He Who Weaves Nightmares | PUBLISHED (Available in Print and eBook Format)

Chapter 8 - Big Plate

Chapter 8 – Big Plate

Dreamer

I had so much work piled up. I didn't get to focus on school last week and I had to finish several projects while reviewing for this week's assessments.

I couldn't concentrate at home because I couldn't stop myself from tidying up the mess my sisters made. I loved my sisters, but those girls could compete with a tornado when they passed from one room to another.

Mom told me I was worse.

Anyway, I rushed to the café after completing my morning chores and after Mom had taken the kids to school and the day care. I still had an hour before the first bell rang.

Time to cram.

I was expecting it, but I was still surprised when I felt Francis pull a chair in front of me. His tray was filled with coffee and pancakes. I was sure it wasn't advisable for a kid to drink so much caffeine.

Although I did.

I smiled at Francis and gave him a nod so he'd take a seat. I returned to my notes and looked up after two minutes to see that Francis had already finished his pancakes and coffee. He wiped the syrup from his mouth then took out his workbook. I was glad to see the kid. He was cute and he gobbled food quicker than I did.

"Busy week last week?" Francis mouthed.

I removed my earphones. I hadn't planned to be away for a week. My mother had an impromptu trip and I was left to take care of my younger sisters.

"I guess you could say that," I answered.

"You're not wearing your glasses," Francis commented.

I smiled. Most people didn't notice. I thought my eyes were so huge, I seemed to be wearing glasses even when I wasn't.

"I only wear them when I'm in front of a computer. More like a filter against the glare. I'd like to think I still have perfect vision," I replied, grinning.

"Cool," Francis replied. "Time to cram and finish this assignment."

Francis and I worked in amicable silence for the next half hour. I was just wrapping up when I noticed that Francis had barely written anything on his paper. There were a few digits and several erasures.

"Do you have Mrs. Lang for Calculus?" I asked.

"Yes, that sea-witch who finds more joy in terrorizing the students than she does imparting tangible knowledge," Francis bemoaned.

"Sea -witch?" I tried not to laugh.

"Doesn't she remind you of the villain in The Little Mermaid?"

I couldn't contain my laugh this time. "Yes! We used to call her Ursula."

"I'm afraid Ursula might drown me if I fail her subject. Exponents and square roots! How are these relevant? Why can't we use calculators?" Francis lamented.

"It will get even more interesting once you tackle parabolas and logarithms," I promised. "Our teacher's barely in the classroom. He gives us problems to solve, leaves the room, tells us the correct answer the following day then schedules a test the day after with the same problems, just different values."

"I wish Mrs. Lang were like that," Francis grumbled.

"Well, he's not exactly teaching anyone," I replied.

"Help?" Francis asked.

I obliged. Francis moved to sit next to me and we tackled the lesson. Francis was a quick learner. Mrs. Lang was just a terrible teacher. The kid was surprised how simple everything was. He didn't realize the lesson was so easy.