piece #984 | FIFTH GRADE
Bennett sits beside me again. I suppose the teacher doesn't know about our paper planes.
He hands me some Hubba Bubba gum: the big, fat, juicy ones. I grin and chew it quietly, hoping that no one would notice me break the rules again like earlier this year in Math.
I popped some Juicy Fruit gum in my mouth, savoring the delicious watermelon flavor melting on my tongue. Bennett's small smile turned into a giant grin of rainbows and butterflies when he saw his assigned seat: right next to mine. I internally groaned.
While Mrs. Christian--whose last name does not fit her she-devil self at all--was teaching us complicated multiplication and division, I blew a bubble.
A bubble larger than I had wished.
It popped, louder than a balloon when pricked by the point of a needle, and its sticky substance got all over my face. Bennett stifled a laugh. Julie, the raven-haired brat sitting next to me, giggled and covered her mouth with her tiny hand. I blushed furiously and tried, but failed, to rub off the gum. Unfortunately for me, Mrs. Christian heard the pop of the gum and narrowed her sinister eyes at me.
"Didn't you know gum is forbidden in classrooms, especially during lectures?" She raised her voice, which was already pretty loud in the first place. I saw saliva freely fly out of her mouth as she spat words at me like a machine gun. Even though she was only in her late fifties, I think she already owned dentures.
"Y-yes, ma'am. I-I forgot to take out the piece of gum my mother gave me, and I didn't mean to blow a bubble... And it got bigger than I wished..." I rambled my half-lie half-truth, hoping she would let the issue slide. Of course, she didn't.
"Detention! After school! One hour long. I expect you to be there, Ms. Hart." I nodded, mentally adding Mrs. Christian to my 'Hate List.'
1. Mrs. Christian
2. Bennett Layne
3. Mr. Wu (our Chinese-American neighbor, he doesn't like kids very much- or anyone, really.)
I felt a piece of paper poking my hands that were nesting in my lap. I slowly grabbed the paper and quickly flashed my eyes to the sloppy wording on the page.
Go to the 5th-grade dance with me? ;)
I was repulsed, and shocked, by his note. I wrote back,
No! Why of all people would I go with you?
Because I'm your only friend who's a guy..? Scratch that, I'm your only friend.
Those words felt like a punch to the gut. No one liked me, I was like a wallflower. Everyone seemed so intimidated by me, I couldn't understand why. I fought back the tears threatening to spill out.
I have friends! Like
I paused for a moment, thinking of girls at my school that has actually said a single word to me all year.
Vanessa! She's kinda shy, so we're not as close friends as I hope.
I was in the process of becoming friends with her, but I was shyer than she was. Actually, she was the complete opposite than shy.
Why won't you go to the dance with me? :(
I'm not going, anyways. So quit bugging me. >:(
I didn't get a note back. Oh, well.
