It All Started In A McDonald's...

who doesn't love maths?

"Just fucking die," I said, just as the maths class went silent.

Damn, I thought. As usual, every eye in the class was trained on me. I didn't need to look up to know that.

"Did you have a comment to make, Ms Adams?" asked Mr Evans, fake sweetly, in the tone of voice that meant I was moments away from being given a detention. Again.

I raised my gaze from my maths book slowly to let my pale green eyes meet my teacher's yellow ones. I wasn't backing down easily, not against this teacher. I hated everything about this teacher - from his subject to his voice to the unnerving, unnatural colour of his eye contacts to the way he called students by their surname like we were from some archaic boarding school back in the 90s or something. (Hey, that was a long time ago for me.)

"No sir," I said, keeping eye contact. I leant back in my chair with my arms crossed and simply didn't say anything else, just stared into those unnatural eyeballs and tried to look as innocent and un-rebellious as possible.

For a second, I thought it was working. Then, as normal, Mr Evans had to make things worse.

"I believe that is the third time I have caught you swearing in my classes this week," he said, not shifting his facial expression at all, and carrying on in that annoying "nice" voice. "And as that last comment was directed at someone, and I suspect me, judging by your obvious disapproval whilst I was speaking earlier, consider yourself in a ten minute detention tonight after school."

I nearly betrayed my emotion by making a sound of outrage and dropping my jaw, but I just refrained myself from doing so.

So much of that was unfair! I was not, for one, aiming that insult at sir (as much as I would love to). I was scribbling at my maths worksheet angrily and speaking to the questions. Because those should fucking die.

And, yeah, I knew I wasn't innocent when it came to swearing in class. It was only Tuesday, and I'd definitely swore more than three times. But a ten minute detention for that? Seriously? Swear words were only words. It's not like they were illegal.

Well, someone tell Mr Evans that.

All I said was, "Yes, sir," like a good little student.

The second sir had turned back to the whiteboard, the guy in front of me turned around and put his middle finger up at me.

I felt my face going red. Not with embarrassment, with anger.

The guy turned back around again and I whispered to MJ, "Hey, you have anything I can throw at Flash's head?"

"Not sure if a glue stick would be painful enough," MJ shrugged. She pulled out her rucksack from under the table and started ruffling around in it anyway. "Would a pink plastic hairbrush work?"

"Might be too obvious," I said, resting my chin on my hand and squishing my face against it. "And I can't believe I'm in detention. Again."

"While you're in there, take the opportunity to beat sir up, OK?" MJ requested, and I even gave a little smile for that. MJ put her bag under the table again and copied my pose. "You'll get to watch the Captain America videos I guess."

I rolled my eyes. "For only the fifty-sixth time. Shouldn't Cap be out rounding up street criminals and stopping alien invasions rather than making videos for high school kids?"

MJ shrugged. "I guess superheroes have to do a lot of stuff we don't necessarily think they have to do," she suggested. A wistful look came over her face, one very rarely ever seen. "Imagine actually being an Avenger though. How awesome would that be?"