Quiet Mouse [Bryson Tiller]

1.5

This project was graded like a final.

"Is this legal?" I asked Gianna, turning around. "You know how Yvonne does shit." She stated, rolling her eyes.

Ms.Bristol and Gianna never really got along ever since Gianna accidentally spilled milk her. Gianna apologized, but Ms.Bristol wasn't having it. She told almost every teacher in the school a false story without coming to Gianna, which in my opinion, was something a messy teenager would do.

I turned around and faced Bryson, who was turned around writing in his infamous black notebook.

"What's that?" I asked curiously. "Nothing."

I frowned and sat up. "Okay...well what do want to do for this project?"

"I don't know." He answered plainly. I sighed, knowing this was going nowhere. I noticed other students with their laptops out. I pulled mine out of my backpack and opened it.

I saved up for this laptop for about a year. This was my baby.

I googled some ideas for the science project.

We had to research a famous person and write a paper about the psychological impact they may have on the people who looked up to him.

Some college level shit I was a little too excited about.

I typed 'influential people' in the search engine and waited for it to load.

Oprah Winfrey, Mark Zuckenburg, Bill Gates, and other similar people popped up.

I was more into doing an artist, so I added 'in music' at the end and pressed the search button.

I pressed a reliable looking website and read the short introduction paragraph, and the list that followed it.

Michael Jackson
Tupac

Pharrell
Chris Brown

Beyoncè
John Lennon
Kendrick Lamar
Stevie Wonder

Rihanna

Elvis Presley
Jay-Z
Diplo
Ne-Yo
J Cole

I pondered between Kendrick Lamar and Michael Jackson.

I looked up at Bryson, who was looking at me.
"Are you going to help or what?"

He sucked his teeth. "I don't even know what you doing. I got the person we doing."

I looked at his paper and didn't bother to read what he had on it. He didn't seem like the type to show mercy if we ever got into an argument, so I decided not to go against the person he wanted to do.

I wrote our name on the top of the rubric sheet and scanned over the instructions.

We had to make a tri-fold, slideshow, of write a paper with at least five pictures.

Before we could even start researching our paper, the bell rung.

"One more period. " I'm mumbled to myself, shoving the papers into my backpack.