Laurel Love was at a standstill in her life. It was like she was stuck doing things that didn't matter. Nothing had meaning in her life anymore. Laurel wanted her luck to change. What she didn't know was that something was going to change her life i...
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"Laurel Love."
Lazily raising my hand, I say, "Here." The sub for my math class searches through the faces of my classmates and finally lands on me. She must be new here because I don't recognize her, and I know almost every sub that has ever worked at Swellview High School. Faces are my thing, I guess. I can recognize anyone by looking at them once (at least, as far as I could tell). She nods once before glancing back down at the sheet of paper clipped on the clipboard in her hands.
The substitute teacher continues on through the rest of my classmates, calling out each of their names and butchering most of the more exotic ones. The people around me are chatting amongst themselves, but I don't pay any attention to them. Instead, I'm secretly scrolling through my phone that's hiding underneath my desk, looking at all of the photos from the latest museum outing Gil and I went to last week. The curator at the Museum of Awesome Things From Awesome Movies specifically told us to put a filter on the photos before we post them on Envygram, which is what I'm currently doing.
My mind wanders as my fingers do their job, tapping away at the screen of my phone. I have another job lined up with Erika in a few days at the Swellview Museum of Jewels and Stools, and to be honest, I'm not excited to cover this museum. Lately, I've been dreading museums and documenting their exhibits on social media sites. When my friends and I made the decision to make our dreams a reality a year ago, I didn't think it would drain me this much.
I don't know what's going on with me lately. I used to love to go to the different museums around Swellview, showcasing the amazing exhibits that they put on for the different seasons of the year. Erika and Gil, her boyfriend, along with me, run a social media account dedicated to the museums here in Swellview, and recently, we've been getting paid for exposing the exhibits to the public. It's fun, sure, but for some reason, I'm tired of it.
The substitute teacher claps her hands, shaking me out of my thoughts. I glance up to see her standing at the front of the classroom and staring at all of us. She says, "Okay, guys, your teacher told me that you all have a packet of homework that you're supposed to be working on for the day." She looks over at the door before loudly whispering, "Though, I don't really care what you guys do as long as you aren't loud and obnoxious."
"Sounds good," Henry Hart says from right beside me, drawing out the 'o' in the word good. I look over at him, taking in his relaxed form -- the way his legs are stretched out underneath the desk in front of him and the way he's slouching in his chair -- and the bright grin on his face. He doesn't even have any of his math work out; instead, his backpack is chilling on his desk, zipped up. I frown at him, but I can't really say anything because my work isn't out, either.
Our other classmates murmur in agreement, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the sub move to the teacher's desk, taking a seat. However, my gaze remains on Henry as he digs through his backpack. He pulls out his phone and a Rubik's cube, setting the cube down on the desk. He pointedly looks at his phone for a second, and then he lets out a sigh. I have never seen such a look of despair on someone's face like the one he has on right now.
