Hall & Oates [NaNoWriMo Fail]

Method of Modern Love

prompt 4: in which a character teaches the skill

Oates

I was 17 years old and I still hadn't found an effective way of studying, but for some reason teachers kept giving me tests. And much to my dismay, I kept failing those stupid little tests. To make things worse, tests were always some obnoxious portion of the grade, so I could participate my face off and only bring my F up to a D (a D+ if I was lucky).

The school library had become my place to study as it was the only place that was actually quiet and free from distraction. I had the pretentious reading material on one side and the study guide on the other and I was going to study the shit out of the damn thing, because I was smarter than the average bear.

"The main character of the novel," I whispered to myself. The book was about some kids at a boarding school that went to a swimming hole or something like that. Then they hated each other and one broke his arm or something and died...

I didn't read the book.

"Jeff," I said. "His name was-Gene? What the hell?" I looked up and Mrs. Carter, the head librarian, was staring at me from her desk. I shot her a pained smile and took a deep breath, moving on to the next question. "His friends' name must've been Jeff." It wasn't. It was Phineas.

I let out a loud grunt and slammed my hands on the table in frustration, "Dammit."

"Hey!" A girl a few tables away was leaning toward me, a pencil in her hand. "Shut. The hell. Up."

I felt my eyes double in size and at that moment, everything that I'd pretended to learn in anger management went right out of the window. "Are you talking to me? Because I have a few ideas of what you could do with that pencil."

She closed her book and folded her hands, smiling with faux politeness. "This is a library, which means you should be quiet and considerate of the people around you. In other words, for the sake of everything that may or may not be holy, be quiet."

"I was virtually a fly on the wall before you decided to stick your long ass nose into my activities. So shut up and please, don't make me flip a table."

"Flip a table? Someone skipped anger management this week."

"I did actually, but it doesn't really help me at all. Not when there are idiots in the world."

"I'm not the one that can't remember Gene and Phineas and Leper and Brinker from that fucking elementary book you're trying to read without reading. You're one of those people that want everything, but you don't want to do any work. I really don't have a problem with that, but the least you could do-during your attempt to gain the world from the comfort of your pit of self importance-is shut the hell up."

"Enough!" Mrs. Carter had come to the table where the girl and I were leaning toward each other. I carefully unlatched my hands from the table as I was two seconds from throwing it at the nearest window. "Leave, both of you. You can come back when you learn to follow your own advice."

The girl smirked, "Are you implying that we should shut the hell up?"

"Get out."

I shoved my things into my bookbag, all the while counting to the number ten in my head. It was one of those things that Phil Collins had taught me, and it didn't really work but I always tried it anyway (just so I could say that I did). I pushed open the door and began stomping down the hallway, wondering where else I could go for some peace and quiet (a place that wouldn't have bratty idiots leeching everywhere).