The Bad Boy is a King

Day 27.

First period for everyone was tiring and boring. It was seven in the morning and there was a full school day ahead, so what could be so fun? I was never one to enjoy school, but I always wondered who actually likes school. Twenty minutes into first period, it already seemed extra tiring and extra boring.

Mr. Wilson clicked to the next slide as we copied down the notes. I quickly tried to copy each sentence before he switched the slide, ranting something about punnet squares.

Mr. Wilson is one of those teachers who talks too much and never gives students enough time to write down the entire slide. Then, he will exaggerate about how slow we are and how we cannot copy word for word. But, it is kind of hard not to copy word for word when he does not even give us enough time to read the slide.

River mumbled something next time me that sounded like a "I don't give a fuck about this class or about Mr. Wilson's baldness."

See, our desks are made for two people to sit at like every other classroom. Like they are a small, square table with two seats sitting next to each other. Mr. Wilson always makes it so whatever we do, we always have to be with our table person. So, accordingly, we spend a lot of time with our table person so it is best if you get along with them or it was going to be a long year.

I laughed quietly.

"He always tries to bring up his baldness into everything we are talking about."

"Yeah, this class is a drag," River whispered, drawing on his notebook.

"Wanna play tic-tac-toe?" I asked since Mr. Wilson was going on about his baldness and was done with the slideshow.

"Sure." River started to draw it on an empty piece of his notebook paper.

And that's how we spent the rest of first period, ignoring Mr. Wilson's rambling of his baldness until the loud speakers came on.

"Nicholas Samuels, please report to the principal's office."

After Nicholas was called to the principal's office, there was shuffling around until a guy's voice came on and it was a familiar guy's voice. "And, Annabelle Parish please report to the principal's office to pick up the condoms you left in the bathroom. You might not want to write your name on the condom box anymore but what kind of freak does that anyway?"

I heard chuckling on the other side before the principal's loud voice telling Thomas not to say such profanities over the mic. After that, the mic was cut off and the shrieking noise blasted through the classroom.

I stormed out of the classroom before Mr. Wilson even wrote me a pass. I heard the laughter from the classroom as I left, charging to the principal's office.

When I arrived, Thomas was still there, laughing his head off.

He bursted out laughing again and with how much he was laughing, I did not think was possible. "You-you should see-see your face," he said in between laughs.

"Funny because I'm not laughing."

"I'm just laughing with you," he replied and held his chest.

I glared at him and said with a fake smile. "So, where are my condoms that we used, Thomas? I know how you can't find any condoms small enough to fit yours."

"He is not small, love. Would you like to see?" He replied with a smirk.

"What? You mean your fake one?"

"Ouch, love. That hurts that you are denying yourself the simple pleasures in life. But, who am I to judge? Not everyone has the opportunity to see this bad boy."