Gerard;
Mr. Quinn, I swear, could go on for the rest of his life about Napoleon Bonaparte. How do I know this? Because that's exactly what he's doing right now. I tuned out twenty minutes ago when he was talking about how Napoleon crowned himself as emperor of France. As he talks, he moves his hands around, gesturing to students, up, down, to the board, everything. It's mildly entertaining, but I really give zero shits at the moment.
I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just not in the mood for history. I really want to write in my journal, but I won't. Last time I tried I got yelled at, and trust me, that was not pleasant.
Mr. Quinn's big, blue eyes look around at every student as his mouth powers through each word with the speed of a cheetah. The way he's talking, Napoleon is just the greatest. And by greatest, I mean not really because he caused thousands upon thousands of deaths. But, you know, history wise, he's pretty great.
"When Napoloean was finally defeated I'm Waterloo, instead of getting executed he was exiled to the island, St. Helena."
Someone in the front raised their hand straight up, which bothers me. Let him finish. I just really, really cannot stand it when people just interrupt the teacher with their petty questions. "Why wasn't he killed?"
"I was getting to that. But, he wasn't killed because the French loved him so much that the other countries didn't know how they would react to getting their ruler killed. For all they knew, France would start an all out war as a reaction to Napoleon dying. So, he was exiled until he eventually died there."
In this moment, I think that there might be a God because the bell rings, interrupting him from his hour long speech about Napoleon. Don't get me wrong, Napoleon is pretty interesting and he was a pretty awful person, which makes him kind of awesome in History class, but it's über boring when the teacher goes on and on, barely letting anyone say a word.
I quickly get out of my chair and leave for Lifetime Activities.
Today, as far as I've heard, we are doing absolutely nothing, which is great. I can spend this class talking to Frank. Maybe this time I could ask him if he wants to hang out sometime. Maybe this time he'd say yes. I don't know what's even gotten into me. I've never been this persistent with someone. Usually it's like I try for a little bit and if they obviously don't want my friendship, I give up.
I walk into the gym with a bit of pep in my step. It'd be an understatement to say that I'm excited, I'm thrilled, my blood is pumping. I'm proud to say that I'm not really afraid to initiate conversation with Frank anymore. Ever since we hung out, or whatever, that day, I feel as if I can consider him a friend.
I guess he doesn't mind that label either because when I walk in and approach his sitting form, he looks up and stretches his lips into a perfect smile. "Hi."
"Hey there," I greet him, sitting beside him and setting my bag on the other side of me.
"How's Hell been for you?" He asks, closing a book he had been reading.
"Hell? It'd be a lie to say hot, good, and bad. So, I'm going to say it's been okay. History though. That was aggravating. He wouldn't stop talking a-"
"About Napoleon, I know," he finishes for me.
"You have Mr. Quinn, too?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "What hour?"
"Fourth. What about you?"
"Just before this one," I reply. "Anyways... Would you like to hang out again? I'm free after school, or any time really.."
"Um, well, I guess. I don't think I'd mind that," he replies, smiling a little on one side of his mouth.
"Well, I ride the bus, but my bus driver is kinda chill, so he doesn't mind that you wouldn't have a bus note," I explain. "Just make sure your mom, dad, both, whoever know that you aren't coming home after school. I mean, if you want to." I seriously need to learn when to shut up. Frank probably thinks I'm an idiot who never closes his mouth.
