What I Hate About You (#1 What I Hate About You)

Chapter 8

I return to class just as the bell rings for second period. I didn’t even get a chance to sit down. I can feel my classmates’ eyes on me, but I didn’t make any eye contact with them. Mrs Callea calls me over to her before I even get the chance to walk out of the classroom with the rest of the class. Lindsay bumps into me on purpose as she goes out, making me drop my book. I pick it up and then join my teacher at the front, preparing myself to being lectured by her, which I’m not in the mood to hear.

“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, Alex, but I don’t want you to know that I do not tolerate that kind of behaviour in my class,” she says.

“What behaviour? Shoving someone to get away from me?”

She gives me a warning look to not back-chat with her.

“Look, I’m sorry. Nathan just got me so mad so I pushed him so he could get the message that I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

“That’s still no excuse for what you did, Alex. You could have injured him or someone else. I’m also not the one you should be apologising to, Alex. The person who should be apologising to is Nathan.”

I feel sick in the stomach. I can’t apologise to him. Why should I apologise to him?

When I don’t answer, Mrs Callea continues. “Please do not act the way you did in my class again. Not just with Nathan or Lindsay, but with anyone in your class. I do not need you interrupting my class every time because you dislike something someone has done.” She picks up some papers from her desk, shuffling them into a neat pile. “Now, here is the work I want you to complete. I know you and your sister have some rivalries with each other, but I want you to get the notes off her. If she refuses, then tell her that I said she has to give you the notes she has written.”

I have to restrain to roll my eyes in front of my teacher. Did she really expect me to ask me to copy my work from Lindsay? She doesn’t even pay attention in class so I know it was very unlikely that she had taken any notes at all.

Mrs Callea dismisses me. I walk out of the classroom. I got a few metres down the corridor when someone joins me. I don’t have to look to see who it is. I know it’s Lindsay. She was probably standing nearby and eavesdropping on Mrs Callea and me. I don’t stop for her, so she walks in front of me to get my attention, walking backwards. I hope she crashes into something while she walks. It will teach her for walking backwards. I try to move on me, but she is too quick for me, blocking me from going anywhere.

“Get out of my way, Lindsay.”

“I can’t believe what you did to Nathan,” she says. “That is so selfish of you. How could you even think about doing something like that? You had no right to do it.”

“Lindsay, leave me alone. I’m not in the mood to explain anything. Anyway, don’t you have somewhere you need to be instead of bugging me?”

“You’re never in the mood. He didn’t deserve what you did. He was just being nice to me.” She stops talking. “Hey, are you crying?”

I wipe my eyes. “No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why would you care if I am?”

“Mr Matthews sent you to see Miss Giovanni, didn’t he? You always cry after seeing her.”

“Lindsay, do me a favour and shut the hell up.”

I push pass her and quickly take off down the corridor before my sister has the chance to catch up with me again. I hurry downstairs towards German. I look back to see if she is following me, and she isn’t. Good. I don’t feel like telling her anything. It’s none of her business to whether or not if I went to see Miss Giovanni. She will only laugh at me for going to see her.

I wipe my eyes as more tears decide to fall. I don’t want anyone to see the tears or they will stop and ask me if I’m alright. No one has ever seen me cry, and they do see me, they will automatically think that something is wrong with me.

“Guten Tag, Alex,” Mr Brown greets me as I walk towards his classroom.

I ignore him, pushing pass him and walking over to my usual seat in the back row beside the window. I open up my sketch book to start drawing, but close it when I see Mr Brown approaching me from the corner of my eye. I roll my eyes. What does he want now?

He stands in front of my desk. “Was ist los, Alex? Warum weinst du?”

I blink my eyes at him, trying to work out what he was saying. I hate it when he speaks in the foreign language all the time. Can he at least speak English for once? I don’t understand what he is saying one hundred per cent, but I’m pretty sure he was asking me if I was alright. God, just leave me alone!

“For once in your life could you speak English?” I spit rudely at my teacher. He’s making me irritated by speaking another language other than English. I’m really not in the mood to be studying German right now. Can fifty minutes pass already so I can get out of here?

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Mr Brown replies back in English so I can understand him this time. “But this is a German class, not English. We learn to speak German in here and that’s the only language we speak.”

“I do not care. You don’t need to speak it all the time. Not everyone is fluent in the language.”

 “Alex, what is wrong? Why are you crying?”

By now all eyes are on Mr Brown and me, as the class listens in on our conservation. I have this urge building up inside of me, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs, telling everyone to mind their own dam business, but I stop myself. I don’t want to be sent down to Mr Matthews’ office again.

He continues to speak when I don’t respond. “I’m here if you ever need help.”

“I’m fine, okay?”

“Alex –”                       

I roll my eyes. Can’t this guy get the message? “For crying out loud, I don’t want your help!” I almost scream it out. “If I really want help I will ask for it. It’s none of your damn business why I’m crying, so can you just leave me alone?”

Mr Brown stands there, stunned by my words. He finally gets the message that I wanted to be alone and walks to the front of the classroom to start the lesson, speaking German. Wiping the tears away from my eyes, I open my sketch book that I have in front of me, pulling out a pencil from my bag and began sketching, ignoring Mr Brown’s irritating German accent.

I feel someone’s eyes on me. I turn to my right and see Nathan staring at me. As soon as I lock my eyes with his, he turns and pretends to be listening to whatever Mr Brown is talking about. His friend Eric is sitting beside him. He whispers something to Nathan. I turn back to my work.