Once Upon A Dime (hiatus)

14. Shopping and Showdowns

"So. I g-guess you've heard."

"Yeah. I'm not excited."

"T-t-tell me ab-bout it-t."

I pause my working hand to look up at Tanner, weary boredom plastered onto his drooping, tired face. I've never really paid attention in math class before, but we just switched seats, so I'm fortunate enough to sit next to Tanner. Thank God. I previously sat next to Stinky Susan. Okay, I know it's not a nice nickname, but please! Cut me some slack! Besides smelling like the dumpster behind the iHop, she always copies my answers, and then when she gets them wrong, she blames me! I mean, what type of person does that?

"You could always pretend to be sick, or somin'. I'm forced to go, having a uterus and all." I scowl at the white board in front of us, copying down the problem with my tired and aching muscles.

"I'm s-sure Paige and Arabella will let you c-c-come with me to Gamestop, if-f-f you want." He teases, tilting his chair backwards a little so that it's bucking on it's rear legs.

"Funny. Like that'll happen. They're ruthless when it comes to shopping." I roll my eyes at his faked attempt at hope, and resume to sketching on the rims of my notebook.

"W-well, you still have t-t-two hours. M-maybe you can flee to N-n-Nicaragua. I h-hear they have immigrants ev-ev-everyday." He says, fashioning a proud and poised smile atop his whitened teeth.

My playful grin wilts, and an enflamed red takes over my being. I force myself to calm my cramping muscles, and focus back on my drawings, my eyes becoming wet with tears of frustration. Tanner seems to take notice of my state, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

Damn, Tanner! I know you didn't know, but seriously! American people are so... eh. I have nothing against them, really; but... They just don't know anything about outside problems. It's like they live in their own little bubble; not letting anyone in and not caring about other social societies.

The tip of my pencil breaks, making a dark gash just above the left eyebrow of the face I was drawing. It rips through another few sheets of my paper, and I grumble silently to myself.

Who was I drawing?

I dust off any stray graphite from the page, and peer intently down at my notebook.

It's lopsided and sketchy, but nonetheless, anyone would be able to tell it's nobody except the notorious Kendall Brush. Damn my fingers! Damn my brain!

...

I'm cursing.

Just like he does.

"D....Do you w-want me to sharpen th-th-that?" Tanner squeaks, his face blooming a deep rouge.

"That'd be great. Thanks." I whisper, offering him a sad smile of reassurance. He takes it as genuine, his face lighting up with happiness, and he accepts the pencil from my hands.

"Uh... Jennifer. Could you read problem number nineteen for the class?" Ms. McClettí chirps from the front of the class, her cleavage practically spilling out her shirt. For being a teacher, you'd think she'd have more respect than that. Now, I've nothing against her! Really, I don't. It's just... It seems she's seeking people's attention; having straight blonde hair, perfected red nails, and a made up face for every consecutive day of the year.

"Um-m... Sure!" I scan over my textbook, and realize I'm not even on the right page. A nervous laughter escapes my lips, and the entire class turns to gape at me with mortified expressions dawning on their faces. I find the nineteenth one, and practically jump for joy out of my seat.