Actions Have Consequences

Chapter 10

My eyes glared at the sheets of paper that sat on the desk before me. Sheets and sheets of formulas and equations - something my mind wasn't adjusted to doing; something I'd pay nerdy kids to do for me; something I never thought I would have to do again after ninth grade - apparently not.

"(-6x) (-2x+ (-3))" the question screamed out at me. It was the first question and I always knew the first few questions were always the easiest, but in this case they were all hard, no matter which order they came in.

It was my first class ever at this school and I already hated it with a passion. Lunch had been a disaster and to make it worse, I had Math now, and then Geography. After that came French which I had no experience with whatsoever. And then lastly, Sport.

Fun packed day for me - not.

I began tapping the desk with my pencil. The Math here was way too hard! Stupid teachers giving me work that they probably knew I couldn't do. Would it be wrong in asking a teacher if they found sick pleasure in torturing you? I was in the lowest group for Math back in California and all these English freaks expected me to be a top student? As if!

And to top it all off, I had some small, brunette haired girl watching over my shoulder. When I'd told her to stop cheating off me, she'd claimed she'd been assigned to help me. Yeah, right.

I threw the pencil down onto the desk and threw my body against the back of the chair in exasperation. Seriously, since when did letters become a part of Math? It's stupid. Math is numbers and sums, not learning the alphabet.

Mr. Findlay, my Math teacher, noticed me sitting with my arms folded and made his way over. He smiled genuinely. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, yes there is," I moaned.

He crouched down so that he was at my level. "What might that problem be?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but the girl who'd been watching me spoke first. "She can't be bothered to try," she sighed.

Mr. Findlay clucked his tongue. "Well, we'll have to fix that." He stood up and gathered my books. "Come with me," he said.

I pushed myself away from the table and slouched along behind Mr. Findlay. We ended up at the front of the class, where a small desk sat on it's own in the corner. He dropped my books onto it and pulled out the chair. "This is a very special desk, only those who misbehave or do not try get to sit here. This way, you're nice and near to my desk, so I can keep a close watch on you," he smiled crookedly.

I pulled a face. "I'm not sitting there."

Mr. Findlay stopped walking back to his desk and turned around. "Why ever not?"

"There's gum on the seat!" I moaned.

"Goodness sake," he muttered. "Do you want to know where all the nice seats are?" he asked, mimicking a ten-year-old.

I pushed the chair with gum on it back under the desk. "Yeah, where are all the nice seats?"

"In detention," he smiled and handed me a yellow slip. "You can go get a gum-free chair there."

"I will," I smiled sarcastically. Whilst I collected my books, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Mr. Findlay called.

A tall girl with curly blonde hair tied up in a pony-tail walked in. "Ah, Mr. Findlay," she said. "Could I borrow Miss. Summers?"

"Oooh," the class chorused.

Mr. Findlay glanced at me. "Yes, sure you can. She was just on her way out anyway."

The girl nodded and smiled at me. "Come along," she said.