humanities teacher didn't like to lose, and to him losing to a student is the biggest humiliation a teacher could ever face. So Trent decided to take this opportunity to get even.
"You know Mr. Briggs, pottery manufacture was introduced about 1800 BCE and later periods show great competence in this field of applied art. All visual forms were common and, since the potter's wheel was unknown, were produced by hand or from moulds. Painted scenes of battles, the parading of nobles and the punishment of, well, naked prisoners were common and -"
"Nobody asked for your opinion." Mr. Briggs growled. People were laughing hysterically at the word "naked". Trent could not believe how immature his classmates were, but at least he put an end to the deafening silence. Their smiles made him realized that his study session the night before was worth it.
At that moment, the bell rang. Mr. Briggs heaved a sigh of relief and walked away from Trent's desk. Everyone was getting up with their bags and made their way outside of the room. Trent was putting his books into his backpacks when he felt a light punch on his arm. He looked up. It was Fred.
"Nice one dude. I'm treatin' you to pizza later. C'mon let's get out of here." Fred said.
Trent smiled. "Definitely."
She's a number one crook, never plays by the rules."
Time check: 15 minutes until the bell rings.
Everyone had their eyes glued to the projector screen. Apparently the AP Humanities kids were interested in ancient artifacts. Or at least, most of them were. Trent's fellow classmate, Fred, was behind him sleeping with his eyes opened. He always wondered how his best friend managed to do that. It's an ability that saved his butt countless times. No teacher would ever suspect that Fred was sleeping while they were babbling about things that, to be honest, won't contribute to their students' futures. That's what Trent thought.
Trent was stuck in a class he absolutely hated. Scratch that. Absolutely despised. His initial class was AP Music Theory, but a certain parental figure disapproved his choice and now basically he's spending his next few years in high school learning a subject that his father chose for him. Luckily, he's good at it. He's good at every subject that he takes. It's either a matter of luck or the fact that he's effortlessly smart. He had people commenting on his straight A's, but Trent rather not bring attention to it.
He looked at the time. 10 minutes. "Damn, what is taking so long?" Trent thought. He then paid attention to the projector screen, just to make sure that he would be prepared when Mr. Briggs asks any questions. But somehow, he just couldn't focus on the material. His hands and thoughts slowly moved to the notebook he was writing on before.
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?
She's a number one crook, never plays by the rules.
A sinner, a lover.
A walking contradiction..."
Just as he was brainstorming for things that rhymed with the word "lover", a deep, baritone voice called Trent's name repeatedly. He ignored it at first because he was really getting into the zone, but suddenly he could see a tall shadow getting bigger on his desk.
"Shit, put your notebook away !" Fred whispered from behind. Trent knew what was coming, so he immediately placed his Humanities textbook on top of his notebook. His teachers can mock him anytime, but he will not allow any school authority to get a hold of his notebook.
"Good afternoon Mr. Smith. I see that you're not busy today. It's not like there are more important things other than my class." Mr. Briggs sneered. Damn, Trent always hated that. It made him feel a bit disgusted, but hey, it's high school. It's pretty much acceptable. Trent could see his other friend a.k.a. his band mate, Rick, mouthing "You're screwed." and silently chuckling to himself behind Mr. Briggs. Trent just rolled his eyes.
"Ehem, Mr. Smith. You answer this question correctly, I let you off the hook. Get it wrong, say hello to detention later." He said. "The pottery in the photograph reflects the style of which civilization ?" Mr. Briggs asked, with his index finger pointing to the black and white photograph on the projector screen.
Trent smirked. Easy.
"Pre-Columbian Incan." Trent answered.
Mr. Briggs frowned in disappointment. "Correct." He admitted in defeat. Trent knew his Humanities teacher didn't like to lose, and to him losing to a student is the biggest humiliation a teacher could ever face. So Trent decided to take this opportunity to get even.
"You know Mr. Briggs, pottery manufacture was introduced about 1800 BCE and later periods show great competence in this field of applied art. All visual forms were common and, since the potter's wheel was unknown, were produced by hand or from moulds. Painted scenes of battles, the parading of nobles and the punishment of, well, naked prisoners were common and -"
"Nobody asked for your opinion." Mr. Briggs growled. People were laughing hysterically at the word "naked". Trent could not believe how immature his classmates were, but at least he put an end to the deafening silence. Their smiles made him realized that his study session the night before was worth it.
At that moment, the bell rang. Mr. Briggs heaved a sigh of relief and walked away from Trent's desk. Everyone was getting up with their bags and made their way outside of the room. Trent was putting his books into his backpacks when he felt a light punch on his arm. He looked up. It was Fred.
"Nice one dude. I'm treatin' you to pizza later. C'mon let's get out of here." Fred said.
Trent smiled. "Definitely."