The bible slammed onto the blue, carpeted ground and it's cover flopped over, revealing a page from Genesis II.
"Jesus Christ!" I cursed. This was probably not the best thing to say in an RE lesson. Mr Davison, or Mr Elf-Man, as we liked to call him because he wore bright green corduroys and usually, a vibrant, orange jumper; looked at me like I had just cursed using the "n" word at a black person.
"Kyle, what is the third of the Ten Commandments?" I sighed. He always did that. Whenever someone messed up, he somehow relates it to religion. He's like a Middle Ages guy he's so religious. I reluctantly pretended to care about the situation. But if he wasn't demanding respect he only deserves because he didn't allow kids to call him by his first name, I would have said something like: "Don't shit in public places."
But, as it was, I said:
"Do not use God's name for evil purposes,"
He tilted his head downwards and raised his eyebrows, so he looked like he was trying to give out a warning with his face.
"Then obey it then, please,"
I didn't even reply. I just picked up the purple, open book and, with great care, dumped it on my desk. I sat, flicked to the correct page and did my best to look like I was reading, but I was actually reading something else. Amy. I was reading, or trying to read, Amy. People read words. I read anything. I can read her beautiful best though. I can read it. I just can't understand it. It's like when you read another language. Like, anyone can physically read "Cayendo una biblia y gritando jesucristo" but I bet less people know what it means. It's Spanish for "dropping a bible and yelling Jesus christ". So, with her, it's like that. I couldn't stop looking at her until I knew what went on in her opulent mind.
