Motive

Purple

~Mary Jay~

After eating, I made my way back into the building, throwing my trash out on the way. The hallways were crowded - per usual, but I managed to elbow my way through a few students.

I opted out of history class with the warden. I didn't wanna learn about a bunch of racist white men who were painted to be saints. Instead, I had to to AP english, which I hoped wasn't too prestigious.

I went to my dorm to grab a notebook for class, seeing as it was ELA and I'd have to write.

Not used to knocking on doors; especially not my own, I walked right in since the door was unlocked.

Oh no.

Feya was sat atop a guys lap, a guy I didn't know. They were fully clothed but making out. I quietly shut the door before either of them could notice.

What the balls, man.

I decided to just ask for an extra notebook when I got to class; there was no way I was about to interrupt that.

I still had around 4 minutes to get to class, so I walked rather slow. This first day was kicking my non-existent ass, and I was beyond ready to sleep.

When I finally got there, I chose to sit in the middle, where the window was. I pulled my hair back into my jacket before slouching down in my chair. I was way too tired to give much energy in this class.

"Good afternoon females and males. It's another day which means you survived 24 hours since the last time I saw you, congratulations. As a gift, you get another paper!"

I already didn't like this teacher. He wore glasses which hung low on his nose and looked like he was balding at the age of 26.

"Alright, my attendance says I have 19 students instead of 18, who's new here?"

I just stared at him until he saw me. "There you are! Tell us your name."

I replied normally, "Mary Jay."

"You should smile more, Mary Jay."

?

"With all due respect, the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just suggesting, you have a very nice facial structure, smiling would accentuate your cheekbones." He continued.

I deadpanned. "Thanks."

The teacher narrowed his eyes on me for a second before speaking again, "That right there is what's wrong with your generation. So quick to be a smart-alek."

I didn't respond, instead stared at him intensely, blinking a few times until he looked away, visibly uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat, "Mr. Hendrix. Moving on, today we will be starting a new paper. It will be a poem. You're assignment is to write a problem in the world you are passionate about. It can be about the events happening in our country, another country, worldwide, whatever you'd like. This is AP so I expect nothing less than an A. Today we'll begin our rough drafts."

World problems. I couldn't even count all of them on my hands and toes twice. I was passionate about a lot of things; racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, all of it. The world isn't all rainbows and sunshine as it was painted when we were kids.

"So it's biased?" A girl asked who sat near the front.

"Yes, but the point is to sway your readers with facts, not just opinions. You state an opinionated claim and back it up with facts and a counter-argument."

"Wouldn't that cause like, debates and stuff?" Another voice sounded from the near back.

"Perhaps, but you all fight like animals anyways."