Ton Amour Est Ma Musique (Student/Teacher Frerard Fic)

***I'm gonna try a footnote-y thing bc I read a book with footnotes and it was pretty cool and i like the idea so yeah....I'm gonna try it (I'll put the previous sentence next to the note so you don't have to keep scrolling back and forth) enjoy***

Third bell of the day drowns out the sleep-inducing lecture by Ms. Rox, my first period Civics teacher, followed by the clunking of metal chair legs being dragged around on the filthy, teal floor, clanging against the legs of desks. My darling classmates bushel towards the exit while Ms. Rox hollers about our community service being due in two weeks. You would think that a teacher with a title like Ms .Rox would follow up on the level of coolness that the name carries, right? She'd be some laid back teacher that lets you drink coffee at 7:20 in the morning to get you motivated for the day or lets you listen to music whenever you were doing your work, right? Sorry to say it, but you're wrong. Ms. Danielle Rox, late 50's-early 60's, average height for a woman of her age with a bit of a stomach growing. Tired expression 24/7, well, at least when I see her, and a balding head (1). Her face resembles a semi-wrinkly, fair skinned tomato if anything, that always carries a dead look in her eyes like she's always burdened by something, yet she's too weak to try to fight it. She's an alumni of the school and probably just fell in love with it so she went into teaching; 20+ years according to what she's told us, and honestly, if you looked close enough, you could see the hatred and disgust grow with each new class she had. Generation after generation of rude, disrespectful children who don't know the first thing about maturity. In a way I feel bad for her because the jerks that share this period with me are probably just like the kids that used to make fun of her 'goody-two-shoesness', teacher's pet, and overly school spirited attitude (2). It's pretty easy to tell that she was the one running for Student Body President (3) and constantly going all out for spirit week; she does the same things now. She always follows every rule, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it can just get a tad bit annoying. The chubby cheeks show she was probably once a very bright and bubbly gal who smiled all the time, but time just happened to wear her down; what a shame.

I made it out of the class last, focusing on unraveling my earbuds from around my iPod then dove straight for the other side of the hall, dodging a few girls who were carelessly chatting. Strolling along in the middle is deadly, that's where all of the idiots go crashing into each other, however, it was only 8:50 in the morning so it might be a bit safer as of now. I gazed at the dimmed screen (4), flipping through the first few songs and admiring my rad taste in music until I almost bumped into a locker door opening right in front of my face. The one opening the locker looked at me as if I were an idiot while his two buddies just chuckled to themselves, hands cupped over their mouths. I switched my iPod off, landing on Scattered by Green Day, glared at the three then continued walking.

Eighteen steps down the hall, twelve steps down the stairs, five on the platform, four more stairs (5), pass the short blonde boy with glasses (6) and dodge the oncoming freshmen. Our glorious school, Belleville High, home of the cougars, is divided into two major sections; freshmen and sophomore on one side, juniors and seniors on the other. In the middle of the school, dividing the two sides, are the fine arts hall and library. On the furthest part south is the cafeteria and directly parallel to that, on the north end of the school is the gym. Art and computer classes are all on my side while the languages and everything else (7) belong to the upperclassmen. Fairly simple layout I guess (8), they keep you secluded in your nice little zone (9) with all of your idiotic peers for four years and then you're all thrown out into the next ring, getting closer to being devoured in the real world.

I walk down the hill in the music hall, passing the short Mexican kid with the dark hair and glasses, cautiously checking to see if he's making eye contact with me or not. I occasionally see him in the morning, dropping off his guitar and then he disappears to a completely different world, a world I'll never know....(10). He passes, keeping his shoulders broad and face forward and I strode up the other hill into my class.